A/N: Been forever and a day. Every time I have had free time it has been needed for sleep, but I hope to have more time to write in coming weeks my work and school load though still large isn't as time consuming as it has previously been. With Thanksgiving coming up I hope to have updates for this story and a few others. I'm hoping for including this one, two chapters updated by next week.

READ, REVIEW and ENJOY! I live on constructive criticism, it makes me want to do better and cater even more towards my readers.

Title: The Crash

Rating: M – language, strong sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, "character death"

Pairings (in no order): Faberry, Brittana, Tike, Klaine, Finchel

Friendships: Quick, Puckleberry, Pezberry, more

Summary: While recovering from her accident Quinn is placed under the care of one of the more radical doctors in Lima. With his eccentric and what some would say out-of-date methods Quinn is pulled from reality, and given a chance to view the world after her 'death'.

Setting the Scene: Quinn and Rachel have gravitated to Rachel's bedroom. If Brittany and Santana have returned neither have any idea.

Chapter VII

Quinn and Rachel rested together in a tangle of limbs. Quinn's cloths sat neatly folded and the heavy wool coat rested atop an old swivel office chair. The blonde stroked the cheek of the brunette who wore an oversized long-sleeve cobalt blue jersey cotton shirt. The teenager kissed the exposed tan shoulder. She too wore one of the Rachel's oversized shirts, hers a deep maroon.

Rachel proposed their current state of calm and tangled limbs. Quinn, the one to open the flood gates of emotion became the one to pull back and close off.

Twenty minutes prior…

Coral and rose pink lips clashed against one another. Tan hands, recently manicured, disappeared within the heavy wool coat the young woman's fingers gripped to the hips, lower back, and shoulders of the teen.

A groan escaped the blonde as her thin upper lip trailed the hot tan exposed skin of the young woman. Her lithe hands ran desperate trails from the brunette's rear to shoulder blades. Another sound, a moan, escaped the taller of the two. She felt polished nails scrap across the hidden skin of her abdomen, then curl into her jeans.

Quinn's eyes opened with a start. She felt the brass button break free, and heard the zipper as the tight material of her pants loosen around her toned legs. Quinn took hold of Rachel's hands prying them from her skinny-jeans. "I—I'm sorry. Rachel…" She looked to the floor ashamed, her mess of hair hiding her away from the hurt no-doubt crossing her secret-crush's face. "I want—need this so much, but what you've waited close to ten years for…" She was Quinn 'Fuckin' Fabray, she was no coward. Yet here she stood terrified of what may come. "I've barely had three—no—four months to properly process my – my feelings..." Quinn stuttered.

Rachel pulled back. Hand underneath the blonde's chin she lifted her perfect face, only place the iritic bangs and place them behind Quinn's ear. Eyes met, deep brown and hazel lost in each other. The tiny brunette left feather light kisses atop either side of Quinn's jaw finally ending with a deep drawn out kiss of lips against lips. "Than just lie with me, Quinn, like you said I've waited close to ten years for this, and I can wait longer. If it means I can still be close to you." She released Quinn, and turned to the large chest of drawers.

Quinn nodded dumbly. "I don't have anything to wear."

"I didn't tell you to stop." Quinn smiled. She continued the feather touch of her knuckle along Rachel's bare shoulder.

"Where do you go?"

"Hm?"

"Where do you go when you…" Rachel paused. Quinn could see her ponder her own query before asking once more. "Where are you really meant to be?"

Quinn gave pause. Where did she go when pulled back from this dreary future? She knew it was the hospital, and she knew from the sounds, her mother and Frannie would visit, but, where in the hospital, she had no idea. "I'm not…I think…I'm at Lima General I know that. Where that—that changes…sometimes it's bright other times it feels cold…and lonely very lonely."

The brunette huffed, a puff of air flailing her bangs about. Quinn chuckled, free hand smoothing the bangs to their place. "That's awful no one should ever feel cold and alone."

She agreed. No one should ever feel the way, she felt, when she awoke lucid or not. "Where is…no…who is…" Quinn paused, no clue of how to ask the one question which latched deep to her throat ready to release tears once asked. "Do you ever see Beth?"

Rachel froze, Quinn looked on confused. This really been the question to confuse the brunette of all the questions she had asked. The question in regards to her daughter would be the one to cause pause with the young woman. "Not anymore…Shelby and I haven't been on the best of terms of late, so I guess the last I spoke with Beth she was…seven, eight perhaps." She shifted her body resting at her side rather than atop her stomach. The oversized shirt exposed a tan breast the edge of its nipple's peak just in view of the blonde.

Quinn nodded eyes drifting to exposed breast, she wet her lips. Now was a time for a change of subject. "You should get some sleep."

Rachel shook her head.

Quinn huffed. "Rachel, you need to rest." She stopped her strokes her palm resting against the tired, slack, yet beautiful features of the girl—no—woman she had convinced herself was a silly crush.

"No, if I shut my eyes you'll disappear," Rachel yawned, her eyes lulled. Quinn pulled forwards her delicate hand gone replaced with her lips. She kissed Rachel's face till she felt the steady-even breath. "Quinn…I just got you back…I can't—don't want to lose you—again…," her speech slowed as she drifted off.

She watched as Rachel drifted to sleep, her body exhausted from a ten hour work day. Quinn watches and she longs for her, for her Rachel. She had to tell her how she felt there was no holding back now. She rose from the bed, and crept towards the attached bathroom.

Rachel

Second Visit to Lima General…

"I can finally see her?"

"Yeah, but we need too—wait for Santana." Frannie survived the vending machine for the third time today. If this visit were to reach its fifth or sixth then the dirty-blonde would ask for a break from the hospital for the night. She eyed her sugar treat and began to punch the numbers. Rachel and the older Fabray sister watched one another from the reflective plastic. "I promised, okay. She begged, that girl never begs for anything, but she and I quote 'please Fran…don't let the midg—Berry see Quinn without me! Please!'" She laughed taking hold of the candy pulling it from its confines. "Speak of the devil"

"You do keep your promises. I thought for-sure she'd have annoyed you into letting her see my girl before me." Rachel jumped to attention. She could see Santana Lopez and Brittany S. Peirce's reflections from the linoleum floor close-in on herself and Quinn's older sister. "Alright, well…come-on!" The reflections continued past Rachel, it may be best to follow the actual teens Rachel reasoned, and she was met with the smiling eyes of Brittany.

"Hi, Rachel!"

"Hi, Brittany," Rachel returned with the same delight, but with less enthusiasm.

Francine, hand gripped tight to the door handle, turned to her teenager-baby-sister's friends. "A few things before...she's a bit, well, she's out of it. I was able to get a sentence out of her earlier, but just barely. And, it wasn't even coherent for the most part. Anyway, she asked about you three and that's a good sign."

Santana's eyes lit at this new information. Brittany began to bounce on the balls of her feet shaking Santana's arm with the excitement that Quinn not only remembered who she was, but had asked for her. Rachel, Rachel kept a stone face a slight smile crossing her lips. She had to maintain composer as the letter had begged. A letter she did not remember much about, but a letter she saved unread until this incident.

Frannie took the moment with the girls before continuing her tiny speech. "She's lucid and very tired. If she dozes off, we'll have to keep this short visit even shorter…alright?"

Rachel and Santana nodded.

"What's lucid," asked Brittany.

Rachel glanced at the intertwined cheerleaders' hands. Santana gave Brittany's a quick squeeze. "She's hopped up on drugs, B..." Santana looked to the tall dancer. "You remember that time freshman year when she took those two Benadryl at the same time, and she crawled onto her bed and fell off."

Brittany bobbed her head. "She's going to talk funny like then too?"

The brass cheerleader held her breath before answering her girlfriend. "Yeah, I hope so. Gotta get some sort of blackmail of this whole situation, now don't I?" Rachel watched Santana wipe a stray tear from her lower lid and clean it from her finger with her skirt. The small brunette took hold of the Latina's hand, and held it tight.

Santana never pulled away with disgust.

The blonde Fabray in hospital scrubs opened the door. "Hey four-eyes. You have visitors." She moved to the side hand still holding the opened door. "You'll need to whisper, loud noise is still an issue with her at the moment."

Quinn Fabray lied in the over fluffed hospital bed. Her body propped upright forty-five – fifty degrees. Her blonde hair closer to the length from the beginning of the school year, the length Rachel had come to love. She wore a hospital gown, a pale purple not the typical teal. Brittany, Rachel, and Santana crept without sound across the room to the foot of the bed, and Frannie shut the door with a soft click.

"Wh—why's her hair shorter?" The question had crossed Rachel, but was Quinn's rash best-friend who spoke it aloud first.

"Mom, said it was getting in her cuts didn't want blood in her hair, so I cut it back a bit." Francine sat atop the small stool close to the door. Chairs were designated to visitors.

She blinked then took a breath. They gasped Quinn's simple movement of a blink then a breath made her accident all too real, and Rachel shed tears she hoped had finished. The petite diva held tight to the IVed hand. She ran her thumb across ice-cold fingers. "Oh, Quinn…I'm so—sorry this was my entire fault…" Quinn rapped a finger around the middle and ring fingers of Rachel's hand, her head rotating in the direction of the noise. Brittany bit at her bottom lip, death grip around Santana's jacketed arm. Santana, held her breath. Then bright beam of light ran its way through the closed blinds. She flinched, let loose a groan, and closed her eyes tight.

Whatever hold on Quinn Fabray lost as she drifted away, back into where ever she had come from.

Quinn

Lima, Ohio's Suburban Streets…

This was new, well not, new in the since of a new place. Quinn knew of this place, this house, this neighborhood. This was after all her neighborhood though the homes felt different, dated. Aside from the directly across that home she knew. She recognized the two story basement-attached middle class home. Well, aside from the odd array of landscaping and the budding new flowers. Where-ever she was, when-ever she was Quinn Fabray, cropped blonde and ex-head cheerleading teenager, stood stock-still as her hazel eyes adjusted to the bright new-morning sun.

Now was not then, or was it. She may have only appeared, disappeared, then reappeared a few times, but Rachel was always there. Rachel had always been close enough for her to find. And now, now all Quinn could see from one end of this Lima, Ohio Suburban Street to the other was a little girl, a little girl no more than five, no, perhaps six.

The girl hummed at angel-pitch. She wore a bright pink fleece pullover coat above what Quinn could only guess to be a mauve corduroy dress and thick white tights. Dark hair held back with a headband. She sat atop the single step walkway that separated sidewalk and street from the homeowner's lot, large chunk of pink colored chock in hand.

"Where'd you come from," yelled the angel-pitch voice.

"I—um… What," stammered the blonde with a high yelp?

"Where. Did. You. Come. From," asked the girl once-again. Then the heavy nostril release of air. The little girl had huffed. If Quinn had not seen the girl she would have mistaken the sound for a small-no-medium-sized dog. "I have been out here like-ever, and I have never seen you before."

Damn-it!

"I live...," Quinn pointed behind her right shoulder.

"You live with the crazy-lady-down-the-block-with-the-tacky-moo-moo?" The girl spoke the description as if it had been used by a parent in the comforts of their own home.

She stocked in the direction of the little girl. Her shadow hovered over the girl engulfing her whole body causing the small child to shiver from a fresh chill of air. "Oh yeah, and what makes you so smart hmm?" Quinn paused. "What's to say I haven't just moved-in?"

Girl attention back to her chalk drawing answered. "I know every-buddy on the block." She shrugged. "And," she spoke loud. "And—there wasn't a moving van. There is always a moving van."

Teenager watched child, and child watched Teenager. "Okay, so I don't live with the crazy-lady-down-the-block."

"With-the-tacky-moo-moo," finished the girl.

Quinn chuckled. "Yes, with the tacky moo-moo." She faced the street then fell back to the grass her skinny-jeaned rear landing with a heavy plop. She took a chunk of lavender chalk and began to push and pull it across the concrete. "Alright, I'm not from around…here so sue me."

The tiny girl gaped at Quinn. How dare she take her chalk without asking? She forced her hand in front of the blonde's face. She shook it variously. "That makes you a stranger, now give it back, and go away." Quinn could feel the girl's soft brown eyes glaring metaphorical daggers into her skull. This child was relentless that or one of the best trained five-year-old out there when it came to not speaking with strangers.

Yeah, if only I could, kid. If only I could. The teen paused. It seemed to work before might as well use it again.

"Well, I'm Lucy. Does that make me a stranger anymore?" The girl shook her head, bottom lip between her teeth. "What's your name?" The focus given to her drawing, gone, she turned back to Quinn.

The little girl stood, now eye-to-eye with Lucy Quinn Fabray. She moved the chunk of pink chalk from her right hand to her left, and held it out-stretched, and Quinn took hold. "Rachel Barbra Berry," answered the little girl as she began to shake her arm up and down.

She froze, this had to be karma, all the bad names and slushy-facials. Everything finally came back to haunt her in the time-altered forms of Rachel Barbra Berry. What the fucking-hell is going on!

I hope you enjoyed, please review and let me know what you think.