Cold As You

The clang of the doorbell jerked Quinn from her morose reverie, and she reluctantly rose from the couch at Sam and Lil's. Logan's grandparents had been keeping him occupied with pleasure, leaving Quinn with little to do but dwell on her grief and the unfairness of it all. Her only consolation was that the weather matched her mood, icy raindrops pelting down, audible as they hit the roof.

When she pulled the door open, Quinn's jaw dropped; Clay stood on the doorstep, more soaked than when he had run out in the rain to stop her car from leaving the beach house all those years ago. "Hey," he said quietly, sounding slightly hoarse.

"Honey, what on earth are you doing here? Get inside, it's freezing!" Quinn grabbed his sleeve and pulled him indoors. It was so soaked that her fingertips were damp when she let go. "What were you trying to do out there, drown yourself?"

"No," he protested, his dark blue eyes so bright with an oncoming temperature that she could hardly tell where the rain ended and the threat of tears began. "I was only...sorry," he broke off and coughed roughly. "Only drowning the pain." Finally, he slipped off his jacket and folded his arms around himself.

"How did that work out for you?" Quinn kept her tone light, even though shattered was the only word coming to mind to describe the man she loved right now. "Hang on, let me go find you a towel." She raided Sam and Lil's linen closet in record time and returned to find Clay on the couch she had just vacated. Trembling fingers pressed over his eyes, his breath shaky and shallow while she silently rubbed his hair dry. "What happened?" she asked softly when she was finished.

"I s-s-screwed up." Clay pressed his lips together to stop his teeth chattering, sniffling miserably. Before Quinn could speak, he ducked his head and stifled a sneeze with his sleeve. "Excuse me. Now, I get to be both a bad father and a failure as an agent. So much for fortitude, huh? Nathan shouldn't have to fix my mistakes; I've b-been doing this for longer. I bet he and Callie coerced me into coming home before I could do more—" Clay paused and took another suspiciously hitchy breath. "Sorry. More damage to our clients."

"That's not the reason," said Quinn firmly. "They care about you. You shouldn't have been trying to get back to work so soon. Just give all the feelings some time to settle. Trust me, I find thinking about what we lost aches in places I didn't even know I had inside me."

"You're very good at poetic phrasing, but that doesn't make it hurt any less." Clay was almost holding his breath now, but the minute Quinn reached for his hand, the dam broke. "Damn it! I don't know how to do this again, Q. I keep having nightmares about losing you like Sara…Logan is a mess; it's—"

"Bless you...and again," Quinn interjected when two harsh sneezes in a row slipped out, interrupting the emotional rant. "It's what, exactly?"

"Too much," he said, his voice raspy and faint with exhaustion. "God, my head is killing me."

"It's a lot," Quinn admitted: "but we can handle it. Insanely in love, remember? That might mean we'll have to get through some big and insanely horrible things. Which, you know, technically, we already have, right?"

Clay exhaled slowly as if trying to get a handle on the surge of grief. "Yeah," he sighed. "I suppose we have."

"Do you need me to tell you again what an incredible father and badass super-agent you are?" Quinn asked. "Because I will. Missing one meeting doesn't change that; Nathan knows his stuff now. That's also thanks to you, I might add. I won't let my favorite person be so hard on himself, understand? I love you too much!"

Clay rubbed his nose and took another shaky breath. "Mom would have a freaking field day with this meltdown if she were here," he groaned. "Between her and Lily pushing all the emotional buttons, it's no wonder I—" he paused and cursed under his breath before another muted sneeze slipped out. "Sorry. I was saying I...uh, I feel so bloody fragile."

"Go easy on your mother," said Quinn defensively. "Actually, I…I have a confession to make. I came to Raleigh to visit Sara's grave. I asked Marie to meet me there, and talking to her helped much more than I expected."

"Really?" Clay stared at her in amazement. "I thought taking sorrows to the cemetery was...was my—" He ducked his head and let out another sneeze, squinting through watery eyes when it passed. "My thing."

"Your thing, huh? Hate to break it to you, babe, but now it seems to be mine, too." Quinn rested her head on his shoulder with a soft sigh. "Logically, I know I'm far from the first person with this kind of loss, but it helped to share stories. She's tough, your mother. I needed that right now."

"Clearly, I do, too." Clay swiped furiously at his eyes, on the verge of losing control again. "You might not want to get too close. I really don't feel very—" Another desperate sneeze cut him off. "Very well."

"I'd call that all the more reason to stay close," his wife argued. She straightened up and eyed him in concern. "You want some tea or something? You're shaking."

"No, thanks." Clay shook his head, but when she tried to shift to give him some space, he grabbed her hand like a lifeline, and even his fingers trembled in her grasp. "Just stay…please."

Quinn didn't bother to point out the contradicting statements. She wanted to stay as close as she could tell he needed her to, contagion be damned. She angled herself so that she could feel his hot tears when his forehead pressed into her shoulder. "Till kingdom come," she whispered, clutching his fingers fiercely. "It's gonna be okay, I promise."

"Don't tell my mom about this," he begged. "She worries enough as it is."

"What makes you think I'm any less worried about you?" Quinn pointed out. "I doubt the size of your heart is a big secret anyway; mothers know stuff like that."

"Quinn, I'm serious," he repeated urgently, and she rolled her eyes impatiently.

"Alright, fine, I won't tell your mom how big your feelings are, I promise." But she frowned suspiciously as his breath hitched audibly once more. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," said Clay reflexively. Quinn watched him disbelievingly, the sniffles and hitching gasps growing more frequent by the second. "I actually wouldn't mind a...a-hetschiew!" Clay ducked his head and sneezed three times, each more strained and exhausted than the last. "Tissue," he finished, sniffling miserably. "Sorry. I guess trying to drown my sorrows in the rain was a pretty stupid thing to do."

"You can say that again." Quinn left him wiping his streaming eyes with trembling fingers and set off in search of tissues. She heard the desperate sniffles all the way down the hallway and found him fanning his flushed face when she returned. "Not feeling good seems like an understatement, babe. I doubt I'll have to tell your mother anything." She shook her head affectionately. "Trying to drown yourself in the downpour says it all, silly fellow. I think you might need that tea after all, like it or not."

"Don't exaggerate!" Despite the indignation, Clay's chest heaved with the failed effort it took to stifle another sneeze. "I was only—" his breath hitched dramatically. "Only drowning m-my...excuse me," he managed before the sneeze burst out; "Hetschoo!" Groaning pitifully, he grabbed a fistful of tissues from the box Quinn had strategically placed before him and promptly sneezed twice more. "Only drowning my feelings," he croaked at last. "I've been a knucklehead since birth; I doubt that's new information to Mom. I think I've changed my mind about the tea, though. Sounds like a pretty good idea."

"Your British roots really show sometimes," Quinn laughed. "I can't function without caffeine in my system. And by the way, drowning feelings is no better than drowning yourself, knucklehead."

"Whatever." Clay rolled his eyes, then pressed his fingers to his sinuses with a groan. "Ow, bad idea. You know, I liked the delivery girl more than the coffee itself, to be honest with you. She was kind of amazingly persistent and always knew what I needed." Despite the light teasing, Clay grimaced. "Ugh, I can't breathe!"

"Spoiler alert, she still does," said Quinn gently. "Take it easy. I'll go get that tea before Lil descends to start fussing again. Logan can't hold his grandparents hostage forever. Your mother isn't the only one with a tendency to hover."

"Don't I know it?" Clay leaned back against the soft cushions with a weary sigh. "And you wonder why it took me so many years to face them again after Sara was gone. The affection never stopped, even when...when I—" Clay broke off and reached for another tissue just in time. "When I didn't deserve it." Quinn's warm hand rubbed his back soothingly through the coughing fit. "I'm sorry about all this; I'm an idiot."

"Would you stop apologizing? You always deserve it," she said, more sternly now. She pressed a kiss to his forehead when his eyes drooped shut. "I'll be right back, just relax." Clay's fingers brushed over the spot where her lips had lingered moments before, unpleasant heat radiating against his palm. And he had no one to blame for it but his idiotic martyrdom.

Quinn was still finding her way around the kitchen when Lil joined her a little later. "Can I help you find something?"

Quinn spun around with a startled little gasp. "Hi. I was just looking for the tea. Clay's gone and made himself sick, loitering in the rain. I really don't understand why he's always punishing himself like this."

"It can wait," Lil told her. "I gave him some medicine, and he's napping now. I know what you mean about the martyr streak; he didn't ask for anything."

"You probably fall under the mom category. He was literally begging me not to tell Marie about this."

"That means a lot to me," said Lil softly, but her eyes held unspoken concern. "How are you holding up, sweetheart? We love having you here so much; knowing it's because you're sad is unfortunate."

"Weirdly, I'm almost glad Clay finally pushed himself too far," Quinn admitted. "Taking care of someone is the best medicine. I can't start thinking about the baby too much because it's devastating. But Logan helped me realize something very important. I'm still a mom, thanks to him."

"Of course you are," said Lil firmly. "Hell, even if Logan didn't exist, you became a mom the second you two created that baby. My girls are both angels, but I never stopped being their mom. That's not how it works."

"You and Marie are more alike than you realize. She went completely sappy on me at the cemetery earlier, saying this baby would always be a part of my story and whatnot."

"Sentimentality and life advice are parental rights. I'm not surprised to hear that," Lil smiled.

"I'm sorry you lost both your girls after knowing and loving them," said Quinn softly, and Lil's smile faltered. "This baby was a dream that shattered. I can't imagine having years with my children only to lose them forever…twice! How do you do it?"

"You don't have a choice," said Lil thoughtfully. "They're always with me; the memories helped me through the grief. Having Logan with us saved our lives, so we didn't judge Clay nearly as hard as he always feared we would. Having all three of you in our lives now is such a blessing."

"Well, that feeling is certainly mutual," said a hoarse voice from the kitchen doorway. Lil spun around to see Clay leaning against the door frame, still looking clammy and pale. "Not crying, just for the record," he added, wiping his streaming eyes with his sleeves. "I ran out of tissues, that's all. This bloody cold is a...a-hetschiew!" The desperate sneeze stole what was left of Clay's voice, and he ended the sentence in a whisper. "A menace. Excuse me."

"Whatever you say, honey." Lil shook her head affectionately. "I was going to ask how you're feeling, but the answer is pretty clear."

"The zombies will be coming for me any time now," Clay joked, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table with a shaky sigh. "Is tea still on offer?"

"Of course, coming right up." Lil busied herself with the kettle, and Quinn stood behind Clay, gently massaging his shoulders.

"You're a saint," he moaned, leaning back into her arms.

"I think your temperature is normal again," Quinn mused. "Your hair's so sweaty it's as if we didn't dry it earlier."

"So you don't think I'm hot anymore?" Clay teased. "Sergio is offended!"

"You're definitely fine if Sergio is surfacing," Quinn laughed. "All the more reason to forget about all the clients on the road. The Shutterbug costume is waiting in my closet for you to come home. She's certainly offended that Sergio left her to scout a bunch of silly athletes."

"Well, you can tell her those silly athletes pay the rent on our big-ass beach house," Clay pointed out.

"Oh, I know that. She's not as easily convinced, though." Quinn stroked back his sweaty hair gently. "I'm proud of you, no matter what. This one Nathan had to pick up the slack for today changes nothing. We're going to be just fine, I promise."

"Come here." Clay tugged Quinn onto his knees and clasped his arms around her. "I love you, you know that? Thank you for everything you are, Quinn James. You'll have lots of babies one day; I know it." Quinn's affectionate smile faltered, and she pressed her head against his shoulder. "That's a little close, sweetie. I really don't want to get you sick."

"But I wanted this baby," she whimpered. "Every time I think I'm okay, words like that feel like a twisted knife to a vital organ. It's not fair!"

"No, it's not," he agreed, thinking of Sara again. But this time, he didn't call life unfair out loud. Cursing the universe never did ease the pain; if only healing could be that simple.

Back in Tree Hill, Melissa and Bobby had snuck off to Katie's dingy motel room again. "I don't understand why you can't just stay with us," Melissa complained for the umpteenth time. "Kevin's not even home most of the time. The case he's working on these days takes him out of town quite a bit."

But Katie wasn't listening. She stroked the fabric of Melissa's cloth bag, the shape of the gun visible inside it. "You stole a cop's gun? Are you crazy?"

"It's Kevin's personal one." Melissa was dismissive, but Katie could see the tremor of her fingers when she waved away the concerns. "He won't miss it for a while; he's too busy these days."

"And what do you think I can do with it?" Katie demanded cynically.

"Something I can't," said her sister seriously. "Get rid of my husband."

A/N Cured my own nasty cold throwing it all at poor Clay this week, enjoy! xx