If You Were Here Today
Medical records. Blinking lights. The nurse checked the monitors beside a young woman's unmoving body.
Lucy Q. Fabray. Seventeen years old. Lima, Ohio.
"Quinnie," Judy Fabray sniffled in the chair beside her daughter. She grasped Quinn's baby blanket tightly, her eyes brimming with tears. "It can't end like this." Her voice weak, cracking. It was evident Judy had been awake for hours, maybe even days. She looked at her daughter, still on the hospital bed, and crumpled in the chair.
Her breathing was steady but her heart rate frail. Quiet.
"It's now or never," Finn said in the waiting room at the municipal center. He gestured to the door, expecting Rachel to run to his arms. He chose her, not Quinn. Couldn't she do the same? Why did Quinn even need to be there? There was far too much bad blood. Things would be so much easier if she weren't there, Finn thought silently. They would be better if she were gone.
But Rachel spun away from him, checking her phone. There were no messages from Quinn but she said she was on her way. "She's coming. I know it. Just five more minutes, please?"
"We have to go now."
Rachel turned to Finn with pained eyes. "I can't do it," she said. "Not without Quinn." Her breathing quickened and she turned away from him when he tried to hug her. "I just need some time."
"Wait—" he shouted but she was already gone. He wanted to chase her, but Kurt held him back.
Kurt, more of a brother to Rachel than to Finn, was frowning. "You're rushing things, Finn. Don't pressure her any more than you already have." He spat the words at his stepbrother. "Give her some space, all of you." With that, Kurt turned on his heels and walked out the same door. But he wouldn't give her space. They shared a special bond, he and Rachel.
She was in the bathroom, curled up in the far stall. Her eyes were red, her makeup mussed. She whimpered slightly but Kurt sat down beside her.
"She's coming. I know it, she promised."
"She's not coming, Rachel. You're making a huge mistake and Quinn doesn't want to watch you throw your life away any more than the rest of us," Kurt said. Harsh words but someone needed to say them.
"Do you really think that's what I'm doing, Kurt?" asked Rachel.
Kurt sighed, "We all do."
Rachel leaned into his shoulder, wiping her eyes with her hands. "I can't do this, can I?"
"Not really."
"But this is what I wanted."
"Is it?"
". . . No."
Rachel hadn't been able to sleep that night. She could not fathom why Quinn was ignoring her. The least she could do was text back to say that she was alive, that she received Rachel's texts, calls, emails. But no. Rachel balled up her fists, gritted her teeth, and turned over. But there was a framed photo of Finn. She screamed, hurling it against the wall. How could this happen? How could everything in her life fall apart in just one day? They had won Regionals . . . wasn't that enough?
No. Nothing would ever be enough if it meant compromising her relationship with Quinn.
And Kurt and Mercedes and everyone, she told herself. But she knew that it was Quinn whose affection she craved, whose affirmation she yearned.
Quinn's not in church, Sam noted as he looked around the pews. Judy's not here either. He settled into the third pew from the back and furrowed his brows.
"We have a few announcements to make," said the church elder. "First, we'd like to ask that you pray for Quinn and the Fabray family. Quinn was in a terrible car accident last night and is currently in critical condition . . ."
But Sam didn't hear the rest of what he said. He was dazed, running out of the building. His fingers moved quickly, sending a text to Mr. Schuester. He was dialing the Fabray home line before he even reached the bus stop.
The line went blank. Leave a message after the tone. Beep! "Hey, this is Sam Evans from Glee Club. I just got the news about Quinn. I'm on my way to the hospital now." Sam hung up, his mind moving faster than he could adequately process the news. Who would he call next? The bus wouldn't run for another half hour. Finn? No, of course not. Mercedes? No, they weren't on the best of terms right now. Kurt? Yes, he'd call Kurt.
"Hello, Kurt speaking," Kurt said. He sat in front of the mirror, starting his morning regime. In mere moments, he dropped his facial cleanser and ran upstairs. "Thanks, Sam. Call everyone. Where are you? I'll be there in ten minutes. Bye."
With his phone still in hand, Kurt knocked on his dad's door. He pushed it open, covering his eyes. "Sorry, Dad and Carol. Quinn's in the hospital. I don't know very much but I'm going to pick up Sam and head over. Can you call, tell everyone. Dad, can you pick up Blaine? I have to go." Kurt ran out, pulling on his coat as he threw open the front door. His keys were in the ignition by the time Finn awoke.
"What's all the racket about?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes as Kurt sped off.
"Oh, honey," Carol started, "Quinn's in the hospital."
Burt pulled on a sweatshirt and his trust baseball cap. He gave Carol a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to pick up Blaine."
Finn, dumbfounded, sat on the stairs. His mom put her arms around him as he curled into a ball. "I can't believe it. I and then she. But I thought." His words were incoherent, sentences leaving his mouth half-formed.
"You've gone through a lot this weekend, Finn," said Carol, but he couldn't answer.
Sue Sylvester stood in the corner, eyes narrowed. She had to maintain composure. She couldn't let anyone know she was upset. She had been the first to arrive that morning, long before Sam or any of the Glee Club showed up. She brought Quinn's Cheerios uniform, laying the folded red-and-white uniform on the nightstand. She couldn't stay, not even to make fun of Will's sad Backstreet Boys-era Justin Timberlake hair. Laying a hand on Judy's shoulder, she gave one final fond look toward the young girl who had once reminded Sue Sylvester so much of herself. And, when the first of the Glee Club parasites entered the room, Sue Sylvester left it.
Rachel Berry could not sing.
Everything was in slow motion. Black and white. Silence.
She felt nothing. She couldn't cry. She couldn't yell. Everything was cold but her heart burned.
She couldn't sing.
She tore through the doors of the emergency room.
She could hardly breathe.
She stood in the hallway outside Room 104 for what felt like hours. Her trembling arms hugged her body. Rachel shook her head, This cannot be happening. It was all too surreal.
When she entered the room, everything came back into focus. The beeping of the machines in her ears. The flashing lights in her eyes. Quinn's slow but steady breathing.
"Oh my god, is she okay? What happened?" But the words were foreign to her ears.
Sam sat by the window, his hands clasped and deep in prayer. Kurt sat beside Quinn, Blaine standing near him. Mercedes sat at the foot of the bed. If they weren't already here, the rest of Glee Club was filing in behind Rachel. Everyone except Finn.
But Rachel didn't notice any of this.
"It was a car accident," Kurt said quietly, guiding Rachel to the chair he had just vacated. "She was a few miles away from the chapel." His words, quiet as they were, cut through the thick air.
No.
There were only fifteen minutes left of visiting hours when Finn arrived. He had clearly been crying and it was Carol who ushered him through the doors. Everyone watched him enter . . . Everyone except Rachel, that is. She could not, would not look away from Quinn. Rachel, so often the center of attention, had said nothing all afternoon. It was as though her voice, her passion was drained from her.
Finn hesitated, his hand hovering over her shoulder. But he couldn't, not this time. In front of him were the only two women he had ever loved. In front of him were the two women whose lives he had thrown back and forth for three years. He couldn't bring himself to do that one more time.
He sank to his knees beside Quinn, his head in his hands. Finn Hudson, crying again. Crying over her. How could he have ever thought they would be better off if Quinn were gone? How could he be so foolish?
Turning to Rachel, he choked on his words. "I'm sorry." They rang through the silent room, everyone's eyes on Rachel. Rachel's eyes on Quinn. When she didn't respond, or even acknowledge his presence, Finn dragged himself into the hallway. He sank against the wall. How could this have happened?
Will Schuester followed Finn into the hallway, sitting beside him. He placed a hand on Finn's shoulder with silent camaraderie.
Finn didn't notice when Jesse St. James came barreling down the hallway, out of breath. Finn Hudson let Jesse St. James walk right by him without even seeing the older man. Will let Jesse pass, heaving Finn upward and down the hall. It was time to get him home. Carol was waiting outside.
Glee Club members began to leave when Jesse came in. A few of them glared at him, wondering who had told him, how he had known to come. Kurt raised an eyebrow at the curly-haired fiend, hardly noticing when Blaine tapped his shoulder.
"Ah. Time to go already." Kurt nodded, allowing Jesse to fill in the space behind Rachel's chair.
Jesse laid his hands on Rachel's shoulder. His eyes never left the blonde in the hospital gown.
Sam laid a hand on Quinn's cheek. He turned to Judy, "Blessings, Mrs. Fabray. We'll be praying for you and for Quinn." Judy nodded, hardly noticing as Sam and Mercedes left the room with hushed prayers under their breath.
Artie wheeled Sugar out behind them, Rory tailing behind them. Tina and Mike, solemn, followed. Puck lingered by the door, eyes switching between Quinn and Judy. Brittany and Santana followed, arm in arm.
Visiting hours were over but Rachel wouldn't leave. Slumped over the side of the chair, Rachel held Quinn's hand. She had to live. She had everything to look forward to—all of her future, Yale, everything was still waiting for Quinn Fabray.
"We have to go, Rachel," Jesse said, his hand still on her shoulder.
For the first time, she looked away from Quinn. "No," she hissed at him. "I can't. I . . . You wouldn't understand, Jesse! You don't know what it's like to lose someone you love!"
He sighed, placing a hand on her cheek. "Oh, Rachel Berry, if only you had any idea."
She crumpled into his arms, quiet sobs heaving through her chest. Jesse wrapped his arms around her small frame, picking her up. "We'll be back tomorrow, Mrs. Fabray. Please get some rest." Judy looked up, waved them out, and then went back to holding her daughter's hand.
She fell asleep in his arms that night. Rachel hadn't kept much from Finn but her friendship with Jesse was one secret she had to keep. Jesse understood her in ways Finn could never begin to comprehend. Jesse was the spotlight, Finn was the backstage. And Rachel was the star so how could she ever begin to choose between them?
When her breathing regulated, Jesse released her. He tucked her in, kissing her forehead, before cracking her bedroom door to talk to her fathers.
"I'm worried about her,' Jesse began, surprised by the concern in his voice. "About both of them." He ran a hand through his loose curls, uncertain of what to do next. He wouldn't leave her . . . He hadn't driven five hours on his Vespa to abandon Rachel Berry in the middle of the night. But how could he stay? She'd chosen Finn—and had made that abundantly clear when she chose to accept his marriage proposal—yet something told Jesse to fight for her. That's why he had kept in touch. He distanced himself, tried to be cold, but couldn't help the magnetism she had.
Jesse peered through the crack he had left in her door. "It's like the light is gone from her life."
Over the next few weeks, virtually everyone from McKinley and even the greater Lima area made their way through Quinn's hospital room. There was no more room for flowers or cards, bears, balloons. Judy Fabray, visibly more disheveled than the three weeks prior, had to direct many of these gifts to pediatrics and other wards. Quinn had been moved from the ER and every day, at precisely 3:15, Rachel Berry arrived at room 318.
Every day, at precisely 5:30, Jesse St. James brought dinner for Rachel and Judy. And every day, at precisely 7:45, Jesse St. James took a fatigued Rachel Berry home. Often by carrying her.
He had taken an early vacation from the dance studio he'd been working at in order to provide support to Rachel, Judy, and Quinn. He didn't know how to help in any other way. Rachel rarely spoke to him, let alone anyone else. She didn't sing, she hardly slept . . . The once bright star of McKinley High School began to rust in the wake of Quinn's accident.
Once, he brought Shelby and Beth Corcoran with him. But that had been too hard and, after that one time, Shelby didn't come again. She couldn't come, it was far too painful to watch both Quinn and Rachel in that much pain. She couldn't handle it.
She's not improving, he thought to himself. He couldn't dare utter those words to either of the women in the room. But that night, when leaving, Jesse St. James leaned over to let his lips graze Quinn Fabray's cheek. He had heard the doctors speaking with Judy earlier that afternoon. It was time. Quinn's comatose state was permanent. "Goodbye, starlight, Quinn Fabray."
He stayed with Rachel the whole night.
Her eyes opened, moving around rapidly as though everything she saw was new. A wide smile spread across her lips when she saw the familiar sky blue of her bedroom walls. When she saw Rachel asleep on the floor beside her bed. Smelled the breakfast that Judy was surely preparing downstairs.
She pulled herself up in her seat, sighing. It seemed ages since she'd been home. Yet here she was. But how, she thought to herself, did I get home? The last thing she could remember was texting Rachel.
Rachel.
Had she married Finn? Quinn couldn't remember the ceremony. She could hardly remember driving to the justice of the peace, let alone arriving there. But that had been Rachel's plan and, when the stubborn brunette stuck her mind to it, she always got her way.
Quinn decided she'd let Rachel sleep and got herse—. . . Well, she tried to get herself out of bed but for some strange reason, she couldn't.
And that's when she saw the wheelchair.
Tucked away in the corner of the room, mocking her. Quinn pulled back the covers to reveal slightly mangled legs. She couldn't walk. She couldn't dance. She couldn't move.
She couldn't move. Too many complex emotions filled her. Anger. Sorrow. Denial. "You can't! Don't do it! Don't take her off life support! She's going to wake up, I just know it!" Rachel's words echoed through broken sobs. She pushed everyone away, even the one person to whom she had actually spoken during the past three weeks.
The three of them stood in the hallway outside room 318. Jesse, hands in his pockets, flicked his eyes back and forth between Rachel and Quinn's haggard mother, Judy. Rachel, seething, bit back wild sobs as she shouted at Judy. And Judy took it. She was silent, she was pained, but she allowed the teenager to yell at her.
"I'm sorry, Rachel, but that just isn't true," she said softly. Deep-rooted sorrow kept silent. A mother about to lose her only daughter, a woman with nothing left.
"Tell her she can't," Rachel shouted at Jesse, searching him for some affirmation that she was right. His silence was unnerving. "She can't," Rachel said weakly, dropping to the floor in disbelief.
Rachel stared straight ahead when the doctors came over. "It's time, Mrs. Fabray. Has everyone said their goodbyes to Lucy?"
"Don't call her that," Rachel growled. "Her name's Quinn."
Jesse sank down beside her as Judy glanced at him, searching him for some form of assistance. He nodded slowly, wrapping his arms around Rachel.
"Yes," said Judy Fabray, her voice breaking. "Let me just . . . I'd like another minute with her, please." When the doctors nodded, Judy entered the room again, taking a seat beside her ex-husband who had come for one final vigil. Russell could hardly believe the pain he felt but he had long since given up on his daughter. He didn't deserve to call her that anymore.
But Rachel didn't know what happened next. Her whole body collapsed inward upon itself, quiet whimpers buried in Jesse's chest. He lifted her, nodding farewell to the doctors he had come to know by name. He gave one last look into the room, toward the beautiful blonde once likened to Grace Kelly and the parents who had been lucky to have her.
He would not see Quinn Fabray again.
"So you're awake already, huh?" Rachel said, yawning. She crawled onto Quinn's bed, laying her head in the other girl's lap.
"Good morning to you too, Berry," Quinn let out, surprised at the warmth of her own voice. "It smells like Mom's making breakfast."
A knock rapped at the door.
"Or like breakfast is already here!" Quinn laughed, breathing in the scent of the home-cooked meal. She couldn't remember her last meal but her stomach growled as though it hadn't eaten in days.
"I hope you don't mind, Rachel," Judy began as she carried a tray into the room, "But Quinnie's always been a fan of bacon. I couldn't help but make some for her."
"It's no problem at all, Mrs. Fabray." She just wouldn't eat any, that was all. Who was she to take away Quinn's favorite food? Rachel sat up, shifting to sit beside Quinn. Her eyes devoured Quinn's every move—a smile, the faint laugh lines of her face, the bright blues of her eyes. Rachel took it all in as though she would never again be able to lay her own eyes on the beauty sitting beside her. She leaned her head on Quinn's shoulder, sighing in relief.
Everything would be alright.
But everything was all wrong.
Judy asked that they sing at the funeral but how could she? Rachel Berry truly lost her voice. The best she could manage was a weak croaking sound. The light had gone out of her life and how could she sing?
But no, Jesse just had to go and say that they would perform a song. More specifically Paul McCartney's "Here Today." But she wasn't here today and she wouldn't ever be here again!
Rachel couldn't focus on the piano. Tomorrow. The funeral was tomorrow and Rachel Berry could not sing.
"For you were in my song," Jesse let out softly, coolly.
How could he be so detached from his feelings? From this loss? For Rachel, time had stopped. She was dull without Quinn.
Everything was wrong without Quinn.
In the weeks following her accident, Quinn was bound to a wheelchair. Somehow, through everything that had happened, they became the fabulous foursome: Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry, Artie Abrams, Jesse St. James. And, of course, Kurt and Blaine were always welcome to join them.
Being back at McKinley was so strange. She felt out of place. Sue had offered her a position on the Cheerios again. Mr. Schue had welcomed her back with open arms. The Glee Club should have felt like home. But it all felt wrong. Perhaps it was due to this new perspective, but Quinn had never realized just where she had been in life.
But at home? Surrounded by her three closest friends and her mother? That's what felt like home. Home was where she could be herself—laugh, cry, yell. The whole range of emotions she would feel when coming to terms with this new life of hers. She could be herself at home.
"Quinn?" Judy had been baking in the kitchen. "Quinnie, would you like chocolate chip or sugar cookies today?"
Quinn wheeled herself into the kitchen. "Maybe we can be a little different and try some ginger snaps?" Judy nodded and flipped through her recipes.
"And Mom?" Quinn's voice was bright but with an air of hesitation. "I think I want to go by Lucy again." Her mother dropped the recipe card and, beaming, wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Love you too," Quinn laughed.
"I'm tired of crying myself to sleep every night, Jesse!" Rachel threw sheet music, books, shoes, whatever she could reach at him. "I don't want to go through this pain anymore!" A black gown lay on the bed but she stood at the closet, staring forlornly at the dress as though it marked her doom.
"There's nothing I can do," he said. "Please, Rachel."
Jesse seemed duller, quieter, than he had been in the last few days. Of course Quinn's death wouldn't affect him nearly as much as it did her but the least he could do was allow her to grieve. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?
Rachel noticed when he stopped. She couldn't hear Jesse singing. Did that mean he finally felt some pain at losing Quinn? Rachel spun around with daggers in her eyes but he wasn't there. And that sent her into a brand new wave of tears.
She couldn't lose them both.
Notes: Thanks for making your way through this series of vignettes to reflect what I'd love to see happen after On My Way. I wouldn't kill off Quinn though. She's one of my favorite characters.