"You really are an idiot," Mark muttered for the hundredth time, and Quinn sighed. He had said it so many times that she wasn't even sure who he was talking about anymore, and it was starting to bug her.

She shifted on her bed in the infirmary and Mr. McCoy rested a hand on her shoulder. "You haveto sit still," he told her. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Yeah yeah," she grumbled. He had stiched up the jagged punctures near the tops of her wings and was currently finished resetting the last couple bones. They only reason Quinn knew that was because he had told her; she had been on a morphine drip since she had gotten administered.

The rest of her team was down there too, but Kitchie was mostly there for support and friendliness. Mark was on the bed to Quinn's left and Caim was next to him. Kitchie sat on a stool at the foot of Mark's bed so that he could 'be near all this friends'.

Ms. Dugan came over to stand between Mark's and Quinn's bed, but facing Mark. She gently touched the large bump on the back of his head and he winced slightly. She laughed quietly and looked over at Kitchie. "Nice job, I didn't think you had it in you."

Kitchie blushed and looked away, a small smile on his face, while Quinn laughed.

"You don't have a concussion," Ms. Dugan explained. "but you'll have one hell of a headache."

Mark nodded and Ms. Dugan gave him one more look over before moving over to Caim, who was sitting up on his bed, his fingers tapping on the sheets.

"Quinn?" Mark asked.

She looked over.

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what? Throw Caim in a black hole-"

"No. Save me."

Quinn blinked and frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Why did you save me?"

"From those tiles or-"

"You mean you did it more than once!"

Quinn was taken aback at his outburst and she glanced at Kitchie, who looked equally confused.

"Answer me Quinn."

She looked back to her friend, wondering if Kitchie's hit had scrambled something in his brain. "You want to know why I helped you?" she clarified. She started to stand but Mr. McCoy held her down. "Why do you think?" she asked.

"Because you're an idiot. You shouldn't be risking yourself for-"

"I shouldn't be risking myself for what!" Mark was starting to piss her off even more now, not valuing his life and going on like she had no business helping him.

"-for someone that should have been dead a while ago. I should have been killed when my father pulled his gun on me; I should have been dead that time that truck almost ran me over! But no. You saved me-"

"Yes. I did. Why are you freaking out so much?"

"Because you shouldn't have!"

Quinn groaned and ran her hands through her hair, tugging on it as she did. "Did you give him something?" she asked Mr. McCoy quietly. He shook his head. "No, but perhaps I should." He patted Quinn's shoulder and took out her IV as he stepped around her bed. "Mark," he said. "I know that your head must be hurting but there is no need for you to be yelling and saying such things."

"I'm not in pain Mr. McCoy," Mark said.

"Then why are you-"

"I just want to know why she saved me."

"Because you're my friend!" Quinn screamed. A longer explanation threatened to burst from her lips but she held it back with a quiet snarl. "For fuck's sake, why don't you get it!"

"Because your life is worth more than mine-"

"SHUT UP!"

Everyone looked over at Caim, who was glaring at Mark. "Shut up," he repeated. "Don't say stuff like that." Quinn wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Ms. Dugan smile as Caim stood.

Kitchie nodded. "Really Mark, don't say stuff like that. You can't think that way you really can't. It's not good. Everyone loves you and you're a great guy and you shouldn't undervalue yourself so much. We'd all hate if you weren't here. Don't talk like that, please."

While Kitchie was going for the soft approach, Caim was using a more intimidating method. He stalked over and towered over Mark, his hands in fists at his sides. "Don't act like that," he told the other dark haired boy firmly. "You can't think about yourself that way or crap comes to you bringing your talk into your life. If you keep running your mouth you're going to end up dead sooner than you, or any of us, want."

Mr. McCoy rested a hand on Caim's shoulder and pulled him back a step. "Caim, relax, scaring him won't solve anything." He looked at Mark. "But they're right, you shouldn't speak about yourself that way."

"Would you be yelling at Kitchie if he saved you?" Caim asked. "Or yell at me if I did, or someone else?"

Kitchie moved to sit beside his boyfriend and hewrapped an arm around his shoulders, hugging him. "We all love you Mark."

Mark didn't said anything, just looked away, and Quinn sighed. "God Mark," she mumbled.

"Don't do that Quinn, this isn't my fault. If you hadn't stuck your nose in my business-"

"Mark, there is nothing for anyone to be at fault for, and you're her friend so your life is her business," Ms. Dugan interveened. "Hank, grab a couple Advil for him please, just for him to take before the pain sets in." She walked around the group and her and Mr. McCoy went to the other end of the infirmary.

Caim sat down at the end of Quinn's bed, legs crossed, while Kitchie stayed next to Mark. Quinn looked at the ground, thinking that this was the way that they had been paired off lately, and how it was probably going to continue this way. She liked Caim, she really did, but she... she missed Mark. Not that she'd ever admit it out loud though.

"Quinn?"

She looked up at the sound of Mark's voice.

"You know, I really love you some days..."

A lump formed in Quinn's throat as she tried to swallow. The razor edge to his calm tone sent shivers up her spine and lodged something heavy in her stomach.

"...but some days I really hate you. You can be such a bitch and a pain in the ass somtimes."

Quinn tuned everything out after 'I hate you'. Nothing else mattered. There was only white noise and the feeling that someone was stepping on her chest. She couldn't breath and she couldn't move. Her brain wouldn't even think. It was like her whole body had just shut down. The only thing alive in her system was Mark's voice repeating that last line over and over and over and over and over...

She felt someone gently touch her arm, then shake her a little. The small motion seemed to turn on an on switch and suddenly her entire body was working. Her brain told her to run and she tore from the room. She didn't know where she was going, she just needed to go.