Disclaimer: I own nothing from this chapter on wards.


How do you explain love?

It starts with a faltering flutter that touches your heart and makes you vulnerable to everything beautiful.
It grows from day to day from having contact with that other person who understands your needs.
You see beauty where before you'd seen ugliness.
You feel glowing inside, so happy without knowing why.
You appreciated what before you'd ignored.
Your eyes meet with the eyes of the one you love, and you feel reflected in them your own feelings, your own hopes and desires.
You share your life in words before you share your body.
To be in love is like turning on a light in a dark room.
All of a sudden everything becomes bright and visible.
You want this love to stay, to never end.

—Virginia Andrews: Fallen Hearts

•••

December 5th, 2015

A heavy rain was pouring down, and at one point Quinn rose, pressed her face to the cool window and watched the sheets of water whip across the streets below. Her face left a print of forehead, nose and chin on the glass. She was aware that she should be resting in order to recover from the big accident. Her body ached still, even through the morphine, her injuries hadn't completely healed. The first face she had woken to in the hospital, in her suffering, in the glare of the bright light, was Rachel. On any given night she would dream of horses, endless train journeys, storms. But on this particular night, Rachel pointed to an island in the middle of the ocean. She was luminous, otherworldly, transparent as a ghost.

"Come with me on a boat," she had said. "Across to that island and we'll sing, start a family, migrate some penguins."

As if a dream could prophecy surrender and relief.

Then when she awoke, there was nothing but fear, oceans of it.

It was then that she realized that sleep is the place where a deeper unease can penetrate through sick bone and aching muscle, an unease so fine and lightweight, taking you away from the madness of daylight. When she slept, the sadness is drained and she feels so far removed from the world it's comforting. But there was nothing she can do from the moment she wakes up except to try and make it through the days, hoping to hope that happiness is at the end of the tunnel.

"Rach..." Quinn muttered, sitting beside Rachel's bed. "Please, you have to come back to me. There's so much more we have to do together. I have to teach you how to play video games, ice skating, tennis. You still haven't beaten me in Wii tennis yet, I swear I'll let you win one game," she stroked Rachel's hair and bent down to kiss her forehead. "I love you. You can't leave me."

•••

November 24th, 2015: 6:25 p.m.

The evening sun beat hard on the steaming runway. Quinn looked up from the car and scanned the area for her wife of six months, while simultaneously trying to figure out how to pack their car with enough luggage for their first Thanksgiving weekend with their parents as a married couple and still leave room for the two of them plus both of Brittany and Santana's luggage who was hitching a ride with them once they reached Boston.

"Hey, Rach, are you gonna take all day?" Quinn yelled toward the open door to their apartment.

"Here I am." Rachel announced as she appeared in the doorway. She practically hopped—adorably—down the sidewalk towards Quinn, just like the—adorable—insect her aunt had compared her to all these years ago. Quinn couldn't help but watch as Rachel reached the car.

Rachel wedged the few bags she was carrying into the trunk and said, in a sweet voice—"You complete me,"—out of the blue.

Quinn's eyes sparkled and she noticed Rachel blushing deeply. A tingle traveled through her fingers as she laced it through Rachel's, a tingle of happiness that reached her heart and set it pounding. Rachel tilted her head upwards and captured Quinn's lips, pulling her down into a sea of tenderness. It had only been six months since they've been married, granted, they've been together for four years, but this love was a different kind of love, the soft and gentle kind, comfortable, soothing, like a warm pond in summer.

"Tell me you love me," Rachel said when she pulled away. It wasn't a question, it was a simple statement.

"I love you." Quinn whispered against her lips. Before Quinn could lean in for another kiss, Rachel gasped uncharacteristically still. "We're going to be late."

Quinn rolled her eyes. Rachel had taken approximately five hours to get ready this morning because she had written a five page list of the things that she needed to bring on their weekend trip away and instead of packing the previous days, she had decided to pack on the day they were due to leave. Actually, Quinn shouldn't bring that up because Rachel would argue that it was entirely Quinn's fault she wasn't able to pack sooner due to Quinn's libido and every time Rachel did try to pack, they somehow ended up naked in bed. But hey, Rachel wasn't complaining through her orgasms, so yes, Quinn will bring it up just to tease her wife.

"This coming from the girl who—"

"I know what you're going to say, Quinn," Rachel argued. "It's entirely your fault that we will be tardy to our first Thanksgiving with our parents because you couldn't keep it in your pants."

Quinn blinked several times trying to process the words and decipher an appropriate comeback. Finally, she settled with, "I didn't hear—"

"You complaining." Rachel finished. "Did you want me to complain?"

Quinn was slightly flabbergasted at the question. "No, I like that when we have sex is the only time you're less verbal."

Rachel opened her mouth to speak but Quinn captured her lips with a searing kiss. The sensation of her tongue running across Rachel's lips left her speechless and she heard Rachel moan unconsciously.

"We're going to be late." Quinn smiled at Rachel's flushed expression. She closed the trunk and then opened the passenger door for her, who happily obliged.

As Quinn headed to the other side of the car, she thought for a few moments about the amazing things God has given her over the past few years, most notably a new job and a new wife. She couldn't believe that six months had passed since she and Rachel had been on their honeymoon, enjoying the warm sand and tropical paradise of Hawaii. Now, they were headed off for their Thanksgiving holiday, and Christmas was just around the corner. She looked forward to starting many new traditions with Rachel as they celebrate their first major holiday together.

"Hey, baby, are you gonna take all day?" Rachel tried to be serious, but she couldn't do it for long and soon broke out into a huge smile. They laughed as Quinn slipped into the driver's seat, backed out of the driveway and eased into the holiday traffic.

They had a long trip ahead of them, but it was a relatively easy one. They would have the interstate highways the entire time as they made their way through finally ending in Boston where they would be staying the night at Brittany and Santana's apartment, then head to Lima the following day. Originally, they had planned to leave in the morning in order to get to Boston before dark, but Santana had warned them that Brittany had been away for two weeks on tour with her dance group and neither Quinn nor Rachel wanted to endure in listening to their friends getting their "lady kisses" on as Brittany had once referenced it.

Once they reached the Massachusetts border, Quinn started feeling as if she was coming down with a cold. She tried to ignore it because they had a long way to go, but Rachel was insistent they ought to stop for some medicine. Quinn was in no shape to argue with her—who could ever win an argument against the verbally impeccable Rachel Berry?

"Maybe I should drive for a while?" Rachel suggested. "I don't mind. Then you can lie down in the back seat and get some rest,"

Quinn was beginning to feel truly awful, she was sweating in the winter cold and her face was feverish red. "That would be great," she sighed before adding, "I'll make it up to you."

Rachel flashed Quinn her signature smile and kissed her forehead before Quinn tried to climb onto the back seat, stretched her legs out as best she could to try and get comfortable and waited for the medicine to dissolve in her system.

Just passed eleven in the night, they passed through the last big town before the Massachusetts border. Darkness was falling fast and Rachel turned on the headlights, while Quinn finally got into a somewhat comfortable position and was in the early stages of dozing off with her head at the back of the driver's seat and her legs toward the back of the hatchback. Suddenly, she was jolted awake by a firm yell of, "Watch out!" as the car quickly decelerated and swerved to the left. She rose up just in time to feel the impact thrust into the back of Rachel's seat. Having slid her head off the driver's door, she looked in the driver's side mirror and could see headlights zooming towards them, getting larger and larger and then completely filled the mirror in a split second.

The last thing she heard was Rachel's voice, letting out a bone-chilling scream.

•••

November 25th, 2015

Santana and Brittany drove up to Massachusetts hospital to stay by her side as Rachel's fathers and her mother were on their way to see them. As comforting as they were, everything scared her. She hated the way Rachel slept, the medicinal smell of the hospital corridors, the nurses who scurried in and out of her room with trays of instruments and bottles, the doctors who wouldn't give her a straight answer. Most of all, she felt that it should've been her in Rachel's position. Rachel despised driving. It was the main reason they never bought a car in the four years they've been together and although Rachel's excuse was—"We live in an apartment in the center of New York City, and a five minute walk to the subway. We don't need a car that would ultimately be stalled away at the bottom of the garage and collecting tiny particles of dust, not to mention we would have to pay for the insurance, on top of rent and luxuries"—Quinn knew full well Rachel was apprehensive to driving.

She didn't know when she had drifted into a deep sleep, fretting and tossing, calling out Rachel's name, until an arm shook her and she opened her eyes to see her mother looking down at her. Behind them, she saw Hiram and Leroy Berry beside Rachel's bed, holding her hand, tears falling down their cheeks. Judy took Quinn in her arms soothing her with words of assurance. By this time, she was limp rag, sagging from fear and her tears were constantly streaking no matter how much she wiped her eyes.

"How is she? What did the doctors say?" Hiram asked, not taking his eyes away from Rachel.

"She has a few bruises and swelling," Quinn began. "She's currently in an induced coma to protect her brain and giving it time to heal. She had to get a few stitches because there was a cut to the back of her head."

Hiram and Leroy both moved to hold Quinn in their arms. Quinn felt her chest tighten and deprived of air. When did the room become so tight and crowded?

"I'll go and talk to the doctors and see if we can get her transferred to Lima hospital." Hiram said and kissed Rachel before he left the room.

Quinn's thoughts were all scrambled she hadn't realized what Hiram was saying until he left the room. She was in pain, and exhausted, but most of all she was annoyed that she didn't know the full extent of Rachel's injuries. Piercing through everything else, was the thought that her wife was dead. It wasn't that she wasn't willing to believe that Rachel was dead; she couldn't believe it. She was incapable of accepting the fact that those chocolate eyes were closed forever and she would never see Rachel's bright smile shining up at her. She couldn't believe that the most joyful, most enthusiastic woman she had ever known could be torn from her life so savagely. Her brain simply refused to process the idea that after six months of marriage she was a widower. A widower.

Some time later, Hiram returned to the room with an update on Rachel's status. "I spoke to her doctor and they said they've done all they can. Still, she's hanging in there better than anybody thought she would. The doctor has put in a call for an airlift to Lima."

Quinn didn't acknowledge him and continued to stare at Rachel's lifeless body as she has been for the past few hours. Rachel's head and face were so swollen and bruised that nobody would be able to recognize her. Her lips and ears were blue-black, and the swelling was so bad that her eyelids couldn't close all the way. Her body temperature was unstable, so they had to put her in a thermal wrap. To Quinn, it looked like a body bag.

After a moment, Quinn got off the bed and grabbed a hold of Rachel's hand, even through the heated thermal wrap, Rachel's hand was shockingly cold. "We're gonna get through this, Rach," she said. "We're gonna make it." Quinn smiled but felt the tears coming just the same. "Don't you die on me!" Rachel was wearing an oxygen mask and Quinn could hear her breathing, shallow and tentative. "We're in this forever, remember? We've got a long way to go!"

Judy held Quinn in her arms. "Quinn, please get some rest. Rachel certainly wouldn't be happy when she hears that you stayed awake watching over her all this time."

"What if she dies, mom? What am I going to do if she leaves me?" Quinn managed through sobs.

The tears were prickling in the back of Judy's eyes, but she tried to keep them under control to get through this conversation. "Don't say such nonsense, Quinn! Rachel is a strong woman! She would never let something like this keep her away from you."

•••

November 24th, 2015: 11:33 p.m.

After they were hit, Quinn couldn't remember hearing anything or feeling any immediate pain, but she recalled every sensation of movement that took place from the moment of impact until their car came to a stop. Her face was suddenly jammed between the driver's seat and the side of the car. Then she rolled over to the other side of the car, where her rib cage hit the wheel well. Next, Quinn experienced a momentary floating sensation, a slow-motion twisting and tumbling like the dream sequence in a movie. She saw sparks and thought the car was on fire. Finally, she felt a strange tingling sensation in her back and a moment later everything was still.

For a few seconds, she was too stunned to say anything as her brain started to clear. When she could think again, she didn't think about the chance that she was bruised, bleeding and in pain. She couldn't feel a thing. All she could think of was her wife.

"Rachel!" She screamed. She was answered with silence. "Rachel!" Quinn knew she could still hear, because she recognised the sound of the car engine running. But there was no answer.

She took a few seconds to look around and get her bearings. After a second she realized the car was on its top and she was lying inside on the roof. The sun-roof had been shattered during the long, final skid, and she had made the last part of that one-hundred and six foot trip on broken glass and pavement.

Once again, she screamed for Rachel, and as the sound of her voice died away, she felt something wet on her face. She tried to raise her hand up to her face to feel for injuries and the motion felt dreamlike, as if it were somebody else's hand. The hand itself didn't seem to be hurt, so Quinn figured the blood was somehow coming from a cut on her head. She tried to stop the splotches by holding her hand away from her face, but they kept coming. The blood ran down her arm and started dripping down onto the broken sun-roof.

When she finally looked up, it was a strange sensation to see everything upside down, seatbacks pointing down at her, no windows where they should have been. Quinn's still-muddled mind finally deciphered that the dripping blood wasn't her own.

Overhead, Rachel was suspended upside down by her seat belt. Her arms dangled limp. Her eyes were closed. She didn't move. They weren't more than a couple of feet apart but Quinn couldn't reach her. Since it was almost dark, she couldn't see Rachel clearly enough to tell what sorts of injuries she might have. Quinn's heart began to pound with the dread that Rachel might even be dead.

"Rachel!" Quinn snapped in her hard-nosed voice, hoping to shock Rachel into waking up. Her eyes didn't open, but she stirred a little. Then she let out a long, ragged, sighing breath and was still again.

Quinn feared she had just heard the last breath Rachel would ever take.

Quinn tried calling Rachel's name again and started trying to get out of the car, but she couldn't move and at first she couldn't figure out why. There wasn't anything on top of her or in the way, and she had a clear shot out of the car through the rear window next to her since the glass was completely gone.

After a few moments she realized she had no feeling in her legs.

She was unable to move from the waist down.

•••

November 25th, 2015

The medical flight team got orders to fly Rachel one-hundred and thirty miles to Lima General, they were afraid however, that it would be a wasted trip. It would take a solid hour for the helicopter to get to Dayton, and then another hour before they could get her to Lima General. By then they figured it would likely be too late, Rachel would be dead. But by God's graces, the staff at Lima General took a chance on Rachel, and soon, she was being wheeled out of the emergency room to get ready for the flight.

It was when Rachel's gurney reached the helipad that Quinn realized they had no intention of taking her with them.

"They have to have two medics and a lot of gear to give Rachel any chance of survival," one of the nurses told her. "There's no room for a passenger."

"I'm not a passenger," Quinn argued. "She's my wife!" I'm also a patient with severe injuries of my own, she realized a moment later.

Her argument went unregistered and Santana and Brittany held her back around the waist while she helplessly watched Rachel get carried into the waiting helicopter.

"Hang in there, Rach." She said to no one, and started to sob as she watched the love of her life be rolled up and eased inside the helicopter. She stood there in disbelief as the rhythmic sound of the helicopter overhead motor faded into the distance.

The nurse who had told Quinn that she wasn't able to travel with Rachel in the helicopter turned back to her with sad eyes and said, "Miss, we need to get you back inside. You are in no shape to be standing out here in this freezing weather."

"I need to be with my wife!" She shouted. "Do you not understand how ridiculous it is that I'm here while she's being flown a hundred miles away from me?"

"I'm sorry that the situation couldn't be any different," he pleaded for her to calm down. "But believe me when I say that we have Rachel's best interest. The medics upon the helicopter will do everything they can to keep her alive."

"Quinn," Leroy was by her side with his arm around her shoulders and slowly walked her inside. "We'll take you to Lima General and you can be admitted there for your injuries,"

Understandably, the nurse had heard them and did not agree with Leroy. "We haven't had a chance to examine you clearly for internal injuries. It is not advisable to leave now. By the time you get to Lima, it may be impossible to repair whatever injuries you may have," he paused. "If you leave the hospital now, you may die."

"I don't care," she replied hastily. "If Rachel dies, I don't want to live." She realized a moment later how dramatic that sounded. Something Rachel would no doubt be very proud of if she had heard.

"I believe that if a patient wants to be discharged against medical advise, the hospital is only supposed to release him or her to a relative." Hiram argued the situation. "As you are aware, Quinn's mother is here with her, and assuming Judy will allow her daughter to leave the hospital, you are obligated to let her."

The scruffy haired male nurse gave Judy a questioning but stern look, as if to challenge her. Judy worried her bottom lip between her teeth and looked to Quinn who was shaken beyond belief. Quinn pleaded with her mother silently and a second later, Judy nodded, "Yes." Quinn leaped into her mother's arms and hugged her as best she could manage. "You are to rest when we get to Lima, young lady!" Judy ordered and Quinn couldn't help but laugh at her mother's stern but playful tone.

After all the papers were signed, Santana wrapped Quinn in a blanket, helped get her into the back seat of her car and took off for Lima following the Berrys who was with her mother. Quinn tried various positions in the backseat trying to find one that would allow her to breathe with less pain. Every time she inhaled it felt like her chest was on fire. Looking up through the window, she watched the lights zoom down the interstate.

"Rachel will make it, Q," she heard Santana say. "That short stack has always been a fighter!"

"Besides," Brittany's voice came. "She told me yesterday that she had a story to tell me, and I asked her what it was on the phone but she said that I had to wait until we saw each other. You know how I don't like surprises so I kept begging her but she wouldn't relent so I said to her, do you promise to tell me?, and she said, Yes, of course I do, Brittany. I always keep my promises. So, you see, Q, Rachel will come back because she promised me she'll tell me the story."

Quinn had stopped listening when she heard the word relent. Apparently, Santana felt the same. "B, did you just say relent?"

From Quinn's position at the back, she saw Brittany nodding happily. "Rachel gave me a word of the day calender as a gift for my new job."

"How come I've never seen it at home?"

"Because you're smart, silly. I hid it so I can surprise you with big words."

"You're smart too, baby. Don't ever think that you're not,"

"I'm not super smart like Rachel. I want to out-win her the next time we see each other so she can hear all the big words I've learnt."

"Outdo," Quinn and Santana corrected simultaneously.

"See, even when Rachel's not here, the two of you are correcting me like she does. Her cute little habits have grown on you."

Quinn silently agreed with Brittany, and so did Santana because she remained quiet in her position. They've come a long way from the enemies they once were in high school to a close family. Their friendship has enhanced her happiness and overall well-being during this difficult time, especially since both have ceased Thanksgiving with their families to accompany Quinn.

There wasn't much conversation during the remainder of the trip. Every once in a while Brittany would turn around and ask Quinn, "Are you alright, Q?" With a hopeful smile.

Quinn's internal response was always, No. My wife is dying, and I might be dying too. We've only been married for twenty-six weeks and now it might be all over in a matter of hours. But all Quinn could say was, "I'm doing alright."

By the time they hit the ramp to the interstate, Santana was going one-hundred and ten miles per hour, in and out of freezing rain. And for the third time in twelve hours, Quinn tried to find a comfortable position in the back seat. She was gurgling more with every breath, unable to get enough air into her lungs. Inhaling deeply had gone from painful to impossible. Through it all, there were times when she thought she would never take another breath. The broken ribs had severely damaged her lungs and she felt as if she was slipping away.

When they were five blocks from Lima General, Brittany called the emergency room and told them to be ready for Quinn when they arrived. It had been ten hours since the accident, and she still hadn't received much more than basic first aid. By the time they rounded the last corner and pulled up to the emergency entrance, a crowd was waiting—doctors, nurses... the Berrys and her mom? Quinn could swear she thought their car was only about a mile or two ahead from Santana's, she didn't know when they had time to park the car and wait for her at the hospital.

Someone tried to open the door and Quinn tried to get out of the car on her own. Judy looked at her daughter in concern, and Quinn watched as her expression turned first to shock and then to horror. Then Judy disappeared from her line of vision, crowded out by orderlies and doctors huddling around and trying to help get her out of the car. They were talking to one another and back to her so fast she couldn't understand what was going on.

"Where's Rachel? Is she okay? Where is she?" Quinn shouted above all the noise as loud as she could. It seemed as if no one was listening. "Someone please tell me what's happened to my her!"

All of a sudden, a familiar voice broke through the chaos. "Coming through! Out of the way!" It was Santana, her female knight in shining armor. Santana knew her friend's first priority was to find Rachel, not for the medical staff to take care of her. Quinn soon saw Santana come barreling through the mob, pulling nurses and other staff away as she stood in front of Quinn. "Okay, no one is touching or moving my friend until she gets her answer! What is happening with her wife, damnmit!"

A male doctor who looked to be in his early fifties with a rough beard sighed and said, "She's hanging in there, Quinn. We're still working on her in the ICU."

Quinn felt a relief flood through her as she sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the powers above that is Santana and her fierceness.

Once Santana was out of the way, Quinn was rushed into the emergency room and within minutes physicians and nurses scattered in every direction to carry out their demands. She learnt that due to the knot they had discovered behind her ear, they thought she might have brain swelling and permanent damage.

One of the doctors asked where she felt the most pain. "My back," she answered. "I can hardly move without pains shooting all the way up and down."

While the doctors worked on her, Quinn kept asking Judy how Rachel was doing. During those long and physical agonizing hours the only thing she wanted was for her mother to relieve her emotional and mental agony by telling her that Rachel was going to recover. The admitting physician at Massachusetts had given Rachel a less than one percent chance of recovery, Rachel's only hope was a miracle.

The emergency team set Quinn's broken hand back into place, worked at her ribs, gave her sedative and got her ready to be admitted. Not a second after they had finished working on her, she said, "I want to see Rachel as soon as possible,"

"After you're admitted, you won't be able to go see Rachel." Someone explained.

"Then you're not admitting me!"

"Quinn..." She heard her mother's soft voice in the distance.

The hospital staff tried to argue with her, but she refused to listen, and in the end they complied with her request only if she showed some stability. They warned her about what she was going to see. She was told to prepare for a huge shock when she saw the extent of Rachel's injuries and the vast amount of machines in her room.

What amazed Quinn the most when she saw Rachel was that she hadn't needed surgery, but because she had a brain injury she had every possible life support machine hooked up to her. She was tied down to the table, and she was straining against the straps and flailing around with seizures. Her eyes and lips were still deep purple and there were tubes going into her mouth and nose and others disappearing under the sheets, and there were IV lines going into both arms and one foot. There was a probe called the camino bolt drilled into her head to measure the pressure between the brain and the skull, with wires coming out of her head and connecting to some of the monitors that literally filled the room.

She was sedated and couldn't talk, but Quinn was desperate to receive some kind of communication from her. She got up out of her wheelchair and grabbed a hold of Rachel's hand.

"It's me, baby," she said softly. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Due to the plethora of other, more urgent injuries, she didn't yet know the cool, white hand she held so gingerly was broken. Quinn saw no reaction on Rachel's face as she spoke... but she squeezed.

A flicker of hope flared Quinn's insides. Rachel was still in there. Somewhere under all those wires and tubes she was still alive. While it was seemingly a small thing, Quinn was ecstatic.

•••

November 24th, 2015: 11:52 p.m.

Quinn didn't know how long she had been struggling in her position to try and reach Rachel, but at last she heard another voice, except it wasn't the voice she had hoped to hear. "Give me your hand! I'll help you out!"

She turned to the window and looked straight into the face of a stranger, their very own Good Samaritan.

"I can't move my legs," she shouted back.

"Turn the motor off! This thing could explode any minute."

After a moment of confusion, she realized the man was talking to someone to his left. At the stranger's command, the man reached back in to get to the ignition. "The key's broken off," he said.

"You've got to get it turned off!" The stranger demanded.

After some desperate jiggling and twisting, the ignition switch turned and the engine fell silent.

"Okay, I'm coming in to get you." The man said. Dropping to his stomach, he army crawled through the window beside Quinn. She grabbed him around the shoulders, and he held on to her with one hand while he used the other to help scoot them backward out of the car and over to the grass beside the highway.

The drivers of the other two vehicles involved in the crash had no visible injuries. The same could not be said of Quinn and Rachel. Not only was Quinn in bad shape physically; she was also numb with shock. All she could think about was Rachel trapped inside the twisted-up car a few feet away, looking like she was either bleeding to death or already dead. Her head was caught between the steering wheel and the roof where the top had been crushed during the rollover. Quinn realized that if she'd been driving she would have been killed instantly, because she wouldn't have fit in the space remaining after the impact and her skull would have been crushed.

Within minutes the police and ambulances started arriving. It was obvious that Rachel would have to be cut out of the car, but the EMTs were afraid to wait that long to start treatment. So one of them, crawled inside the car—not mentioning that she had severe claustrophobia—and started giving Rachel IVs and monitoring her vital signs as she was still hanging upside down from the seat belt.

Rachel seemed to drift in and out of consciousness; her pupils alternately constricted and dilated—a classic symptom of severe brain injury.

When they arrived at the emergency room hospital, Quinn was immediately taken to get an X-ray and CT scan. The medical personnel had discovered a big knot behind her left ear that they thought might indicate a skull fracture. When she was finished, Rachel was already being given life-saving treatment in another area of the ER, so Quinn wasn't able see her, but she knew the news wouldn't be good. After all, Quinn had seen her in the crumpled car, and it had taken them more than half an hour to cut her out of it.

Nobody would give her a straight answer about Rachel's condition. How was she doing? Was she going to recover? Was she going to be okay? Quinn later learned that when one of the ambulance technicians heard Rachel was still alive hours after being admitted to the hospital, she refused to believe it. She had never seen anyone survive such massive head trauma.

As soon as Rachel had arrived at the hospital, the medical staff turned all their attention to her, which didn't draw any complaints from Quinn. The ER team had given her some preliminary treatment, but she didn't want to take any sedative or have any other work done until she knew what was happening with Rachel. An hour later when a doctor approached her, his manner was professional and confident, but when she looked in his eyes she could tell he was exhausted. He handed her a little manila envelope.

"Miss Fabray, I'm terribly sorry."

Quinn couldn't formulate a response before the doctor left the room. There was nothing to do but investigate the contents of the envelope. She opened it with her good hand and slid the items out into the broken one, staring down at the wedding ring she had given to Rachel.

When Quinn gave her that ring, she had made a vow to protect her through times of challenge and need. This was definitely a time of both challenge and need, but she felt helpless.

•••

November 28th, 2015

Cool nights came and went; long days that were full and mostly sad. If only. If only were the words that started off her mornings and finished off her nights. If only she could re-live that moment all over again, then perhaps she could've saved Rachel. If only she had taken better care of herself, then they wouldn't have stopped for medicine and Rachel wouldn't have felt the need to offer to drive. If only she had sat in the passenger seat rather than the back, then perhaps she could've held Rachel back during the moment of impact.

Everything that mattered to her was breathing from a tube, strapped to monitors, and being fed through her veins. She was stuck in her own nightmare.

News of Rachel's health and the accident traveled into the media and soon there were paparazzi waiting outside the hospital and at one point, Quinn could see a man trying to climb the building in hopes of getting a photo of Rachel lying on her bed, but he failed miserable after trying to climb to the first floor. In the corner of her room were balloons and presents from their friends, Rachel's Broadway friends and her many fans were sending gifts and 'get well' wishes via Twitboomblr—a combination of Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr. It was only a matter of time before the three social networking sites banded together. Quinn had to admit, it did make things more simpler for users. Quinn had checked it several times in the past few days and Rachel had been trending ever since. She screen capped it on her iPhone-10[S] to show Rachel when she woke up.

The doctors spent a lot of time that day explaining Rachel's situation. Quinn learned that there were two major problems, one of which made the other more serious. The first and most dangerous issue was the swelling in her brain. This swelling constricted the flow of blood to her brain cells, and they were starved for the nutrients and oxygen that the blood normally brought in. The second concern was that her blood pressure was dangerously low. Even without any other complications, low pressure would have reduced the blood flow to the organs, especially the brain, eventually resulting in damage due to a lack of oxygen. The bottom line was that swelling plus low blood pressure was a double whammy. Earlier during the week, they had gotten a sign she wasn't paralyzed when she had wiggled her fingers and toes. Still, the doctors said, every minute the brain had insufficient oxygen increased the chances she would have permanent brain damage. The pressure on her brain had gone down for a while, but then it spiked up again without warning. They estimated it would take between twenty-four and forty-eight hours for the swelling to go back down and the oxygen supply to be completely restored. By that time, if she were still alive, Rachel would be in a permanent vegetative state.

Quinn, the Berrys, her mom and everyone else had learned how to read the various monitors in the room, and spent the better part of the next few days watching the numbers go up and down. Mere numbers on a screen were the indicators of life and death, and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do but sit and watch them change, hoping they would move in the right direction.

•••

The highway patrolman's report said that at approximately 11:30 p.m. on November 24, 2015, 5.7 miles east of the Massachusetts state line, a white Ford Escort was involved in a collision with two trucks. Later investigations revealed that a red flatbed truck with a load of car parts had started having engine trouble as it traveled. As a result, the driver slowed to about twenty-five miles per hour in the right lane. Travelling at a normal interstate speed, Rachel came up behind the truck, which was hidden in a cloud of black smoke produced by a defective fuel filter. During the day, the smoke would have been visible, but as night had fallen, Rachel had been unable to see it from a distance.

Though the flatbed's emergency flashers weren't on, Rachel eventually saw slow-moving taillights loom into view through the exhaust cloud, braked hard, and swerved to the left. At the same moment a pickup truck following too close behind their car closed in on them. The right front fender of their Escort clipped the left rear corner of the flatbed. Then as the car started to spin and Rachel struggled for control, the pickup came from behind and rammed into the driver's side of their Ford car. The impact sent their car careening into the air. It sailed thirty feet, slammed back to the ground, rolled one and a half times, then slid upside down for one hundred and six feet and stopped on the shoulder of the road.

•••

December 1st, 2015

Quinn felt so far removed from everything that sometimes she had no tears left to express her fears. There was a chasm between where she is and the world. The world where she moves her feet through, the atmosphere she breathes feels thick and painful, like a swamp. And she's wading through that swamp that her body has become. Her head throbbed. The room felt stuffy. Her eyes were puffy. Her internal injuries made it hard for her to move on a daily basis. But she had to ignore everything and try to find sleep, pray that Rachel will wake up. Still, she found it impossible to live in hope and think about the future when she can hardly think about the present.

Over the next few days Quinn did her best to rest up and get some of her own strength back. She couldn't yet stand up straight due to the injuries to her ribs and back, but several times a day she would slowly make her way to Rachel's room. Rachel continued to remain stable, and five days after the accident, she was moved from the ICU to acute care and taken off life support.

When she saw Rachel's fathers talking to her doctor, she ran to the room in quick speed, startling the men. "What happened? Is she okay?"

"Quinn, sweetie, you shouldn't be out of bed," Hiram led her over to the chair. "You're still recovering."

Quinn ignored him. "What happened?"

"We've done all we can," the doctor gave Quinn a sympathetic expression. "She's hanging in there better than anyone thought she would. She's strong and she's in excellent physical condition."

The door that had seemed shut and sealed only thirty seconds ago had miraculously opened a crack.

"When will she recover?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that. Induce comas vary from the severity of the person's injury," he said patiently. "However, the longer a person is in a coma, often, the longer it is for them to recover functions that are lost and regaining consciousness." He sighed and bowed his head. "Recovery may be to full as before functionality, loss of some functionality or great disability."

Quinn began to sink, she felt she was drowning, going under in that same old familiar pool of hopeless despair. She was jerking with sobs and Hiram ran his hands up and down her back. "She will wake up, won't she?"

"Yes,," the doctor answered. "The coma is temporary, to help reduce the swelling of her brain and to also break the constant overwhelming immune strain being exerted in the body."

Leroy was beside Quinn, grabbing a hold of her hand. "She'll survive, she'll get through this."

The doctor went on. "All I can encourage you to do is talk to her about yourselves, try to remind her of what her life is like, the people who love her. She continually remains very responsive. Rachel is definitely still in there."

•••

December 5th, 2015

Rachel was beside her breathing with the help of a tube. Slow, long, deep breaths. She imagines Rachel's soul going in and out: wanting to leave, wanting to come back. Please come back to me, Quinn said to nobody. I need you. We're meant to be together, you can't leave me. And when Rachel's fingers twitch for the first time in two weeks, she felt entirely dislocated from the world.

The doctors weren't as excited as Quinn was by Rachel's response. From their point of view, it was still much more likely that she would die than live. It wasn't long before a few of their friends arrived from Lima to witness her recovery. Like many others, they had spent the agonizing hours of the previous nights crying and praying for a miracle. As is usually the case, the visiting hours in the acute care recovery area were strictly limited. Only immediate family members were supposed to be allowed, and only for thirty minutes at a time.

Even though Rachel was fairly alert on rare occasions, she was technically still in a coma. She slept most of the day, but since the life support tubes had been removed from her throat, there was a possibility that she might talk. Quinn had been desperate for the sound of her voice ever since she had screamed for Rachel in the seconds after the wreck. There had been so many times when she had thought she would never hear it again, never hear her sing, laugh and whine. Quinn had even been having dreams that Rachel was talking to her. Still, it was only a possibility. It had been two weeks and Rachel has yet to open her eyes.

With the doctor's permission, Quinn was feeding Rachel some ice chips. When she touched a small piece to Rachel's lips, she would eat it from Quinn's fingers. Her lips weren't so purple anymore—they were very pale and dry—but Quinn felt their warmth and the whisper of Rachel's breath on her skin. After feeding her a few more chips, Quinn put her face inches from Rachel's.

"I love you, Rach," she said softly.

"I love you, too."

Quinn couldn't believe it! Rachel had not only spoken, but she had said the words she had most wanted to hear. Her Rachel was back. Just hearing those words made her know things would be fine.

Quinn notified the doctors immediately and they began to check her status with their stethoscope for heart and breath sounds and using the slit lamp to check her cornea at the back of the retina. Their answer to Rachel's declaration of love was just a reflexive response. They claimed she likely didn't understand what either of Quinn nor herself was saying; her brain just knew that "I love you too" was the default response to "I love you." From a medical standpoint Quinn knew that was true. But for a woman who was desperate to get her wife back, those words gave her hope. They were yet another step on the road back for them, even though there was still no way to know how fully she would recover.

•••

December 11th, 2015

Three weeks after the accident, slowly, almost in slow motion, Quinn watched her eyelids flutter. They opened and closed a few times, and she wasn't not sure where she is. The color returned to her cheeks. She was beginning to take it all in. Her eyes focused on the light above, then they darted from each person around her: Brittany, Santana, Leroy, Hiram, Judy, Puck, Kurt, Mercedes and then finally, Quinn.

Quinn felt several things at once. She felt relieved because Rachel is going to be okay. She felt her heart ache with so much joy. Above all, she felt the thing that feels like love.

In the rare instances when Rachel's eyes were open, they were frozen in a doll-like stare. She looked at things without any flicker of recognition, and it was obvious she had no idea what was going on. Part of the short-term solution for her recovery ended up being very simple. After wondering about her lack of focus, Leroy and Hiram suddenly realized that she probably couldn't see well. Rachel was partially blind and may need her reading glasses for the time being until she was recovering more sufficiently. Once they did put them on her, the difference was immediate. She was a lot more aware of her surroundings during the moments she was awake. The first thing she focused on was a plate of Jell-O across the room, and it caused her to become more animated than she had been up to that point. Quinn was overjoyed when she began to focus more on her when Quinn talked to her. It was a tiny victory that moved them closer to the day when she would have her Rachel back.

Rachel soon started sitting up, then standing, then taking a few shuffling steps across the room and back with an attendant on both sides of her. However, even with the help, she was barely able to lift her feet off the floor. Her right foot was dragging and her wrist was curled up. It was obvious she had neurological damage. It was difficult to watch such an accomplished dancer struggle so much just to put one foot in front of the other. But the fact that she could move at all was a sign that she would likely regain her balance and coordination enough so that she could walk on her own again one day. She knew how to walk; she just wasn't strong enough to do it yet.

It wasn't long before she was allowed to eat pudding and other soft foods. As she was unable to feed herself at that point, Quinn or Rachel's fathers would feed her while she sat propped up in the bed.

Sometimes she would look at Quinn or at the food, but much of the time she simply stared straight ahead at the wall.

Quinn's broken bones were on the mend, and according to the surgeons amazingly enough, in a few months no one would be able to tell she had ever injured them. But her back was another story. She was in constant pain. Though the cuts from the sun-roof glass were healing, she had searing nerve pains shooting up and down her spine. She never knew when they would come or how long they would last.

Once Rachel was on the road to recovery, Judy encouraged Quinn to turn a little bit of her focus to filing insurance claims and organizing the medical paperwork that was already starting to stack up. During their first days at the hospital, when Rachel was still in a coma, Quinn had gotten a call from one of the emergency equipment providers. Much to her dismay, they already wanted to know when they might expect their check. She hadn't realized the financial pressure would begin so soon.

In the midst of all the stress and uncertainty, Quinn was beginning to wonder if she could keep it all together. Rachel had an unknown level of brain damage, she was in a state of constant pain and worry, and she was already being pressured to start paying the astronomical medical bills. How was she going to cope? At times she would momentarily forget about the enormity of the situation while she remembered the few happy moments or funny things that had happened over the past three weeks. But then she would start thinking of Rachel lying in the dark in her hospital bed, taking one slow breath after another. Would one of those breaths be her last?

•••

December 19th, 2015

After only a short time in therapy, Rachel was obviously improving. Each morning she seemed stronger, more alert, and more talkative. The disturbing stare was nearly gone and she was beginning to interact more naturally in conversations. The therapists were still being very careful with her, though. They had her move slowly, walk with a harness, and work simple puzzles. Once she could understand conversations and answer questions, the doctors started assessing her memory and other mental skills. At first she sounded like a little girl when she responded to questions. She would speak in a few one and two syllable words after long pauses. She had to concentrate hard on what she would say, shaping the words slowly and carefully as though they felt unfamiliar. Yet she improved every day.

The therapist suggested Rachel keep a journal and jot down anything she could remember. She slowly and painstakingly dictated the words while Hiram wrote them down. "Life is very good. Therapy is very confusing at times, but my Dads are here to support me as they always do and I love them all the more. I can't wait to emerge from the contents of this room and enjoy one of daddy's home cooked meals."

It wasn't long after that Quinn sat with Rachel, who was talking with a therapist that was probing carefully for what she could remember. Her words, my Dads are here to support me, as they always do, had been the first sign that things were slowly moving towards normal. The use of her extensive vocabulary in that short sentence was also another good sign. Now, Quinn was ready for even bigger proof. She wanted her Rachel back.

"Rachel," her therapist began in a soothing voice, "Do you know where you are?"

Rachel thought for a minute before replying, "Lima General."

"That's right, Rachel. Do you know what year it is?"

"2010."

Well, that was the year we first won Regionals, Quinn thought, somewhat frantically. That's just a little setback—nothing to really worry about. She's probably still excited about that, Quinn tried to convince herself.

"Who's the president, Rachel?"

"Barack Obama."

Well, he was the president in that year, she justified.

"Rachel, what's your mother's name?" The therapist continued.

"Shelby Corcoran." She said with no hesitation and no expression.

Now we're getting somewhere. Thank you, God!

"Excellent, Rachel. And what are your fathers' name?"

"Hiram and Leroy Berry."

"That's right. Very good." He paused before continuing, "Rachel, who's your wife?"

Rachel looked at Quinn with eyes void of expression. She looked back at the therapist without answering.

"Rachel, who's your wife?"

Rachel looked at Quinn again and back at the therapist. Quinn was sure everyone could hear her heart thudding as she waited for Rachel's answer in silence and desperation.

"My—my wife?"

No! God, please!

"Yes, Rachel, your wife."

"But—" She protested. "I'm not gay! Just because I have two gay fathers does not mean I am the stereotypical daughter."

The therapist tried again. "Rachel, you're married."

She wrinkled her brow. "To Finn?" She questioned.

Finn? That frankenteen with the constant dopey expression on his face! Quinn couldn't believe what she was hearing. Rachel was playing a prank on her, this was her revenge for making her drive that car when Quinn knew well that Rachel despised driving.

"Rach, this isn't funny," Quinn was desperate.

"I'm not laughing." She answered bluntly.

"Rachel, please think. You're married now. Who are you married to?" The therapist said patiently.

"If it's not Finn, then I don't know who else I could possibly be married to."