Summary: "I can't believe it's true, I keep looking for you. I check my phone and wait to hear from you in the crowded room. The joker is so cruel. And now I'll never know if all I've been told is just a lie." Rachel's life was spinning out of control and then suddenly, one phone call changed everything. Post On My Way

Author's Note: Ahh, I've missed this fandom so much, honestly. Feedback is always appreciated!

Chapter Two

Susan Pease Badnitt once wrote: "Traumatic events, by definition, overwhelm our ability to cope. When the mind becomes flooded with emotion, a circuit breaker is thrown that allows us to survive the experience intact, that is, without becoming psychotic or frying out one of the brain centers. The cost of this blown circuit is emotion frozen within the body. In other words, we often unconsciously stop feeling our trauma partway into it, like a movie that is still going after the sound has been turned off. […]"

She remembers asking her Dad about what happened when she was a little girl and he received the phone call telling him that her Grammie was being rushed to the hospital. Grammie died a few hours after he received that phone call and Leroy was left to explain to a six-year-old why her grandmother would not be coming over for dinner on Friday. It had been a hit and run accident at a local red light—a place that she had been thousands of times. She never understood it when her father told her that he didn't feel anything for a long time. She never understood how he couldn't cry because his heart hurt, and as far as six-year-old Rachel Berry was concerned, that was the worst kind of hurt. She never understood why Daddy Hiram watched over him, arms outstretched, waiting for the moment that he broke down, like how a mother nervously watches her child take their first steps.

She never understood how you could be dead, but still alive.

Until now.

Until she is sitting in a ridiculously uncomfortable plastic chair in Lima Memorial hospital, watching countless doctors, nurses, and patients rush by her. Lima Memorial is a Trauma Two hospital, which Rachel has learned from the pamphlet next to her, means that they have access to twenty-four/seven surgeons and can provide definitive care for all injured patients. She cannot help but wonder if they will all make it—like the man who was rushed through the doors with a gunshot wound to his chest after a carjacking gone wrong, or the woman who was in a horrible accident while out hiking with her friends. She can hear the doctors around her shouting orders, running around, and the cries of people in pain. But she remains quiet…calm… stoic—the opposite of everything that she has came to know about herself.

Her thumb shakily traces the plastic lid of her coffee that tastes like absolute trash. Hospital coffee is always burnt, she is beginning to realize, but it is just enough to keep her going when she feels like she can't take anymore. Her eyes are burning but she is afraid to blink, afraid to look away from those double doors that determine whether people live or die. Her body aches but she dares to not move from her position. No, she is going to be right here when the doctors finally come out and tell her the news that she has been waiting for.

Rachel has finally stopped paying attention to the fact that Santana's hand is rested precariously on the inside of her thigh. If someone would have told her years ago that Santana Lopez, one of Sue Sylvester's chosen ones, would be holding onto her as if it was dear laugh, she would have definitely laughed in their faces. Yet, here they are with Santana holding onto her as if she is the one thing that is keeping her from falling apart and Rachel does not want to experience the coldness of the world that exists on the other side of Santana's hand.

She allows herself to look away from the double doors to study Santana's face for just a moment. She makes a mental note of the puffiness of Santana's eyes, how they are blood shot and ridden with tears that she does not allow to fall. She notices the lines upon her face that tells a story of where the Latina has been and where she is going. She sees how Santana's lips quiver, but she never allows herself to cry—no, not over something like this, not until she absolutely must. Santana quietly looks over towards her and she forces her lips to turn in an upward smile, but Rachel knows that it is not genuine. Gently, Santana's hand on the inside of her thigh gives the world's most comforting squeeze, and without knowing why, Rachel allows her hand to sit quietly on top of the Latina's.

On the other side of Rachel, Kurt Hummel nervously bounces the foot of his crossed leg. He is ridden with exhaustion nearly as much as the girls and he keep rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. He hates hospitals! Nothing good ever comes out of them, he groans, cracking his neck slightly, they had taken his mother and nearly took his father as well. He studies Rachel who stares blankly into nothing and his heart twists inside of his throat at the mere sight of her. This certainly is not how this day was supposed to turn out—right now, she was supposed to be the wife of his stepbrother, or something stupid like that. To say that he supported the wedding would certainly be a stretch—sure, he wanted his brother to be happy, but if he had to be entirely honest, he was not convinced that Rachel Berry is the happiness that he so desperately is searching for. Rachel had been his number one since day one and he did not want to see anyone come in the way of that. But he certainly has never seen her in this kind of pain before, not even when she couldn't hit those notes just right. He's never seen Rachel just not be…well, Rachel. Without thinking about it, he cautiously wraps his arm around her back, his hand squeezing her shoulder, but she does not even blink at the contact.

Will Schuester is standing across the room from his three kids, his foot propped up against the wall to support his weight as his arms are crossed across his chest. He cannot help but look at all three of these kids: all three so entirely different from one another and yet, somehow, each keeping the other up. The back of his throat is on fire from the sobbing that came from him once he was alone in the men's restroom. This should have never happened. He should have never been the one who received that phone call asking if he knew one Ms. Quinn Fabray, and getting specifics of the accident. He should have never forgotten how to breathe and been haunted by his last conversation with Quinn when he stared into the eyes of Rachel Berry and told her exactly why her… her Quinn had not showed up for her wedding.

"Rachel." It's Santana who finally breaks the silence between the friends and Kurt is honestly so relived that the phantom, eerily quiet can no longer haunt them. Rachel's lips are moving softly, almost unnoticeable truly, but no sound ever escapes her, and Santana can't help but wonder if it ever truly can. Her fingers wrap tighter around her leg and she can feel Rachel's fingers slowly begin to intertwine with her own. Santana bites her bottom lip harshly, looking up at Mr. Schue who only stares back at her with the same kind of sadness they all are experiencing.

"Hey, it's… it's going to be okay." Santana whispers with a squeeze and Rachel's deep brown eyes finally move from the door to find the Latina's own and that is when Santana sees it. She can see the break written within those swirls and she swears that she can almost watch every moment the two of them experience flash in front of her eyes.

"And I know what you're going to say. You are going to tell me that I could not possibly know that. You are going to tell me that just because my father is a Trauma surgeon here does not privy me to the knowledge of what is going on. And you're right. I…I don't know if everything is going to be okay," Santana swallows, her voice shaking as she watches the tears fill in Rachel's eyes once more. She ducks her head as she squeezes her own eyes shut before she inhales another shaky breath to continue.

"But I do know Quinn. I have known her for most of our lives and I know that this isn't how she is going to go out. This isn't where her song ends, and this is not the last page of her book. I know Quinn and I know that she was strong enough to have a baby at sixteen, with no support hardly from any of her friends, or Finn and Puck. I know that she was strong enough to forgive you for telling everyone about her," Santana states and she watches the hurt flicker in Rachel's eyes before she squeezes her leg in reassurance and forces a small smile, "and I know that she was strong enough to forgive you for all of that and love you regardless. She wants you to be happy, Berry. For some God forsaken reason that even I don't understand, you're the one that she always comes back to. So, if nothing else, everything is going to be okay, even if it isn't, because she wouldn't want to ruin your happiness." A few tears spill from Rachel's eyes as she returns her attention back to the door and Santana swears that she can hear the hiccup of a cry in the back of the brunette's throat.

"I don't know how I got here," Rachel finally croaks out and Santana swears that she has never heard her voice so raspy in her entire life. The brunette shakes her head softly, biting her bottom lip as she looks around at the people who surround her…the people who love her unconditionally. Slowly, she pushes Santana's hand from her leg as she forces herself to stand, one hand forcefully going through her hair as she begins to pace.

"One second, I'm at the courthouse and I'm about to get married. I'm about to get married to the boy that I have loved for my entire high school career. I'm seconds away, really and then suddenly, I get a text a-a-and…. a-a-and Mr. Schue gets a phone call. Next thing I know, I'm here on my wedding night and I can't… I can't feel anything, and I don't know what's going on. I don't even know if she's…" Rachel pinches the bridge of her nose as a cry escapes from within her, but nobody dares to move towards her, "this can't be happening right now. This is our Senior Year. This is our year to get it right. She got into Yale and now she's…" The next thing Rachel knows, Santana's arms are around her, pulling her tight into her but she can't.

She can't do this.

Her mind is racing, spinning in circles really. Every time that she closes her eyes, she can see those golden strands and the way that those emerald eyes sparkled against the lights that night. All she can see is the smile on her face when she told her about getting into Yale, and all the diverse ways that she pulled at her heart strings when she told her that she just couldn't marry Finn. All she can see is all those signs that she missed that they had simply be inevitable, even when slushies were being poured into her face and the blonde was left crying in the girl's bathroom. They had been friends, but they were also a lot more than that.

All she can hear is Quinn's voice harmonizing in her ears when they sang I Feel Pretty/Unpretty. All she can hear is how beautiful her name sound coming from her lips each time that she chose to not call her by one of those ridiculous names. All she can hear is the way that her voice shook when she told her that she didn't belong here, and she couldn't hate her for sending her on her way. All she could hear was the heartbreak in her voice when she asked if she had been singing that song to Finn and only to Finn, right?

All she can feel is how perfect Quinn's face felt in her hands that night in which she wiped those tears from her cheek in the girl's bathroom. She can feel the blonde's breath on her face as she told her that she wanted to thank her for not letting her make one of the biggest mistakes of her whole life. All she can feel is the way that Quinn trembled beneath her when she hugged her after Regionals.

She is everywhere and nowhere all the same time. She is in every single sense that Rachel Berry can muster. She's overwhelming and yet she's nowhere to be seen at the same time.

Everything is Quinn and it hurts.

Rachel can't breathe like this. She can't think—her mind is racing, spinning in circles, flooded of images and realities that are too harsh to even consider. Her mouth is cry and the tears are falling, and she's numb except for the part of her that feels like it's twisted up and aching. Santana's hands are moving up her back and she is whispering in her ear and it's just too much. It's too much. Stumbling, she pushes herself out of Santana's arms, shaking her head as the tears burn within her eyes and all she can see is white.

"S-stop. Stop. Just stop!" Rachel practically bellows, thrusting her hands forward to gesture the three to stay away. Santana shakes her head with an arched eyebrow, but Rachel stands firm, biting her bottom lip until it bleeds and the most heart wrenching sob escapes from within her, "don't you get it? This is my fault. It's… it's all my fault."

"Oh, Rachel, honey, no," It's Kurt. At least, she thinks that it might be Kurt because honestly, she cannot really hear anything that is not the racing of her own heart inside of head. Her hands are trembling as she takes another step backward, Santana's eyes never quite leaving her own and she wonders if this is what it is like to have a true breakdown. The nausea makes the bile rise in her throat and God, her mouth is so dry.

"N-No. No. No. Don't do that. Don't do… that," Rachel gestures between the two of them with a hiccup, "don't do that thing where you pity me and feel sorry for me. I'm not… I'm not a doll or a broken plaything. This…this is all my fault. My fault!" She slaps her hand against her chest as a cry escapes from her bruised lips and she notices Santana share a glance with Mr. Schue, but she can't bring herself to care about the scene that is unfolding with her.

"Quinn is… she's… it was my text. She was answering me! It was… it was my s-s-stupid wedding that she was…" She's crying and God, she can't stop and all she wants to do is stop, "she didn't even tell me. She told you!" She points at Santana with a sharp break in her voice, "but she never…. she never told me. After everything we've been through…. After Shelby and Finn, she never told me. She let me…. She let me do this and she never…." Her voice is breaking, hoarser and hoarser with every cry. "And now she's… she's laying in there and she's going to… and it's all my fault. I did this to her. I did this, and she doesn't know that I… Santana." She is crumbling and before she knows it, Santana's arms are around her so tightly, as if to put her all back together again. She holds her just like Quinn has so many times before, but this time it's different in the saddest of ways.

It's Santana's hands that moving gently across her back and it's just enough to keep her fixated in the reality that is her world. She and Santana are tethered together in the world's saddest stories of could have been, should have been's. They are connected through the love of Quinn Fabray and Rachel just wants to keep her from slipping from her grasp. Her fingers grasp tightly at Santana's shirt, wrinkling the fabric beneath her as she cries so sadly. She knows the minutes that pass by must be some of the longest of her life as her body trembles against Santana's and she feels the familiar tremble against her. She knows that Kurt's hand is on the back of her head, placing a gentle kiss upon her head, but she just cannot stop. She needs Quinn, but right now, Santana's a pretty good makeshift.

"Rach, are you okay?" A voice calls out and instantly, Rachel can feel Santana tense against their embrace. She steps aside for a moment, looking across the room to find Finn Hudson in a pair of baggy jeans and a red sweatshirt over him. He's alone, and his face is etched with hurt and worry just like the rest of them. She had not even thought to call him when she got the news—thirty minutes prior, she had planned on him being her husband, and when the worst thing imaginable happens, he is the last person on her mind.

"What in the hell do you think you are doing here?" Santana snaps bitterly, her eyes squinting towards him in disgust and the poison in her voice could not be mistaken for anything else. Finn shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he looks down at the floor, but not before his eyes fixate upon Rachel's once more.

"I called him," Kurt states with a gentle wave of his hand and Rachel can't bring herself to look at the quarterback across from her. Not because she is saddened, but because the guilt nearly eats her up inside, along with the flashes of anger that have her tongue twisting in knots.

"You can't be serious!" Santana practically bellows and something inside of Rachel just seems to snap entirely. She watches as Kurt's hand finds it's way to the crook of Santana's arm and he's touching her so delicately that it is almost as if she is going to break beneath him.

"I can be serious and I am. Did you just happen to forget that he loved her too? Did you just so happen to block that whole love triangle between them and Rachel? Did you forget that he thought he was the father of Beth for so long? They were important to each other too," Kurt quips, staring at Santana's whose face is unrelenting in it's expression of pure frustration. "I called him because he's my brother and because regardless of whatever you think, Quinn needs all the people that she can get right now. With enough of us here, a miracle is bound to happen." Santana's jaw is squaring, and Rachel just knows that she is going to slap him, however, she doesn't. Instead, she turns her attention to the brunette as she places her hand onto her shoulder before she glares back at Finn.

"Rachel, if you want to blame someone for what happened, blame him. It's all his fault." Santana spits out and Finn steps towards her with the utmost confusion written on his face.

"Excuse me? I wasn't driving the truck!" Finn argues back, but Santana is certainly having none of it. Without Rachel ever saying a word, the Latina is sliding in between the two lovers, or ex-lovers, or whatever, she is not entirely sure right now. Her head is turned just sideways so that her raven black hair falls across her face just slightly and Rachel wonders if she knows how beautiful she really is when she's protective like this.

"No, but you might have as well been! I can't believe that you would do something like this. All you have ever done is play Quinn—from the moment that you first found out about her sleeping with Puck, you've strung her along like this all because you wanted to be with Rachel. And she thought you were her friend, that's why she told you. She told you because she cared about you, Finn, and what did you do? You proposed because you were scared that she'd tell her. And wow, you didn't even tell Rachel the real reason, did you?" Santana snaps and Finn's face falls, looking between Rachel and Santana with a hard gulp. Something inside of Rachel catches on fire and when she looks at Finn, she wonders if she ever really knew him at all.

"You…. You knew?" Rachel whispers and Finn shrugs his shoulders, kicking his shoe against the dirty tile floor. There's that spinning thing again that she hates, and she closes her eyes tightly, forcing them away as she looks upward.

"You've always tried to destroy her, Finn. Ruin her happiness. So, I really hope you're happy with what you've done!" She can hear Santana's voice ripping into the quarterback, but all she can focus on is the bile that is rising in her throat. Quinn had found the strength to tell not only Santana, but Rachel's very own boyfriend at the time. She had told him the truth and he turned his back on her and proposed anyway. All this time, Rachel had no idea or even if she did, she could not believe it.

"You can make me out to be an ass all you want, Santana but I wasn't the one she was texting!" Finn's voice is booming, and Rachel can barely stand on her two legs now. The world is spinning faster, faster, faster, and God, she just wants off this ride now.

"You're a very pretty girl, Quinn. Prettiest girl I've ever met. But you're a lot more than that"

"No, but I…I was." Rachel stumbles out, her knees shaking beneath her. Suddenly, all eyes are on her and everybody is looking at her with such pity in their eyes that she nearly chokes upon it. She's shaking her head as they all reach out for her, but she can't do it. She can't do any of this anymore without Quinn.

"Rachel…."

"Well, you, lady, are perfect the way you are. Don't change your big Jewish nose, and whatever you do, don't get a bob because you don't have the jawline to support that hairstyle. […] Hey, do you remember when we used to hate each other?"

"I want to support you, Rachel."

"Finn has asked me to marry him"

"What did you say?"

"I said I needed to think about it."

"Well, you can't."

"Rachel, you have an amazing life ahead of you!"

"If you really want to be happy, you're going to have to say goodbye."

"When you were singing that song, you were singing to Finn and only to Finn, right?"

"I'm looking for the immediate family of Quinn Fabray," It is a different voice that calls Rachel out of the spinning thoughts that consume her. The group of teens turn to find a doctor in scrubs and a white lab coat standing before them, a rather large clipboard in his hands. There's blood on his scrubs and Rachel honestly thinks that she is going to throw up. Is it Quinn's? Her eyes are stumbling around to find someone who could say something and finally, it's Santana who steps next to her.

"Owen," Santana whispers and the doctor looks down at her with a sigh. Rachel watches the two of them interact and internally, she realizes that there are not many people here that Santana does not know since her father works here. His face falls slightly, the wrinkles apparent upon his face and Rachel's heart is in her throat.

"Santana, you know that I can't…"

"I'm her sister," Santana states and she grabs Rachel's hand, intertwining their fingers around one another, showing him their embrace, "and this is her girlfriend." The word is heavy on Santana's lips as she squeezes Rachel's fingers but the only thing the brunette can hear is the hammering of her own heart at the mere thought of being Quinn's girlfriend. After everything they have been through, the thought that Quinn Fabray could still love her more than anyone leaves her breathless. She's shaking her head as the tears are blinding her and before she knows it, her mouth is opening, and words are tumbling out—words that she could never take back.

"Please. You… you don't understand… I…I love her." She hears Santana gasp at the admission and Finn's disgruntled 'what' echoing in the background, but honestly the only thing that she can truly notice is just how calm everything is inside of her at the statement. It had come out so easily, as if it was ridiculous that anything else could have ever been the truth. She looks at Santana with tears in her eyes as the Latina squeezes her hand in reassurance, a small smile playing upon her lips. Owen looks between the two women before town at his chart, flipping a page and then he sighs deeply.

"Okay, I'm going to need you both to come with me. Just… don't touch anything," Owen instructs, pointing his finger at Santana before he turns on his heels and pushes open the door. He waits for them inside the door, holding it open as Santana gives Rachel another reassuring squeeze. There's a moment between them—albeit, brief, in which Rachel searches for the answers in Santana's eyes and she's meet with an all too familiar love. The Latina nods her head as she looks ahead and Rachel takes a deep breath.

It's now or never.

And suddenly, without warning, Rachel takes the first step.