-Chapter 2-

Acute lymphoblastic leukemia. The bone marrow tests confirmed what the blood tests had speculated. She'd heard of it on medical shows and read inspirational articles about people who had it but it wasn't supposed to happen to her. She wasn't supposed to have something like this. She was Rachel Berry, strong, independent, resilient. She was supposed to be headed to Julliard or NYU the next fall to major in theater then move on to Broadway. Now her life would rely on poisonous drugs and eventual bone marrow transplants. And the words "twenty to forty percent survival rate" haunted her.

When she was released from the hospital her dads were given the name of a doctor, an oncologist. Dr. Ali was her name. Rachel's first appointment she had blood drawn and things were tested and they scheduled an appointment to have a chest port put in. Exactly three weeks to the day after she collapsed she was sitting in a room with five other people and the nurse was attaching tubes from the bags of medicine to the tubes sticking out of her chest and the chemotherapy started coursing through her veins. It would happen six hours a day, three times a week.

She quit glee and opted to start home schooling. She wouldn't be able to keep up with the demands and she was going to lose her hair and lose weight and look absolutely hideous and she was convinced that no one wanted to see that. She was determined though. She was determined that she was going to graduate high school and go on to college and Broadway. Mr. Schuester came after glee club practice to tutor her on days she didn't spend in the doctor's office. He told her about glee club and how everyone missed her. The optimism lasted thirteen days. When a handful of her beautiful brunette locks came out in her hairbrush one morning, that was it.

Her Daddy cleared out his study on the ground floor of the house and they converted it into a bedroom so she wouldn't have to go up and down the stairs anymore. She tried to do homework but most of the time she was too tired. Her hair was gone. She could feel her ribs. She became increasingly agitated with everyone and everything and finally just gave up. She hated the world. She hated God. She hated her doctors. She hated school. She hated everything.

"Rachel? There's someone here to see you," her Daddy said. It had been three weeks. Nine treatments. Sixteen nosebleeds. A countless number of uses of pink buckets.

"Tell Mr. Schue I'm not in the mood today."

"Rachel?" Quinn's voice came from the doorway.

Rachel pulled the blankets up over her head. "Go away, Quinn."

The bed sank and Quinn tugged at the blankets. "Rachel, please."

"I didn't ask you to come here."

"I didn't ask your permission to come."

"You're going to make me sick. You're infested with germs from school."

"I kept a sealed plastic bag of spare, clean clothes in my car. I showered and changed in your bathroom. Now come on. Let's talk."

Rachel only held the blankets tighter over her head but her weak muscles lost the battle and Quinn pulled them away. She kept her back turned away from Quinn. The slender fingers that touched her shoulder were soft and warm.

"Leave. Just leave, Quinn. I don't need or want you here."

"I want to be here. Please look at me, Rachel."

"Listen, I know that we've been forced to become acquaintances and possibly even friendly because of the passed few years but you don't have to pretend anymore, okay? I know you're only here to gawk at me."

"Rachel that's not why I'm here. I'm here because I am your friend and Mr. Schue said you've been pretty down."

"Why…"

"He only told me. And before you ask, he didn't tell me to come here. I'm here because I want to be here."

Rachel finally rolled over. She looked up at Quinn and the blonde smiled.

"Just go. Please, Quinn. Just…just go."

Quinn sighed. "Fine. But I'm coming back tomorrow and every day after that."

Rachel scoffed. Quinn left.

Rachel sat in the chemo room with her pink bucket and her iPod. Her Dad sat with her and read his book. Right at four fifteen she looked up to see Quinn cautiously walking across the floor wearing a surgical mask, pink scrubs, and shoe covers. Rachel pulled the buds out of her ears.

"Quinn, I told you…"

"No, I told you. I'm going to be here every day whether you like it or not."

"I'm going to go get some fresh air," Rachel's dad said. "Have a seat, Quinn."

Rachel growled. Quinn sat down and slid her hand over Rachel's.

"You should go. Trust me, in about four minutes you're not going to want to be here." Rachel picked up the pink bucket and shook it a little.

"I can handle it. Santana's puked on me dozens of times when I've had to pick her up from parties. How's your blood count?"

Rachel shrugged. "Haven't heard anything yet. Last time they were normal. Normal for someone having poison pumped through their veins, that is."

"I've been doing some research and I…"

"Save it, Quinn. I've read all the articles and looked at all of the websites. Do you honestly think I would go into this completely unprepared?"

Quinn chuckled. "Of course not, you're Rachel Berry. I should've known you would have already researched the hell out of this."

"You should," Rachel took a deep breath. "You should…go…"

Rachel leaned her head back and took a few more deep breaths. Quinn held tight onto Rachel's hand and traced her thumb over the back of it. Right on time a nurse came over with a cold washcloth and Quinn draped it over the back of Rachel's neck while the girl heaved. She rubbed Rachel's back until Rachel was finished then she took the bucket and handed it off to the nurse and it was replaced with a new one. Quinn ran the cool washcloth over Rachel's face when she leaned back into the recliner.

"Gum? I've got spearmint, doublemint, and cinnamon."

"Spearmint."

Quinn pulled a stick out of her scrubs pocket and Rachel gladly accepted it.

"Why are you here, Quinn?"

"Because I care about you. You know as well as I do that we're more than acquaintances. We're friends. And I want to be here for my friend."

"Why would I want you to be the one that cares about me?"

"Because Finn is kind of dull-normal and doesn't know how to handle emotions. Puck, surprisingly, has a very weak stomach. And do you really want Santana to be here? Hm?"

Rachel let a small giggle and Quinn smiled.

"And Brit is afraid that she'll hurt you. The girl is like sunshine but I'm not sure if she'd know what to do."

Rachel kept smiling.

"And…" Quinn took a deep breath. "And I care about you a lot, Rachel. Part of it is a little bit of guilt for how I treated you but…I really, honestly care about you. I want to be here for you."

Rachel's smile dropped as a contemplative look washed over her face. "I don't want you here," she finally said. "I'm sorry but I just don't want anyone around."

"Okay," Quinn said. She stood and smoothed out her scrubs. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Rachel groaned and Quinn left.