"Whoa, there!" Frank slaps his hand on Quinn's back, which does absolutely nothing to help the burning in her throat. Her eyes water, but she can breathe, so she's all right.
"I'm fine," she croaks out, wiping a hand over her mouth. She looks to Benny, who's taking Rachel's pulse. "Do you think I could wash up?" Really, she doesn't want to let Rachel out of her sight, but they're with another Berry, for crying out loud, and she needs a moment to herself.
"Sure, it's just around the corner, there," Frank answers for his friend.
"Thanks." Quinn does her best not to run toward the short hallway where there are two doorways. One leads into a bedroom, so she assumes the dark room is the bathroom. She shuts the door and fumbles to find the light switch, then realizes it's not shaped the way she's expecting and finally bathes the room in the light of the bare bulb that's mounted over the medicine cabinet.
As she looks in the mirror, she's relieved to see her own face looking back at her. With the way everyone's assumed she's a man, she was honestly worried that whatever sent them back in time also swapped her body with that of someone else. Then again, there's no way for her to know if she's the only one seeing herself.
If only Rachel would wake up.
Quinn washes her hands with the bar of soap that rests in the soapdish, then leans over the sink to splash water on her face. She manages to get soap in her eye and the sting only further reminds her that this isn't a dream. Or, if it isn't real, it's a damn good hallucination.
She dries her face on the hand towel, then uses her fingers to reposition the pieces of hair that have fallen free from the pomade. Originally, she had a hat, but it must still be in the alley. Or the future.
Potential family or not, Quinn doesn't want to leave Rachel's side for too long, not while she's still unconscious. She straightens her coat and presses the light switch, giving herself a few more seconds alone in the dark before she opens the door.
When she does, she hears Frank and Benny talking. Well, mostly just Frank, at first.
"I'm telling you, I think she's in a family way given the way that Quinn's so protective of her. Could explain why he's not saying much. Also, why they're alone in the city. Maybe they came to get married in the city because they couldn't do it out in the sticks."
"I'll keep your medical evaluation in mind, Frank."
"You think you can put these kids up at least for the night?"
"Are you giving me a choice in this?"
"You're a good man, Benny."
Quinn can't stand in the hallway forever, so she rejoins the men in the living room. "Anything?" she asks, looking down at Rachel.
"From my initial diagnosis, she doesn't appear to have any prominent head injuries, so she may be unconscious due to shock." Benny removes his glasses and rubs them with a handkerchief he pulls from his robe pocket. "You don't remember anything?"
"Just dancing. Then waking up in the alley." Benny gestures toward the vacant end of the sofa and Quinn carefully sits down.
"What about headache or dizziness?" Benny slips his glasses back on, then gently places his hands on either side of her head as he examines her for what she assumes is a sign of concussion or something.
"Headache, yes. Not really dizzy, though. My body's stiff, like I've been asleep. Or, it was. That's kind of worn off by now."
Benny hums in response and releases her head. He holds up one finger in front of her face. "Follow with your eyes," he says, before moving it back and forth, then side to side.
Quinn's familiar with this test, because it's part of every single sports physical she's ever endured. Benny seems satisfied with her reaction and returns his attention to Rachel. "Without knowing what happened to you, the most I can suggest is to wait for her to wake up."
Frank drains his glass and his next step is to pull a cigarette case out of his coat pocket. He offers one to Benny who waves his hand before he stands and disappears into the tiny kitchen.
"How about you, kid?" Frank asks, holding the case out to Quinn.
She hasn't smoked since the beginning of the school year and it was actually an easy habit for to drop. But right now, the appeal of a cigarette is borderline overwhelming. "Thanks," she says as she takes one. Frank gallantly offers her his lighter and the initial drag she takes is enough to make her lightheaded.
Benny emerges from the kitchen with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin, which he sets on the end table. "When she wakes, make sure she takes two of these."
"Hey, Ben, I hate to admit a patient and run, but if I'm not home soon, Agnes'll have the entire precinct looking for me." Frank picks up his hat from where he must have dropped it onto the table, earlier.
Benny doesn't look entirely pleased, but he also doesn't appear to be surprised. Quinn hates that she's at the mercy of someone else, but she has nowhere else to go.
"As soon as she wakes up, we'll... be out of your way." There's no telling when that will actually be or what state Rachel will actually be in when that happens, but Quinn doesn't want to put this guy out any more than she has to, possible unknowing relative or not.
There's another wave of the hand from Benny, which Frank takes as a sign of agreement. "You're a good man, doc. I'll check with you tomorrow." And then he's out the door.
Quinn puffs on her cigarette, momentarily overtaken by the potency of a mid-century Lucky Strike. It tastes different. Better, she thinks. But that could just be because it's her first in months.
Benny locks the door behind Frank, then turns back around, hands in his robe pockets. "I'm not sure if you heard, but Frank thinks... what's her name? Rachel? He thinks she's... with child."
"I, uh, don't think she is." Quinn leans forward to flick the ash into the large ashtray that sits in the middle of the coffee table.
"I don't, either." Benny reaches up to adjust his glasses on his face. "Though, if she is, it isn't yours."
Quinn freezes. "Excuse me?" She isn't sure why she's offended by the certainty of the statement.
"As a doctor of medicine, I've spent a lot of time working with the human body. And it's really none of my business, but you've come to me for help and I can't help but make a scientific observation. There's no way this woman is pregnant with your child." The way Benny's speaking is very enunciated, as if he's trying to make a very specific point. Then, more quietly, he says, "I have an Aunt Ruth and an Aunt Naomi who have lived together for over twenty years."
That's when it hits Quinn. He doesn't doubt that she and Rachel are a couple, he just knows Quinn isn't a man. Which is a relief. But it also raises another complication.
"You're... very understanding," is all she can think to say.
"Your business is none of mine." He shrugs and is about to say more, but there's something that sounds like singing coming from the other side of the front door. The singing grows louder and it's a woman's voice. It seems to stop moving directly in front of the door, then there's the sound of keys jingling. "Oh, for crying out loud, Miriam, it's the middle of the night," he says, not really to anyone. At least no one who can actually hear him.
Quinn snubs out her cigarette in the ashtray while Benny glares at the door, until they hear the door across the hall open and close, ultimately silencing the song. Mostly.
Benny shakes his head. "I'm going to bed. If she wakes up before I do and seems disoriented or ill, please let me know."
And then Quinn's left alone with Rachel in the living room. When the muffled song across the way comes to a stop, she realizes just how much she needs Rachel to be okay.