I don't understand why until now I realize that Faberry is my OTP too, I don't know in which world I were living before. Enjoy it and you already know: fav, follow or review, please :)

And then again, English is not my first language.

Don't leave me

Quinn's POV

Just as some people leaving a party before ten o'clock at night, or those who have children before they are eighteen and doesn't know about contraceptive methods, including myself, I don't understand how there are people who want to get married at an age as short like mine.

I mean, it's a marriage! Did Rachel actually believe that everything will be like a dream or playing house? That everything will be just paradise being by Finn's hand while they walk into the sunset together?

I can't imagine a life beside him and being Mrs. Hudson… I can't even think beyond the wedding night, and that could already be considered the biggest breakthrough that could exist in that marriage.

Rachel Berry should marry someone else, someone who knows her vulnerable side, all those reasons that has make her poured lots of dramatic tears, why she has wrote songs, for which she performs every week, without failing, mostly, and for knowing her a lot further.

Does the combination of surnames Berry-Fabray only works good in my imagination? I know it sounds really sappy, but I have often said it aloud, in the mirror, thinking about a huge and beautiful white gown with a long veil and a lush bouquet in my hands, saying my vows to accept being the wife of Rachel Berry.

I bite my lip hard, thinking that all that has been in my head since I saw Rachel approaching Finn two years ago is still present, and I can't believe she hasn't realized how I feel about her .

I know I've been wicked and cruel, seeking for her to be away from Finn at all costs, quite simply because my envious part wants her to be with me forever and ever, as I heard she promises to him. It sickens me to know I'm on the way to their wedding, but as a good 'friend' I have to.

"It's not fair!" I say, banging the steering wheel but focus on the road. I have always considered myself a good driver. "Everything is a farce! She should be with me!"

I bite my lip hard and loose a growl, I settle my hair in the rearview mirror and arrange a little the lipstick that I ruined for doing so. I turn my eyes forward and I run into something else to ruin my day, a stupid tractor that has the bright idea to make me be late, and being honest with myself is not something that bothers me that much.

I move the car to the left, into the other lane comes a few other cars. I move back behind the tractor and receive another message, surely the answer of Rachel. I had to send the first message when I were close, to not feel so much pressure on, but I also had to tell her that I would be there no doubt, even if I've got bile in my mouth when I see her being Mrs. Hudson-Berry.

When the cars finally stop from the lane I move past the tractor from the left, move back to my lane and I step a little throttle, but again comes the thought that I'm approaching to one of the most uncomfortable moments that I have faced, and that's much to say after having a daughter.

I receive another message, and I break my rule of not using cell phones while driving, unless it's a life or death situation. And right now it could be the time when Rachel sent me another message saying that she finally realized her feelings for me and that she left Finn in the altar, ready to start a life and a story by my side.

But I find two messages: 'HURRY' and 'WHERE ARE YOU?'; I alternate my view between the screen of my phone and the road, removing a bit off the throttle. In the next cross there are no other cars, as often happens in this area so remote, I don't understand why I didn't take the highway to get faster.

I finish writing my answer, 'ON MY WAY', and pressed 'Send'. I stay concentrated on the sending a couple of seconds, because the bad reception and my archaic phone have played very bad jokes for months. I have to change it for at least one device of the same century, one of those huge and expensive devices with touch screen, my life would be much easier with one.

I don't understand why she's pressuring me to get arrive, by input she know my displeasure and almost hatred that she's going to get marry, now knowing that she's on me to get there she pushes me to not attend. 'YOU SHOULD THANK THAT I'M ON MY WAY,' that's what I should have typed.

I arrive at the next cross and turn my look to the right, no car is coming. But it's not until I hear crackling glass, metal crushing my legs and the fading of a car horn when I remember that I always have to look to the left at these crossings, that way I'm sure I have seen the car that just hit me.

"I don't want to die, I don't want to die! God, if you're there, don't let me die now!" I say between guttural sounds.

The car skids to the right, the smell of burning rubber and the sound torment my eardrums. My cries are something that only I can hear, I try to maneuver to keep the car from overturning and end up made more of a disaster.

When the car finally stops moving I froze for a moment, tears of terror and despair come out without me being able to control them, the shrieks and groans tear my throat. I try to open the door but it's impossible, is shattered and jammed against the seat, a few pieces of glass are embedded in my dress.

I reach out and try to find my phone, I find it and start typing a message to Rachel, my hands shake and my vision is blurry, the seat belt kept me on the seat, but that didn't stop my head for hitting so many times.

The airbag shoots out the steering wheel, leaving me unconscious because I begin to slowly suffocate. In my struggle to move it away I see a couple of persons parking next to me, hitting the window glass to break it and get me out of here. I don't detect the smell of smoke or gas, fortunately the hit also prevented an explosion.

One last thought comes to my head, the shortness of breath and pain begins to beat me: «I have to get to her wedding», and one final message stays a key to be sent: 'CAR ACCIDENT, I LOVE YOU'.

Rachel's POV

Who haven't heard lots of people talking about the value of objects or people, and how little we care about unless we lose it, that's when we realize how important it was for us and how little importance we always gave to them.

The moment we all started to receive messages from Quinn's mother saying what happened it was like if piles of stones fell on me, each of them hurting me, compressing my throat, blinding me; murdering me slowly and painfully with each coming.

We had to cancel the entire wedding plan, because after that it was impossible for me to keep up, I couldn't begin to think about anything else but in Quinn, beaten and trapped in her car, unconscious. In the worst case scenario I see us at another funeral, with an open casket and with that angelical and so perfect face, stiff and lifeless as everyone cried an incredibly huge loss.

The waiting room of the hospital is full of people, some are her relatives, others are complete strangers, and some others are students from McKinley, even some teachers are trying to comfort her parents, who never cease to mourn and ask when they will take her home.

Finn holds my right hand tightly, his left foot moves forward and the free hand is made a fist. He hasn't stopped looking down and mumbling under his breath about why she would have been so careless.

I bite my nails of the left hand to the roots, I don't stop when they start to bleed nor when they start to hurt, because everything was my fault, it was me who was hurrying and bothering her to come, surely my messages distracted her and that's why she couldn't be aware when the accident occurred.

Brittany and Santana approaches, they were the next ones on the list of visitors today. Brittany is shrouded in tears, ensuring that Quinn will never wake up, but that now she is an angel in heaven with big white wings, who now takes care of us at all times. Santana whispers to the soft words to her ear, she protectively wraps her arms around her and tells her that everything will be fine, because the three of them are best friends and that their strength will make Quinn to get up.

It's been a week since her accident, always that we end a day of classes we run to make the long list of visitors, and today is no exception. It's almost six o'clock, the visitation schedule will be over soon. I don't know in which position Kurt have noted me, but I cross my injured fingers to be the next at any cost. I need to see her.

"Very well" says a robust and bad faced nurse. If she's taking care of Quinn then I can't imagine the kind of treatment that she gets. "The following is the last visit, the doctors say that Miss Fabray is unable to see so many people".

All begins to murmur, some guys from the football team doesn't take long to complain, they say they have spent days and that they haven't even seen a hair of Quinn. No wonder that lots of hormonal guys all have a purpose of the most disgusting ones to see her, but I prefer to not think about it.

"So…" the nurse says, looking down at the clipboard in her right hand. "Rachel Berry".

I release Finn's hand in that moment, the movement slowly returns, it tingles my fingers and I see the color returning to normal.

"Anyone wants me to say something on their behalf?" and I would have liked to not ask that, but I have a tendency to be very nice with people when they don't get in my way to stardom.

Piles of papers with dedications, small flower arrangements, vulgar comments about that she should call a couple of guys on the team, and some words of encouragement from her parents are my errands, but for obvious reasons some of them will not reach her ears.

The nurse escorts me through the long corridors of the hospital, the smell of sterile equipment, latex gloves, alcohol and liquid that is used to embalm corpses makes my stomach turn, if I have eaten something at lunch surely I would have vomited at the time.

"Is she… okay…?" I ask, feeling that my throat compresses with each step. I couldn't see her, mostly for the list, but also because I don't know if I'm ready to face her state.

"She's in good hands, the doctors we have are doing their best…" she rambles a bit and makes a sound with her throat. "She's in an induced coma, they completely wiped the blood on her brain, but they did it for the swelling to go down a bit more…"

"But…?" I ask, and she looks away.

"The hit injured her spine, there isn't a good response from the nerves and that's the part that fully distress to doctors".

"Is she… paralyzed…?" I'm suddenly short of breath.

"We don't know, the vertebrae and the spinal cord are intact, it's just a nerve problem. Perhaps with some physiotherapy she can fully recover".

We stand in front of a wooden door, a small piece of glass let me see a bit from the inside. The nurse opens the door and gives me open way, when I enter she closes it behind me and everything I hold in my hands falls helplessly to the ground.

I walk with trembling steps to her bed, I stay at the feet and look at her very detail. She's there, on the stretcher, like if she were napping, with a cannula in her nose, bruises on both sides of her face, a few small scars adorn parts of her neck. The arms lie on the sides, lots of wires and tubes surrounding her.

Most striking is the fact that she's completely calm, and that only manages me to think the worst.

I move back to the entrance and lift up the gifts, I settle them so that they can be in a presentable manner when she open her eyes… if she do…

I resist my urge to start to cry, I pulled up a chair and took her right hand, a little colder than I can remember, and I don't tend to touch her very occasionally, no without winning her sneer and that look loaded with hatred.

Taking her hand sends a few electrical impulses by my nerves, I feel heat on my cheeks and the urge to mourn for no apparent reason. Until now I notice it, until I'm holding her hand and I see her eyes move a little I can be sure of this: I'm in love with her.

"Hi…" I say, and I don't know what else to say.

I'm dedicated to stroke the back of her hand with my thumb, taking advantage that now I can because when she wake up then we will have to go back to the same old routine, insulting at the expense of the other and fighting for the affections of someone we love quite simply out of selfishness.

I can't go around completely accept my feelings for Quinn, now that they're aimed to have a concise name, and also I'm not sure if she feels the same for me…

But what am I saying, of course she doesn't feel the same for me. She is in love with Finn, a little more than me because they have had more time to meet, but it makes no sense; she has been dedicated to take advantage of the naive and easily fooled he is, and that's not good. Perhaps with me she can learn how to better treat people, and maybe by her side I can also learn a few things.

But first I need her to open her eyes, so I can go back to sleep in peace and stop feeling so horribly guilty.

"Come on Quinn" tears are still soaking her clothes. I reach out my hand and intertwine our fingers. "I know you'll get through this, you're strong, you're the captain of the Cheerios, you brought to the world one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen…"

I stare at the monitor that records her heart and the machine that keeps her breathing, I see the tubes that slide behind the bed and eventually found under her nose, in her arms and parts of his chest. She looks so…

A song comes into my memory, the only song that we were able to sing together in the choir room, that song with which I could finally feel like a pretty girl, for why I could begin to trust myself; when I accepted who I am. And all because of her.

I clear my throat and I begin to remember the song fragments that describe exactly all the feelings I'm experiencing to hold her hand and see her unconscious, between life and death.

My outsides look cool

My insides are blue

Every time I think I'm through

It's because of you

Her eyelids move and I don't know if it's because she's dreaming or some other foreign body reaction to the treatment that they are giving to her. My voice cracks with every word, I never thought it was so difficult to sing with so many mixed feelings and sensations.

I've tried different ways

But it's all the same

At the end of the day

I have myself to blame

Keep on trippin '

I can't, I just simply can't keep singing, hoping that she opens her eyes and that everything remains as before. Things can't go back to the way they were, I can't wait until something like this happen again; and I will not.

"I'm sorry, Quinn…" a little growl of frustration tears my throat, I hit the floor beneath me harder and let my tears continue falling. "I should not insist that you were at the wedding, I should listen to you and wait a couple of years for all of this to happen… and I'm sure that I wouldn't be married to Finn having waited just a little bit…"

Her breathing remains the same, the heartbeat is still rhythmic, and she remains unconscious. Everything is the same, and it's now when I start to lose all hope for a speedy recovery. I know she's not going to wake up, and if you do then she will not be the same as before, and all because of me.

And I pity…

My last words comes out choppy while I watch her again, her eyes stop moving and breathing stays calm completely, with that my heart stops, a pain strikes me in the chest and my throat compresses. It's our song, I can't go on without her

"Stay with me, please…" I whisper, brushing a strand of hair. I wish I could see her beautiful eyes open. "Don't leave me…"

I get up and release her hand, and what I do then doesn't have a name, at least not for me, because she is totally unconscious, full of anesthetics and drugs. But I lean and deposit a simple press of my lips against the corners of hers, the sigh coming out from me almost seems to reflect how much I longed to do that. When I move away the sound of the monitor to which she is connected, which marks her heart rate, increases its frequency.

For a second I panic and I'm about to run to seek for help from a doctor or the nurse. But the fast beeps slowly calm down, the sound returns at a rate that calms my anguish and the guttural sounds of her voice almost make me to fall on my knees right there.

Any girl… who is not me… tonight…

My hand clings to hers, my knees begin to tremble and a squeak comes out of my throat. I move completely to her, I raise her arm without she let me and I see a look of pain on her face.

"Q-Quinn…?" I ask, astonished and about to let myself to cry again.

"Hey, Rachel…" her voice is choppy, it has a kind of purr in it, and she still seems sleepy.

Without hesitation I throw myself on her, I put my arms carelessly around her, my face is sinking into her neck and I feel like I'm about to faint, to land on her body. Even with all the time she has been in bed I can smell the sweet aroma of her body.

How is it possible that she can be awake? She's supposed to be sedated and in a coma, or am I dreaming? But I have in mind that we live in Lima, and it's surprising that they don't cure using witchcraft or any of those things. No doubt they are saying that about the coma to get more money from Quinn's parents. Anyway, she's now awake.

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts…" she hisses, and I lift my head.

"God, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry" I move away immediately, but she doesn't let go of my hand during the time it takes me to sit beside her.

We stay silent for a few minutes, she stares in all directions, like if she were trying to guess where she has been the last couple of long days. I focus on the fact that she hasn't released my hand, and I'm thinking if I should give her the bad news about her legs.

"Quinn?" she turn her head, and I find her green eyes, a little puffy but equally beautiful. "During the accident you…"

"Just tell me if I will be able to walk, because since I woke up I noticed I don't feel anything in my legs. I didn't wanted to upset you putting myself hysterical, but I know you know something about it" I stay out of myself for a moment, but then I look into her eyes.

"They don't know, a nurse told me that with physiotherapy it could be possible that you can".

She nods slightly and put her head back on the pillow, a smile appears on her lips. She whistles and hums to the rhythm of the song, and if it wasn't for the chair then I'm sure I would have gone back, and most likely would be in the same situation as her.

"I didn't think that you remembered the song" she says suddenly, and now I contract my hand. "I mean, it was so long ago, and then I couldn't look at you without feeling the urge to punch you".

"Y-you heard me sing?" she nods again.

"Something like that, at first not, but then something was telling me to open my eyes, that I had to see what was happening at that moment" she lets out a chuckle. "I don't know if it was God, or some other force of that kind, but I can't stop thanking that I did.

I return the smile that's hasn't stopped being present, but I can't stop feeling violently guilty about the fact that she's prostrate in bed, her destiny as a Cheerio hanging by a thread. I will not forgive myself if she doesn't walk again, and I don't think that she can forgive me.

"Quinn, I wanted to apologize for…"

"No" she says, pursing her brows and lips.

"But I…"

"Rachel, no" she glares at me, and I can't help but shrug my shoulders, "this is not your fault, and I don't want you to talk about it again".

I stand on my feet, I approach to her so much that I notice her expression of fear and how her eyes widens, but it's not until I press my lips against her that she relaxes, releasing her shoulders and beginning to slowly close her eyes, I know because her eyelashes caress mine.

I can feel it now, a lot of things and moments that have passed mixed in a here and now, the fact that she accepted me to kiss her, and also in the fact that she's responding to my affection. I mustn't waste any of these opportunities, ever again.

"If I have to… be on the brink of death for you to… finally be with me" she gasps, like me, I didn't think I would be able to take her breath away. She closes her eyes slightly and a beautiful smile adorning her lips, it's a funny contrast compared with the punches in her cheeks, "then I'll try to do it more often…"

I lean again and deposit another kiss on her lips, I stay still long enough to listen to the rhythm of the monitor rushing again, but long enough for her to put her hand on my cheek and that I can finally feel that I breathe in peace.

Because I love her, and she loves me, it's all I need to know now.