"Is it fucking done, yet?"

It's the second week in April of her senior year and Rachel finds herself in her bathroom with Santana Lopez sitting impatiently on the petite diva's bed.

She can't really explain how she ended up being friends with Santana. She knows when it happened but not really how. It happened in the beginning of November. Brittany and Artie had gotten back together and Rachel had found Santana in the bathroom. The Latina tried to pretend she hadn't been crying but Rachel knew she was.

And she wasn't sure why she told Santana that she knew that the Latina was in love with Brittany but she had. She told her that she knew and that she was sorry she was hurting. And then before Santana had the chance to threaten her Rachel assured her she wouldn't tell anyone.

And honestly the smaller girl thought that would be all there was to it. but some freshman Cheerio had gone up to Rachel in the hall the next day and halfway through the girl's rant Santana had gone up to Rachel and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hugged her to her side and said in her most vicious tone, "You fuck with Berry and you fuck with me, got it?"

And that's how ever since that day she had somehow managed to become friends with Santana. When Mercedes and Kurt asked her about it she couldn't explain it. She could only accept it and appreciate it. Because having someone as tough as Santana on her side really helped.

So that's how Santana Lopez ended up sitting on her bed rather impatiently flipping through a magazine. "Seriously, B, is that shit done yet?"

"Yeah." Sitting on the edge of her bathtub Rachel swallows hard, nods her head even while she knows the other girl can't see her.

"Well? What's the verdict?"

Standing up numbly Rachel makes her way out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, the tiny plastic strip in her hand. "Positive."

"Well, shit. Here we go again. Puckerman's got some fucking super sperm or something."

"This isn't funny, Santana."

"I'm not laughing." Tossing the magazine to the side as though it were forgotten the Latina crossed her legs, arched one of her perfectly kept eyebrows at the shorter girl. "So, you're gonna tell him, right?"

"I…I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Not like he's not gonna know when you pop."

"I don't know what I'm going to do yet."

For a little while Santana just sits there and looks at Rachel, studies her and then shrugs her shoulders. "Yeah, well, better decide for the kid does it for you, got it?"

Being friends with Santana is fine. But Rachel hates when she's right.

Puck has no idea what he did. He legitimately has no idea what he fucking did but for some reason Rachel isn't talking to him. And it's not just that she's not talking to him. It's more than that. She's fucking ignoring him.

Now, Rachel? Yeah, she doesn't ignore people unless they really fucked up so he's trying to figure out for the life of him why his fucking girlfriend is ignoring him, why she plopped her ass down next to Santana as soon as she walked into the music room and didn't even fucking look at him.

He had seriously called her about a hundred times in the last month- okay, so maybe he was exaggerating but he had seriously called her a stupid amount of times to try to talk to her but she just flat-out wasn't answering her phone. It's starting to really freak him out.

And then the bell rings and she grabs her backpack and rushes out of the room like Sylvester is going after her hair with a blowtorch and his jaw ticks as he grabs his bag and heads out after her. What the serious fuck? If he fucking did something he'd understand her running off like that but he didn't do a fucking thing. Or he can't remember doing anything that would piss her off badly enough to ignore him.

But whatever. He's going to find out what he did wrong no matter what so that's why he nudges his way through the other members of the glee club, why he ignores Santana when she's calling his name. Fuck that. Normally he'd stop and talk to her but at the moment he's too focused on getting to his girl and finding out why she's ignoring him.

"Berry!" He's halfway down the hall from where Rachel's standing at her locker and even from there he can see her jump. Fuck. What the fuck did he fucking do to make her jump when she hears his voice? Shit is messed up.

"What the fuck?" Stopping next to where she's standing, face hidden behind her locker doo he leans against the one next to her, drops his backpack to the floor. "I've been calling you. A lot."

"I know."

"And?" Lifting up a hand in question he kept it in the air for a moment and then let it slap against his leg.

"I've been busy."

"Busy? Busy? You've been too fucking busy to call me back?"

"I got home late last night. I didn't want to bother you."

"Bother me? Are you kidding me? You didn't want to bother-"

"Step off, Puckerman." Out of nowhere Santana came up next to Rachel and tossed an arm around the smaller girl's shoulders, looked at Puck with both of his eyebrows arched in something akin to annoyance. "Rachel was with me yesterday. Girl talk. You know how it goes."

"Um…no. I don't."

"Well, she was with me and I kept her out late. Give her a break. Got it?"

"What-fucking-ever." Grabbing his backpack off of the floor Puck stormed off down the hall while Santana leaned against the locker and looked at Rachel's profile.

"You know you gotta tell him at some time," the Latina reminds her.

"Not until I decide what I'm going to do."

"Better decide fast. Puckerman's not gonna let you use me as an excuse for long."

Rachel really hates it when Santana is right.

Rachel's been sitting on her bed most of the night to try to decide what she's going to do. It's not the easiest choice to make. Getting pregnant in high school wasn't part of her plan. Her plan didn't include being a mother anytime soon. Of course, her plan didn't include having had sex already. But she definitely wasn't planning on having a baby any time soon.

So once she got home she turned off her phone so that she wouldn't have to come up for excuses not to answer when Noah called and she sat down on her bed and she went over the argument for keeping the baby and for giving it up.

And the only reason she could find to keep the baby in her head was that she cared about Noah, that she cared about him a lot. But her plans, what she wants for the future? They were all on the list that told her that she shouldn't have the baby. She just shouldn't.

That's why at ten o'clock in the evening she picks up her phone and calls Santana, waits until her friend picks up the phone and then she takes a slow, shaky breath, closes her eyes and rests her head back against the headboard. And then, in as strong of a voice as she can muster she says, "I'm going to the clinic on Saturday. I won't have anything to tell Noah after that."

Whoever thought it was a good idea to call Puck on a Saturday morning had to be fucking nuts. On Saturdays he never woke up before noon no matter what so when his phone starts going off he groans loudly and gropes for his phone on the bedside table without even opening his eyes.

Grabbing the phone he keeps the side of his face pressed against the pillow, presses the phone to answer it from memory, holds the phone against his ear. " 'lo?"

"God, you really do fucking sleep all day, don't you?"

It takes Puck a moment to recognize the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone. But his brain is still half asleep. But the voice filters through and he lets out a frustrated groan as he rolls over onto his back, throws his hands over his eyes. "What the fuck do you want, Lopez?"

"Talk to Berry lately."

The thing is that he hasn't and Santana knows that. Ever since he went up to Rachel in the hall and tried to get her to talk to him there'd been this wall up between them. And maybe he had been an asshole to her in the hall but he had just been trying to understand why she was suddenly not talking to him.

But other than that they'd only exchanged one-word salutations of greeting and goodbye while passing in the hallways and what the fuck was that about? It was like she fucking dumped him but neglected to tell him and he wasn't sure how to deal with that shit.

So, Santana calling and basically rubbing salt in that wound? Completely fucked up. It pisses him off that she would do that even though he's not even a little surprised. But he also knows that if Santana is on the phone she's not going to let him off any time in the near future. Bitch can talk a person's ear off when she wants to.

So he finally opens his eyes and squints against the sunlight as he sits up to lean against the headboard. "Fuck you, Lopez."

"Been there, done that," the ex-Cheerio drawls on her end of the line. If he knows Santana at all- and he knows her pretty damn well- she's probably filing her nails or something of the like. She's always doing stupid shit when she's on the phone.

Grabbing his remote off of the bedside table he turns on the TV, starts flipping through the channels to try to find something remotely interesting to watching. "I wasn't offering."

"Good. Wouldn't wanna bruise your ego by turning you down."

Puck rolls his eyes though he tries to fight the smile that wants to spread across his face. Santana is predictable and always has been so he knows that response was the one she would give. "Whatever. Why the hell are you calling me? It's, like, early."

"It's ten thirty."

"Fucking early for me."

"You didn't answer me, dumbass," Santana quips. She lets out a heavy sigh and he hears something clatter onto the end table. His bet is on a nail file. "Have you heard from Berry?"

"You know I didn't," he snaps in an annoyed tone. "Did you ask me that for fucking reason?"

"Sure did."

"You gonna tell me the reason?"

"Sure."

But he knows she's going to tell him in her own sweet time. So he just sits there and flips through the channels, listens to her breathing through the phone. He learned a long time ago that things with Santana could be a waiting game. So he waits. And he waits. And he waits until he can't wait anymore and then he groans and tosses the phone to the foot of his bed. "Fucking tell me why you asked me that."

"Because Berry is somewhere."

"So?"

"She's meeting with a doctor."

"What?" Puck sits up instantly, his heart beating quickly for a moment. He shouldn't be panicking and he knows that but he can't help it. Rachel is seeing a doctor according to Santana and she didn't tell him. And so he's worried about her. What? He fucking adores the girl so why can't he be worried?

"Yup."

"Why is she seeing a fucking doctor?"

Santana sighs on the other end of the line and normally he would think she's just being a bit of a brat but he knows that sigh. It's the sigh that she does when she has to tell her friend something that she knows they're not going to like. Most people think that Santana isn't sensitive enough to worry about hurting a friend but deep down inside of her? There's something very nice inside of her. She just hides it very, very well. She always has and she always will. He knows that.

"Just fucking tell me, Santana."

"Rachel's at the clinic," she tells him in a softer voice than she had been using. "She's going to have an abortion."

"Abortion?" The word made him feel like there was sand in his mouth. "But…Rach isn't even pregnant."

"Um….yeah, she is. Found out a couple of days ago."

"But….why the fuck didn't she tell me?" His heart is beating out of his chest as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up, starts to pace back and forth in front of the foot of it. "Why the fuck didn't she tell me, Santana?"

"Because she wasn't sure what she was going to do."

For a few moments his brain is just completely and totally silent. He can't think at all because Rachel is pregnant. Rachel is pregnant with his baby. She's pregnant with his baby and she's going to have an abortion. Rachel is gonna get rid of his baby. It makes him feel cold. Like, right down to his bone marrow.

"I gotta go," he mumbles into the phone.

"What?"

"I gotta go. I gotta go." Hanging up his phone he tosses it onto his bed and grabs one of his shirts off of the pile on the floor. He just can't let her do that. He can't let her get rid of his baby. He needs to talk to her about the whole thing. It doesn't matter if she's scared. He can sit there with her and talk about that. But he can't let her get rid of his baby.

He pulls his shirt and shoes on in record time and is grabbing his keys and running out the door with his mother's voice calling out to him. He has no idea what his mother's saying but it doesn't really care. Because he has to get to the clinic and stop Rachel so he can talk to her.

He's not even sure how long it takes him to drive there. All he knows is it feels like forever and twenty seconds all rolled up into one. But then he parks at the edge of the parking lot and he's climbing out of his truck, walking towards the clinic door when he sees Rachel there in the parking lot.

She's leaning against her car and her hair is blowing in her face. And she has this look on her face that he can't read and he fucking hates that. She's usually so expressive that it's easy to tell what's going on in her head. So it's kind of scary that he can't tell what she's thinking. But she doesn't really look happy but, shit, if she was happy she wouldn't be at the clinic to get rid of their baby, would she? But still, he hates that she looks so fucking sad while she's standing there.

"Rachel!"

Her head shoots in his direction and her eyes widen as he walks over towards her. And she looks like she might want to crawl into the asphalt beneath her. But whatever. He's not gonna fucking yell at her or hit her or anything. He just stops in front of her and puts his hands on her hips so she can't move, looks down at her face. "Don't do it."

Her dark eyebrows nit together in confusion. "What?"

"Don't get rid of the baby."

Her eyes spark with confusion and she looks anywhere but at him until he presses his forehead against hers, closes his eyes because, fuck, he can't say this and look at her. He knows he can't. "I know you're fucking scared. I'm fucking scared, too. But don't get rid of it."

"I know you didn't plan on a baby. I didn't either. But we can take care of it, y'know? I'll help you. Just…don't get rid of our baby, Rach. Please. Please don't get rid of our baby."

When she doesn't say anything he opens his eyes and she's crying and he feels like shit. He feels like a total asshole and he's not sure why. He could only tell her that he wanted her to keep the baby because if he didn't tell her that would be like lying to her. And he wasn't going to lie to her. But now she's standing there crying and it feels like she just hit him in the stomach.

"Noah…" Her voice comes out in a croak and it makes his throat feel tight. She closes her eyes and shakes her head and then her arms are sliding around his waist. She presses her self against him. His hands slide to her back and he just lets her cry against his chest.

"I couldn't…"

"Couldn't what?"

"Do it," she admits. She lets out a sobbing sound, presses her face against his chest more, her voice becoming muffled. "I went in and I could do it. I couldn't get rid of the baby."

His throat is a little tight as he lifts up one hand and runs it over her hair. "Why not, babe?"

She sniffles and looks up at him. She looks like such a lost little girl that it breaks his heart. "Because it's our baby." She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world and in that moment, for her, it really is. She had thought she could go through with it. She thought she could because it would make her life easier but in the end she hadn't been able to. She couldn't bring herself to get rid of her and Noah's baby.

"So…" He doesn't want to assume things. Just because she couldn't get rid of it that doesn't mean anything. She might have it and give it away. It might be Beth all over again.

"I'm scared, Noah."

"I know. I'm scared, too." It seems silly since he's been there before but he's still scared.

"But…I want the baby." It had taken her name being called while she was in the clinic to realize that she wanted their baby. She wanted to have it. She wanted to keep it and raise it, see who it would look more like, who it would act more like. She wanted to see if it was a boy or a girl. She wanted to sit there and talk about names with him. She just wanted to keep her baby.

"Okay." He swallows heavily because even if he wants the baby it's still scary. It's very scary. The idea of being in charge of a little kid…shit, it scares him half to death. But he wants it, too. He really does. He can't help it.

"You're gonna be here, right? You're gonna help me with the baby?" She looks so scared about what he might say, that he might just walk away from her and the baby.

"I'm not my dad, Rachel," he reminds hers. "I'm not gonna walk away. I'm gonna be right here, babe. Through the whole thing."

She smiles a little, a sad watery smile but she can see a little bit of happiness sparkling in her eyes. And when she leans up and she kisses him he's not so sure how things are gonna turn out. But he said he's gonna be there and he will.

Whatever happens he's gonna be there.