Part 51: Trouble-1

Quinn was having the weirdest dream. There was a giant, flying gnat in Lucas' penthouse, buzzing in and out of all the rooms making a sound like a buzz saw, hurting his brain. Lucy was there all of a sudden, like an avenging angel. She cast some sort of spell and vanquished the pest. He opened his eyes slowly; it felt like there were 50-pound weights attached to his eyelids. He was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling; the buzzing was that of the florescent lights. He was in the hospital. What the hell happened? "You're awake. That's a very good sign. We've been pumping you full of antibiotics for hours now. I'm your nurse, Erick." A man with kind, brown eyes hovered over him. "Here, if you can sit up a bit, have a drink." It was the best idea he'd heard in a very long time. He felt like his tongue was superglued to the roof of his mouth. He gulped greedily from the glass of water. "Easy now," Erick said. "You don't want it all to come back up." Quinn slowed down to sips, and then sat back on the pillow, exhausted by the effort. "What happened," he croaked, his throat raw. "You're going to be feeling some pain in your throat; we had to intubate. You went into respiratory failure for a bit." "Jesus Christ," Quinn muttered. "What's wrong with me?" Erick gave a furtive glance towards the door. "Your doctor will be in in the morning to explain everything." Quinn fixed him with a stare. "Come on, Erick. Just level with me. I need to know — have I got the flu, or am I going to die in the night?" Erick chuckled. "Neither. OK, you're going to be just fine. Have you noticed pins and needles, or any numbness in your left arm lately?" He moved his arm slightly. "The one where I was stabbed. Come to think of it, yeah." Erick nodded. "You've suffered some nerve damage there. It's why you've been having some difficulty with your hand, like grasping a knife. I know you're a chef and I see you have another deep cut on your thumb; you should have had it stitched up. Between both injuries, you were on your way to a pretty serious staph infection before we caught it. But with some physio to get your arm back to normal, you should be just fine." He exhaled. Some good news for once. "How long have I been here? And can I have my phone? I have to call my girlfriend and tell her I'm OK." There was a hint of a smile in Erick's dark eyes. He pointed to the floor. Quinn looked down, and Lucy was there, peaceful and sweet in her sleep. "She brought you here earlier this morning and she hasn't left your side. She asked for a cot to sleep near you, even though we told her you were fine, and we just needed to keep you overnight. She'd been up for about three days straight at that point. You're a lucky man," he said. "You don't have to tell me," Quinn said. Calmed, he closed his eyes and quickly settled back into sleep. This time the dream was all light and pleasure. He was walking on a beach with Lucy back home in Nova Scotia; a little blond boy on his shoulders. The feeling he had was intense. When he thought about it later, the closest he could get to describing it was a sensation of pure joy. He lifted the child from his shoulders and tossed him in the air. The toddler's hair and skin were a burnished gold, and he was laughing in the sun. __________ "Easy, big fella. Lean on me, now." Lucy opened the door to the penthouse, her arm around Quinn's waist. "I'm fine," he said, coughing. "You're not fine. The doctor says you're cleared to fly in a couple of days, but only if you rest beforehand. So, the first order of business is getting you into bed." Quinn doubled over, a sharp pain in his belly. "I think I'm going to be sick," he said. "Bathroom," Lucy said, her arm around him, steering him forward. "I don't want you to see me like this," he said, gasping. "Like what — human? You don't have to be Superman around me, Quinn." She deposited him on the floor in front of the toilet and rubbed his back. "They said you'd be nauseous from the medication. Go ahead," she pointed to the toilet. "Better out than in." She retrieved a washcloth and soaked it under the cool water, returning to him and wiping his face. It felt like heaven. "Not with you in here," he said with his eyes closed, fighting the nausea. "Look, you're probably going to see me puke plenty of times," she said. "Especially if we decide to have a kid." "What did you just say?" Quinn opened his eyes. "You heard me. Now, barf!" He took her hand. "You've never said anything about having kids before. I didn't think you wanted them." "Well, I'm in my 30s so time is of the essence, but I think you'd make a really wonderful father and I'm always up for adventure, so it's something we can talk about. And if we're going to do it, you can't be scared of a little barf. And other nasty substances. I helped my sister look after her twin babies, remember. I have a bit of a clue about what goes on there, even if it was years ago." He put his arm around her and held her close. His heart pounded in his chest, and the dream came back to him again, the scene on the beach — walking with Lucy and the little boy with Lucy's eyes and his unruly hair. He smiled at the memory. Just before he threw up on them both. _________ "Correction: First order of business is a bath." She was sitting behind him in the tub with her legs wrapped around him. She had washed his back and his hair; he closed his eyes in pleasure as she scratched her nails lightly over his scalp, the way that he loved.