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.

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"And you know you'll be able to? I mean, you'll fit in and just do it..." she said, her voice trailing off after a moment. She wasn't sure what she was getting at. This wasn't easy and she hated that she couldn't simply make the best of it. Why couldn't she make sense of what she was trying to do?

"You don't think you'll be lost trying to fit back in?"

He spent a moment giving that some thought before answering. "I don't even know what I might be able to do yet," he started. "But... Yes, I think I will be. At first." And he had a feeling that he would be stuck with a new reputation from now on. There's Francis Miller, once a really strong guy who was turned into a nutter and is now basically crippled. Unless he did make a full recovery.

"The world didn't stop to wait for me." Or her. But he didn't say that. "It changed. And I guess I changed too, but not along with my corner of the world. So in that sense, yes, I am lost."

That was not as comforting as she hoped it would be. She thought that maybe if he had made it through this and he could find a place back in the world without worrying about it then maybe they could both make it. But they were lost and she was alone and she hated this feeling. She couldn't make sense of it and she was stuck.

Quinn lifted her hands to her face and covered it, taking a deep breath and unable to hold back the tears that broke free. She didn't sob. She barely made any noise, but she was crying and she didn't want him to see it. It was too late for that.

She started crying, and he nearly breathed a sigh of relief. It was better to cry, he knew, to let it out.

Slowly, not rushing, giving her a moment, he moved from her side to stand on his knees in front of her. "Quinn, look at me." His voice was kind, soft, and he reached up to gently pull her hands away from her face. "It's okay to be lost. It's okay."

He was in front of her a moment later, pulling her hands from her face so she would look at him. Eyes red and wet, cheeks flushed from the rush of emotion. She felt horrible.

She continued to cry, trying to look at him and having to glance away, trying to hold back the sobs that wanted to break free, but it hurt either way.

"I just don't feel anything," she managed through gasping breaths, "I'm bitter and nothing else. There's no motivation, I don't want to do anything and I don't fit anywhere."

All those practical things, where to go, what to do, what kind of job that would suit her, that wasn't for him to say. But one thing there stuck with him, that he felt he did need to address to at least give another point of view.

"The bitterness won't help you," he said. He still held he hands in his, and let them drop down on her lap. "You need to face that, why you are bitter. And find a way to let it go."

She shook her head, squeezing his hands in her in a death grip as if that would make it better. She hated feeling so bitter about everything and that was where the problem lied.

"I c-can't..." she gasped again, trying to speak through sobs, "I can't... I can't do anything about what's been done. I lost years of my life and for what? It all ended up at a dead end anyway. I was stupid and used and... no one hardly knows I exist."

"Your sister knows. Your brother knows. Ford knows. I know. That's a start, isn't it?" Regret? Was that was it was? Having given so much basically for nothing?

"No, you can't change anything about what's been done. That you also have to accept. What you can do something about is what you will do from now on."

She felt like someone should know. Like maybe if those that broke her knew she was no longer to be used by anyone. Maybe she wanted revenge. Maybe, but she couldn't convince herself that was the only problem. She was worried that she wasted her life trying to be some kind of spy or some kind of undercover worker, like she was worth anything, when in reality she had no training and no place doing that.

"I don't know what to do..." she murmured, the tears slowing, but still feeling the ache. "I don't feel any desire to do anything. I'm lonely and can't do anything about it and... God I sound like such a little girl."

Had she made mistakes that led her to to a point where she could get hurt? Yes, Francis believed that she had. But that didn't make it all her fault. She had been young and impulsive and rash, yes. But that's what mentors were for, to help and guide, and to rein in and even stop you when needed. But hers had enabled her to run ahead into places she hadn't been ready for.

"There's nothing wrong with that." Everyone needed to be allowed to be weak at times. And she was lonely. he'd already understood that. And, at that moment, he was really all she had. How could that not make her lonely?

"I can't do this. I can't make this worse and I can't go to Darcy with it because she's already gone through hell. She'd relapse and be a fucking mess," Quinn replied. Now she had given up on any filter and simply started to rant.

"I spent all that time in that place and even if I can't remember every moment, I do remember just sitting and waiting for it all to end. I'd lost all purpose and now I'm still feeling that way and I can't... I can't do it. I can't make sense of it and I can't make it work and I don't have any answers and I hate feeling powerless."

"I think your sister is stronger than that," he said, and he believed it. There were strength in her, he'd sensed it. "But if you still feel you can't, then don't. I'm here too." And she was talking, which must mean that he had some of her trust at least.

"Listen to me." He leaned forward a little bit. "What happened to you was a terrible thing." They had endured similar but different, the two of them, and he couldn't even imagine just waiting like that, waiting for it to end. "You were powerless, that's true. But you are not now. You need for find a way to see that."

He leaned forward to speak to her, genuinely trying to help her and she saw how apparently she'd been ranting like a crazy person. What good was she if she couldn't pull herself together at all?

"I think..." she started, tears rolling down her cheeks again, "I think I still need more time. I'm nearly recovered, but... I don't think I'm ready to face anything and I don't know when I will be."

"Bit by bit, Quinn. You don't have to do it all at once. But you can't wait too long." The risk of leaving it alone was that she could get even more stuck in that way of thinking, that lack of motivation.

She felt more hopeless. She didn't like time constraints. It meant she was going to run out of time. It mean that she was limited on what she could get away with. She had to do something sooner than later and she sort of hated that.

"But... I've now told someone," she said, hoping that earned her a few brownie points.

"You have," he agreed and gave her a slight smile, hoping to be encouraging. "Which does mean that you have started. Just.. don't stop after this, Quinn. Please."

Why was he pleading with her over this? What did he have invested? Yes, they had become friends, tied together by something neither of them expected. It was lucky they ended up anywhere near each other. None of it was anything short of a miracle.

Quinn stared down at him and swallowed hard, trying to hold back that raging emotion inside her. She didn't know what to do short of throw herself into his arms. She stopped herself from doing that. "I... o-okay."

She stopped herself, but apparently he had other plans. "Can I give you that hug now? It has been well over five seconds," he asked, trying to inject a bit of humor into the situation to show that not everything was dark and gloomy.

The tears were still present in her eyes, but she laughed, wiping her face and nodded to him. He'd have to instigate it. She wasn't good at that. Maybe Quinn was going to have to get used to having someone who wanted to hug her and tell her it was alright. She'd never had that before.

He still smiled. Pulling her forward lightly before he let go of her hands, then fortier with his hands behind her shoulders until she had to lean down against him and his arms could go around her back.

It took all of two seconds after his arms slid around her that she broke down again. Trembling in his hold, Quinn slid out of the chair and half into his lap, arms tightening around him while she cried into his shirt. She didn't know she had that much in her, that she was aching that badly and that apparently she'd finally hit the point where she could no longer hold back that pain. He'd already seen it and felt it. He knew and so she let it go in front of him.

Jesus, what had happened to her?

This was going to be a long hug.

When she slid out of the chair he just tightened his hold on her, holding her tightly. With an arm around her back and a hand resting on the back of her head, he cradled her against him, rocking slowly from side to side. Just letting her cry, letting her get it out, mumbling soothing words that it was going to be alright.

This stopped being a hug about ten seconds ago. Now it was an embrace, borderline cuddling, just more tears.

Quinn let herself cry, let herself feel him comforting her. She allowed it to go on while she got rid of every last bit of energy she had to put into this. While he held her, she realized she didn't feel lonely. She was still upset, yes, but not lonely.

It wasn't for a few minutes that she finally stopped crying, but that didn't stop her from remaining tucking in against him, face pressed to his neck and arms tightly around him. Quinn's hands were fisted in his shirt for a long while until she released it just enough to stop wrinkling the fabric.

He felt when her sobs subsided and when they did he didn't let go. Still he held her cradled against him, giving her an extra moment of comfort.

This wasn't just from the four years that had been stoled from her, he thought. No, this ran deeper than that. But she had told him, hadn't she? About what her family had been like before. Her childhood. If he was right, then this break had been a long time coming.

By time Quinn started to realize that this was about to turn into a really awkward time of her trying to climb off his lap with as much dignity as she could muster, she was already trying to figure out her exit plan. Maybe she could just leave and catch a cab or... she could go on a walk.

But she knew she didn't actually want to be alone. There was this very distinct and foreign ache to be close to someone right now and she was having a hard time pinpointing where that was coming from. She wasn't good at emotion.

Quinn pulled back and brushed at Francis' shirt to occupy herself, "sorry."