quinn_pro_quo | (no subject)

(no subject)

Quinn had spent some time at Francis' place already now, so she easily made herself at home again when she was brought back over. She knew at some point he was going to ask for her help. She knew that whatever was going on in his head, it wasn't stable enough and it wasn't that easy to work with. She hoped that she could help him out and make everything settle more firmly into place. She couldn't promise that it would work though. They could only work on it and see how it went.

She had, of course, immediately flopped herself down on his couch, arm across the back of the couch like she owned the place. She loved this apartment. It was chic and gorgeous and airy and had an amazing view. Darcy's place was boring and boring and really fucking boring. Maybe Quinn was simply bored, but it was easier to blame it on her sister.

"How do you want to do this, sunshine?" she asked from where she was sitting, head back.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A few seconds passed from the time she left his mind until he dropped her hand. He drew a deep breath, sighed. "So that is what's going on," he said quietly. "And while I know I need to structure this somehow, I don't quite know where to start. Especially not since I'm still so weak."

She watched him and felt helpless. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do or offer him. It wasn't going to be easy.

"I... until you can get a structure in there, you aren't going to get stronger. That's going to keep moving and flowing and keep it really difficult to hold it together," Quinn knew that he already knew all that. This wasn't really helping, was it?

"I mean, I can help you set up walls and work on getting things so they aren't so fluid, but I don't know how much you trust me with that," she looked wary.

He cocked his head to the side, looking at her with those clear, sharp blue eyes of his. Did he trust her with that. He had a fear of letting people into his head at all, and the thought of someone actually working on him was worrying. But the thing was; she had already done that. And he wasn't looking for someone to fix him, he was looking for someone to help him, to work with him and to keep him steady.

"I do trust you with that," he finally said.

That was more than she expected and a hell of a lot faster. He trusted her? No one trusted her. Quinn was always getting herself into trouble and she was constantly doing crazy things that no one understood because seh got bored and here he was going to trust her to help him out. What if she couldn't do it? Dammit, what did it matter? She wasn't about to let him suffer like this either. Not if she could do something. When had anything held her back from getting in over her head. Maybe that's why people were nervous around her.

"Okay," she said, "Do you want to guide me in letting me know what needs to boxed up or..." She didn't want to go laying brick when she could be putting it in the wrong place.

"Yes. I think we have a better chance at this if we work together." He did know his own mind, knew what it should be.

Hmm, interesting. First she helped him organize his apartment to what he wanted it. Now she was going to be helping him do the same thing with his mind. Interesting parallel there.

"No time like the present, I suppose." Swallowing down his anxiousness he offered her a smile and once again held out his hand.

Okay, well at leas they were on the same page there. He looked nervous though and she really didn't like when other people were nervous. She usually went into things like she knew exactly what she was doing and no one could stop her. Apparently not this time. There was something different about screwing around in Francis' head.

Quinn took his hand again, trying to convey that he needed to trust her. If he was too anxious and wavered, she might not be able to help like she should.

he did trust her, but it was no small thing, giving someone access to his mind like this.

Once she was inside he did his best to form a more solid presence for her to interact with, like an avatar. The result was ghostly at best, but it should make interaction between them easier. And so they set to work.

It was hard work, but once they had figured out where to begin it got easier. And the more they worked, the stronger Francis felt. It was much like his resources had been spread too thin so that nothing worked the way it should. But the more they could focus him, the better things worked.

It was like laying the groundwork for something bigger. She had to set up the base for where he would be able to stand and as they worked through all of that, the easier it was to see where things needed to be.

She took her time, trying to be careful with what and where she helped. Quinn didn't want to overstep her bounds and she didn't want to put something in place, but as they continued, it almost came together on it's own. She could see what needed to be worked with, what could be left alone. She felt that some of it he would need to work on on his own. It would help to strengthen him further.

It was eerie being in his head like this. He had almost a figure to interact with, but it was kind of creepy, though she did her best to keep that to herself. She wasn't going to let him fade into the background. She refused to.

Over time the distortions grew lessened, the static noise fainter. It wasn't going away completely, not yet. But this gave Francis hope that it would over time. Everything wasn't going to be fixed right now, it would take more effort on his part, with exercises, to build up his strength. Just like she had suggested, just like he had guessed.

Enough for one day, he eventually conveyed. His head was pounding, but he didn't mind. If he was going to compare it to anything, it was like the way muscles could ache after a really thorough massage.

When he called it, she pulled back and out. Quinn was careful about it because she knew that it wouldn't be easy and she didn't want to shock his system more than it already did. He had a lot to go through before he was secure again and that was something he would have to work on.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked.

Once she was out he slumped, letting himself topple to the side to lie down, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "For once it's pretty quiet in there," he mumbled half to her and half to himself. It hurt and he felt drained and beat-up, but he was smiling. "An aspirin and some water would be nice, though."

She never saw someone quite as strong as he was. He could take a beating and then work through it like it was nothing. He had a lot to deal with and yet he was just doing his thing and making it work and being optimistic about it.

Quinn patted his leg and got up. Having helped him put things away she knew where everything was and grabbed a glass of water and a couple pills. Instead of sitting beside him like she had before, Quinn crouched in front of him holding the glass and pills in one hand and tentatively reached out to brush her hand through his hair. "You okay?"

He opened an eye to look at her when she brushed her fingers through his hair. "It hurts like hell," he confessed, because it did. In fact, it hurt enough to make him sweat and make his eyes tear up. But he was still smiling. "But it still feels better."

He pushed himself up a bit to swallow a couple of pills and wash them down with a few deeps gulps of water, after which he slumped back down again. "I'm just gonna lie here for a bit."

She watched him for a moment. Quinn didn't get sentimental or even let herself be very attached to people, so it was strange to her that he was bringing out all these feelings of wanting to be protective and help him. She decided that was enough feeling for her today and pull back, setting the glass of water on the table and standing.

"Okay," she murmured, standing up and going to stare out the window for a minute. She had a headache herself now that she thought about it. Quinn folded her arms over her chest, feeling a weight on her shoulders that she hadn't noticed before. She was trying her best to ignore it.

Sleeping was impossible with this kind of headache, but he did manage to zone out a bit, curled up on the couch with his arms folded over his head. It was a lot like dealing with a migraine.

An hour or so later he felt better, good enough to rejoin the world of the living, so to speak. He gingerly pushed himself up on his elbows, looking around. Where was Quinn? Was she still there?

She'd only migrated just outside onto the balcony again. She was sitting, legs curled up on the chair and staring out at the view, eyes vacant. She did this a lot lately. She used to do that all the time when she was in a group home. Nothing worked and nothing felt right, so she spent all her time staring, mind wandering through nothing. It was miserable, quite frankly.

So, that was where he'd find her. Just as vacant as before.

He saw her through the windows, curled up on one of the chairs out on the balcony. He got up and wandered out there, a bit unsteady and feeling much like he was dealing with a hangover.

"Hey." He leaned against the doorpost, facing her way. "How are you feeling?"

It took a second for her to pull herself out of that thought, or lack of, eyes coming into focus and trying to remember what it felt like to be ready to answer people when they asked her something. It was only when things were quiet like this that she couldn't get herself together as quickly.

"Fine," she managed, looking back at where the voice was coming from, "you?"

She didn't look fine. She looked almost... lost?

"Infinitely better," he said. "I'm about five second away from giving you a hug." Though right now he wasn't sure if that would be welcome or not. So he held back, watching her and trying get a sense of where she was, her state of mind. She was not fine.

And she wasn't going to talk about it, so he should just move on. She could feel it in him and so she instead turned back to the view and kept herself just as curled up as before, trying to make herself comfortable and relax. Her mind wanted to wander though. Maybe helping him like that had been a little more than she could handle yet.

No, a hug was not appropriate right now. Instead he moved to her side and sat down on the floor, legs crossed. Silent for a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?" He eventually asked. He would ask once, wouldn't try to drag whatever it was out of her.

He sat down beside her but on the floor and when he asked, she smiled, even if it looked more painful than appreciative. Glancing down at him, she took a breath and shook her head, "There's not really much to say about it."

That was the understatement of the year. There was plenty to say about it. She was lost and she felt hopeless and she didn't know where she fit in anymore and she wished she could have simply disappeared instead.

There was obviously things to say. Her whole posture, the look in her eyes screamed that there was. But maybe she wasn't ready to talk, and he could respect that. "Whenever you want to, I'll listen," he simply said. "Do you want to be alone?"

She did appreciate that he would offer and that he wanted to listen, because she believed that he actually did. Before they managed to help Francis, she'd be on her own, the only one who knew what it was like to be trapped. She couldn't talk to Darcy or Ford or Casper because none of them actually understood it and now that she had someone to talk to, she couldn't make sense of it.

"No," she said, answering faster than she meant to, "No, I... no. I don't like being alone much."

"Then you don't have to be," he said, calmly. But it was a situation of give and take, he felt. He couldn't help her unless she let him in. If she didn't talk, then he couldn't understand.