Crissy stood in front of the fire station for...she checked her watch again. The second hour in a row now. Clutched in her hands was a brown paper bag filled with apple, cherry, and blueberry turnovers. She told herself it was a peace offering but...it kind of felt more like a bribe. Deep down, she knew she had really brought the food for purely selfish reasons. It was more a safety net for her own peace of mind than anything else, which she mentally chastised herself for. But this wasn't going to be easy and the familiar smells of sugar and spices felt like she was bringing the comfort of her kitchen with her and it took the edge off of her nerves the tiniest, tiniest bit.

Well...not really.

Just get it over with already, she scolded herself.

"Hey Crissy!"

Crissy flinched and turned towards the voice. I'm not ready, I just need a few more minutes, please.

But it was Pete, not Quinn, who jogged up to her, a smile spreading from ear to ear, his cheeks a fierce red from the cold. He slid to a stop and eyed the bag in her hands.

"Hate to tell you this," he said, "but if that's for the guys, I'm totally intercepting it and not sharing."

Crissy managed a small smile despite how nervous she felt. "It's for Quinn."

Pete nodded and shoved his hands in his back pockets. "Well now, I know for a fact the old grump hates sharing and he'll kick my ass if I take his food. But uhm..." He paused and cast a sideways look at Crissy. "I wouldn't mind delivering it for you, if you'd like. I mean, you're probably pretty busy and all..."

"Nice try."

He shrugged. "Worth a shot. So..." He made a big show of looking around then glanced at the station. "Is Quinn leaving you out in the cold for a reason or...?"

"I...haven't let him know I'm here yet," she said. "I was going to surprise him."

"Oh, I'll go get him for you," Pete said.

"That's really not..."

But Pete was already across the road and into the station. Crissy sagged.

"...necessary."

She bounced on her toes and glanced over her shoulder. There was still time to make a run for it, she could change her mind, think about this a little more....

The station door opened and Quinn stepped out in a blue polo shirt and cargo pants but no jacket, his arms folded across his chest and his shoulders hunched against the cold.

"Crissy?" he said as he came to a stop several feet away from her. They were practically a canyon of space apart and it made Crissy ache to see it, to feel the cold rush of air that swirled between them. "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you."

"I know, I just...wanted to talk to you. About the other day. I think there's been a...misunderstanding. I think. Are you...are you busy?"

Quinn's gaze flickered for a moment, uncertain and guarded. "I'm on lunch break actually, only got a few more minutes left. Look, like I said, take all the time you need. It's no big deal."

Crissy stepped towards him but Quinn seemed to retreat from her. He didn't exactly step back, he didn't even move, but he squared his shoulders and straightened his spine, drawing himself up to his full height. Crissy felt small, so, so very small as she looked up at him. She didn't come any closer and she swallowed a sigh of frustration. Out of habit, she fell back on the only thing she knew well. She shoved the bag of food into the gaping hole between them.

"I brought you a little something," she said. "A few of your favorites."

At first, Quinn didn't take it, didn't even look like he was going to take it. He kept his hands tucked under his arms and he just looked at the bag, suspended from her fingers, waiting. Then, finally, he accepted it, the paper crackling like lightning in the overly quiet moment. He didn't open it or show the slightest interest in the contents. Instead, he hooked his thumb in his pocket and let the bag dangle from two fingers, as if he didn't want to have anything to do with it, could barely stand holding it at all.

Crissy clasped her gloved hands together, willing herself to not snatch the bag away from him again. She wanted to take it back, to clutch it in front of her like a shield. She felt bare, vulnerable, exposed without the warmth of the pastries seeping through her gloves and the smells wrapping around her like a blanket. Give them back, she thought. I want them if you don't.

Quinn shifted from one foot to the other and looked down the road. Crissy wanted to scream into the suffocating silence. Say something, say something, say something! But she wasn't sure who she would be screaming at – herself or Quinn. When at last Quinn spoke, he kept his gaze trained down the road and away from her.

"Is everything about food with you?" he said.

All the breath rushed out of Crissy as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. She bit her lip as she stepped back and her gaze dropped to the trodden, muddy snow at her feet. The words sounded so...bitter, so sour, like Quinn could hardly hold them in his mouth any longer than absolutely necessary before he got rid of them. As if...as if the words disgusted him. As if she disgusted him.

Suddenly, Quinn seemed to realize the impact of what he'd just said and his head snapped back towards her.

"Wait," he said, extending a hand out to her. "I didn't mean..."

Crissy half turned away from him, couldn't look at him, wouldn't look at him. "Yes you did," she said. "You meant every word. Otherwise you wouldn't have said it."

She started walking the seemingly interminable two blocks back to the coffee shop, back to the safety and comfort and warmth of her kitchen, her wonderful, perfect, amazing kitchen that she would probably never leave again for any man, no matter how much Amy might plead with her about it. Quinn hurried to catch up with her, his footsteps crunching in the snow.

"Crissy, please stop," he said. "I only meant...it came out wrong."

She stopped so suddenly, Quinn almost ran into her. When she looked up at him, she couldn't hide the tears on her face and she hated herself for it. Quinn started to reach for her, his eyes filled with concern and horror at his mistake. But Crissy tilted her body away from him, refusing his touch.

"Please leave me alone," she whispered.

Crissy turned around again and continued on her route back to the coffee shop. This time, Quinn didn't try to follow which only made Crissy cry even harder.

She pushed into the coffee shop, blindly stripping off her gloves, her sodden boots, her scarf, her coat, as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. She crawled under her covers, fished her bulging, worn scrapbook of recipes from beneath her bed and held it close as she curled up and cried, Quinn's words echoing in her head over and over.