Rachel POV

I woke up a few days ago with the urge to vomit and haven't stopped since. The day I ran out of the glee club was the second day of sickness. It's now the sixth day and I've been avoiding Santana. I know she will try to take care of me or try to get me to go to the doctor but I can't allow that to happen.

I can't let that happen because I don't think I'm ill. I know I've been throwing up for days but that's not all. I can't stand the smell of zucchini muffins or soy lattes even though they're my favourites and I'm just over a week late. It could all be a coincidence but I don't think it is.

I think I'm pregnant.

The next day I'm sat in glee with my hand subconsciously resting on my stomach and my thoughts focused on what I'm going to do when I get home. I'm going to take a pregnancy test, or 10 from different brands. Until I've done that I can't go near Santana or try to arouse her. She'll notice something's up and if I tell her she'll worry and if it's just a false alarm then why tell her? I'll just avoid her until I 's going to hate me for it but it's for the best. If I'm not pregnant, I can just say I didn't want her getting ill.

After the recommended 2 minutes, I turn them all over to see the same result staring me in the face. I'm with child.

How do I tell Santana something like this? How will our parents react? Oh god, how will the student population of William McKinley High School react? I'm a social pariah with no past or present relationships (that they are aware of). The names are going to start. Slut. Whore. I don't really care if they choose to hate me because of this but if Santana was to leave me, I would die.

I'm currently sitting in my car trying to work up the courage to drive over to Sans. I hope she will understand why I ignored her for the past few days and I really hope she doesn't leave me to fend for myself.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

With each knock I start to feel worse. Guilty even. Something doesn't feel right about this visit. Maybe I should have called first.

"What the hell do you want Treasure trail?" Quinn answered the door. She's here and so am I. This could not be any worse. I knew I should have called.

"I needed to talk to San-tana." I had to force her whole name out. I don't talk to her in front of people so I never say Santana. It's always San or Tana but they would seem too casual and Quinn is here.

She looks at me suspiciously as if she's trying to figure out why I'm here. Eventually she gives up and shouts for Santana, not leaving the horrible name out.

As she's shouting for S, Maribel walks past the door and sees me. Please don't give away our relationship. Please don't show Quinn how well you know me.

"Rae, sweetie. Don't stand there, come in. Hopefully you can put a smile back on San's face. "

"Hope so Mrs Lopez." I say formally, hoping Maribel will figure out Quinn doesn't know and hoping Quinn doesn't question anything.

"Nonsense Rachel. When was the last time you called me Mrs Lopez? It's Maribel to you."

"Can someone explain what the hell is happening here? Berry just turns up and knows you all? It doesn't make sense." Quinn says but gets ignored by everyone.

"Hi Rachel. What's up?" I can see in her eyes that she thinks she's in trouble.

"Hey S. Nothings wrong. Just relax okay? I'll come back later."

"WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!?" Quinn just shouts at the top of her lungs and in return she finally gets the attention of the people in the room.

"Rach, there's no need for you to leave. And Q, you might want to sit down for this."

She does as she's told, confusion still written all over her face.

Santana looks at me for confirmation that she can tell Quinn about us.

"Okay, here's the thing Q. Me and Rachel, we, well, were um, were." She trails off and looks over to me with a pleading look telling me she wants me to take over.

"We're a couple."

"WHAT? Since when?"

"Before freshman year." Santana mumbles. Since telling our parents we haven't had to tell anyone and Santana is terrified of how people will react.

"Wanna say that again mumbles?"

"Before freshman year."

"Okay, this definitely doesn't make sense now. You hate Berry."

"I don't hate her. I love her. I'm in love with her."