Hey guys!

Sorry for the unusually long wait for this chap; I was on vacation with my little sis, who is 13 and has the energy of three caffeinated Rachel Berrys around the clock, and I barely had a chance to sleep, let alone write! But don't fret, we now return to your regularly scheduled programming. You guys got your tix to the glee 3D movie this weekend or what?

Enjoy,

-JW

…..

Trouble at the Tonys

June 2028

…...

"You'd better not be splashing the floor in there, little monsters!" Santana called over her shoulder toward the bathroom, as the sound of squealing and splashing wafted down the hall of the Berry family's spacious penthouse apartment.

"The giant octopus is attacking us, Auntie Santa!" Zoe's voice replied, echoed by Charlie's giggling. The tough Latina cracked a reluctant smile as she came into the bathroom doorway and leaned against it, raising an eyebrow at the two sudsy little girls splashing each other delightedly in the tub.

"Oh really?" she said drolly, watching Zoe waving her arms like tentacles over her little sister, who was giggling delightedly.

"Monster gonna get us! Glue his stickers with peanut butter!" Charlie squealed, scooping up a handful of suds and dumping them over Zoe's head.

"Okay, okay, calm down you guys," Santana sighed, kneeling down on the bath mat and putting a hand on each of their soapy shoulders. "You're gonna end up with half the bathwater coming through your downstairs' neighbors ceiling at this rate. Shh, take it easy...time to start relaxing and getting ready for bed now."

"But we don't hafta go to sleep," Zoe reminded her aunt sternly, arching an eyebrow in what Santana affectionately thought of as her junior HBIC face. "We get to stay up an' watch the Tonys with you, and see Mama and Mommy on TV."

"Tony! Mama win!" Charlie trilled, hoisting up her favorite plastic dinosaur like a trophy, and giggling delightedly as it sent a splatter of suds across the bathroom.

"Yes, little monsters, you're allowed to stay up and watch the Tonys with me and Auntie B," Santana sighed, rolling her eyes with an affectionate smirk for her two nieces, thinking that the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it came to the Berry family. Both of their kids were one hundred percent hooked on the magic of Broadway, and they loved the glamor and fanfare of the awards shows. And as this was the first time in either of their lives that Rachel was up for a Tony herself, they were all the more overexcited. "But you still have to rinse off and finish your bath, brush your teeth, and get into PJ's. So let's get a move on, huh? You don't wanna miss the opening number, do you?"

"Right," Zoe nodded decisively, squeezing her eyes shut and dunking her head under the water to rinse out her hair, while Santana helped three-year-old Charlotte lean back and rinse her hair without dunking her head, which she was still too afraid to do at age three.

"Auntie Santa?" the little girl asked, yawning softly and blinking her big brown eyes as Santana rinsed the shampoo from her hair. She may be allowed to stay up tonight, but the Latina was pretty sure the littlest Berry would be asleep on the couch within thirty minutes anyway.

"Yeah, squirt?"

"When will you an' Auntie B have a baby?" Santana snorted at the question, but couldn't stop the small grin that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"You think we should be moms, half-pint?"

"Yah," Charlie nodded, as Zoe climbed out of the tub and began drying herself off.

"Of course you should, dummy," the older child agreed, grinning at Santana with such a sardonic duh expression, head cocked to one side, that for a moment the Latina swore she was looking at an eight-year-old Quinn.

"Yeah, an' give us a baby cousin to play with," Charlie agreed, smiling sleepily as Santana scooped her up and wrapped her in a fluffy white towel.

"Did Auntie B tell you to say that?" Santana asked, only half teasing, as she toweled off Charlotte's silky baby-soft hair.

"No. But I already asked Mama an' Mommy if we could have another baby, and they said no 'cause our family is just right. So it's your turn now, Auntie Santa. I don't want to be the littlest anymore." Santana chuckled and set the little girl down on the bath mat, pulling her pajama top down over her damp head.

"Well I tell ya what, squirt…we might just do that. But not tonight. C'mon, let's get your teeth brushed and then we'll go find Auntie B and get the show started."

…...

At Radio City Music Hall, Rachel and Quinn were still making their way down the red carpet, smiling for the endless stream of press photographers and talking politely to interviewers and reporters who thrust lights and microphones in their faces.

"Don't tell Kurt I said this, but I'm kind of over this whole scene," Rachel said to Quinn under her breath, as they gave one final wave to the press line before ducking into the theater to take their seats.

"Oh really?" Quinn raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Ready for retirement already, are we?"

"I didn't say that," Rachel rolled her eyes, smirking at her teasing wife and giving her a little smack on the ass as they walked down the red velvet aisle. "I'd just rather spend my free evenings at home, hanging out with the kids, than be all dressed up for another dog and pony show here."

"Aww, my little Donna Reed," Quinn cooed, slipping a hand down to the dip in Rachel's backless dress to guide her to her seat. "Well if it'll make you feel better, you can make us some chocolate chip cookies when we get home tonight..."

"I'd rather put something else that's hot, sweet and sticky in your mouth, miss smartass," Rachel growled, giving Quinn a saucy little wink as they took their seats.

"Ooh, is that a promise...?" They were giggling and giving each other dirty looks when Quinn's cell phone vibrated in her pleated satin Kate Spade clutch, and she fished it out absently with a grin plastered to her face. "Hey San, everything okay with..." The smile slid slowly from the blonde girl's face as her voice trailed off, and the rosy color drained sharply from her cheeks.

"Quinn? What's wrong? Are the kids all right?" Rachel asked nervously, but Quinn had already jumped up from her seat, an expression of undiluted terror in her bright hazel eyes.

"We have to get to the hospital, Rach."

…...

It was only a mile and a half from Radio City to New York Presbyterian Hospital, but Rachel still gave the driver a $100 bill when they climbed into the cab, demanding that he get them there as fast as humanly possible. The little starlet spent the entirety of the short trip on her cell phone, yelling at various receptionists in the hospital's emergency room as she tried to track down the chief of pediatric emergency medicine. Quinn, meanwhile, just put her head down between her knees and tried not to throw up as the cab took another sharp turn at high speed through busy midtown traffic.

It was no more than twenty minutes later, though it felt like much longer, when Quinn and Rachel found their way to the small private exam room where their three-year-old was curled up fast asleep in a plain white hospital bed, with Santana at her side, stroking her tiny forehead. The littlest Berry looked a little pale and sweaty, but otherwise whole and unharmed as she lay sleeping with her mouth wide open, her chest rising and falling evenly. Beside the bed, Brittany held a sniffling Zoe tight in her arms, rocking her and cooing softly. Both kids were in their pajamas, their hair still damp from the bath.

"Mommy, Mama," Zoe whimpered when she saw them, twisting out from Brittany's arms and throwing herself at Quinn, who scooped her up and hugged her tightly, stroking the back of her head as the little girl broke down into a torrent of exhausted sobbing. "Charlie fell down an' she was shaking all over, and I, I, I thought she was just having a tantrum and I told her to get up and stop being a baby, and then, then s-she made a funny sound an' I s-saw blood all coming out of her mouth, and I thought she was dying…" Zoe wailed into Quinn's shoulder, shaking and gasping as her frightened mom tried to soothe her.

"Shh, it's okay now baby, we're here…we're all safe, Mommy's got you…shh…"

"I'll go get the doctor," Santana offered, hastily jumping up from her seat for Rachel, who immediately took her place beside the bed and slipped her hand through the child safety bars to feel her sleeping baby's face.

"She's burning up, Quinn," Rachel murmured worriedly, smoothing a lock of damp hair back from the little girl's cheek. Quinn sat down weakly in the seat beside her, Zoe still wrapped tightly around her like a baby monkey.

"The doctor said it was a febrile seizure," Brittany offered meekly, twisting her wedding ring nervously around her finger and looking like she didn't quite know what to do with herself now. "It happened so fast, and we didn't know what to do so we just called 911…but they said it's not serious, and she could go home as soon as you guys got here…"

"Not serious?" Rachel hissed, her voice trembling with fury. "Are they kidding? A seizure? What, does she have to bite her tongue off for it to be considered serious? Does she have epilepsy? Tell me exactly what happened, Britt. Every detail." Before Brittany could answer, Santana returned with the doctor, a kindly-looking Asian man with greying temples and a neatly trimmed goatee.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Chu," he said, his calm voice and pacifying smile doing little to put Quinn and Rachel at ease as he shook their hands. "I'm the attending pediatric physician in this hospital, and I've been monitoring your daughter since she was brought in tonight. Let me assure you, right off the bat, that she's not in any danger. Can I assume from the looks on both your faces that this is the first time Charlotte's had a seizure?"

"Yes," Rachel nodded anxiously, putting a gentle hand on Zoe's back as the eight-year-old started whimpering again. "Have you done every possible test to know what caused this? Are you sure she doesn't have epilepsy?"

"Your daughter had what's known as a febrile seizure. It's very common in young children between ages one and five, and the odds of developing epilepsy are no greater than for any other healthy child. 95 percent of kids who have their first febrile seizure after their second birthday go on to live perfectly normal, healthy lives. Truly, she's going to be just fine."

"But you didn't do any tests?" Rachel persisted, and Quinn could see her starting to go into her own, diva version of HBIC mode. "I mean, a kid just has a seizure out of nowhere, and you're not even going to bother finding out what caused it?"

"In cases like this, invasive testing is only going to cause more distress for the child. She was brought in with a fever of…" He checked his clipboard, "A hundred and four degrees. It's very common for a high-grade fever like this to cause a seizure in a young child—one in twenty-five kids will have a febrile seizure before their fifth birthday."

"A hundred and four?" Quinn gasped, looking at Santana angrily. "Why didn't you call us sooner?"

"I swear, Q, she was acting completely normal," Santana shook her head helplessly, looking like she might burst into tears. Brittany squeezed her hand. "We had no idea…"

"Don't blame yourself, young lady," Dr. Chu said gently, patting Santana on the shoulder. "It's not terribly uncommon for young children to develop a fever suddenly, and they can often be asymptomatic for several hours. The seizure itself can sometimes be the first sign that a child is sick. Considering the circumstances, you did exactly the right thing by bringing her in." Santana nodded, sniffling and wiping at her eyes in obvious embarrassment. Zoe lifted her head from Quinn's shoulder, and crawled over her to reach out for Santana's arms.

"It's okay, Auntie Santa," the eight-year-old murmured, climbing into her arms and hugging her tightly, with a huge yawn of exhaustion as her terror drained slowly away. "You did good. Don't be sad."

"Thanks, noodle," Santana murmured, hugging the clingy child in her arms with a dejected little smile.

"So we can really just take her home? You don't want to run any tests to make sure she doesn't have a brain tumor or something?" Rachel asked again, one hand still resting protectively over her sleeping child. "You do realize I could pay for an entire new wing of this hospital if you said it would help my kid?"

"Of course, Miss Berry," The doctor grinned a little sheepishly. "If you were to insist, we could perform a CAT scan and a battery of blood tests, and hold Charlotte here overnight for observation. But if you want my professional opinion, as the chief pediatric attending physician at this hospital, take your kid home. What she needs is rest, fluids and Ibuprofen for the fever. She'll be good as new before you know it."

"I want the tests," Rachel said firmly; but Quinn leaned over and put a pacifying hand on her arm.

"Rach, no," she begged, glancing from her peacefully sleeping child to the anxious, hyper-alert one still clinging to Santana. "When you offer to dump a bag of money on the hospital, and the doctor still says the tests aren't necessary, the tests aren't necessary. Let's just take her home and let her rest. I don't want her to spend the night in a strange place if she doesn't have to. We can give her what she needs at home, where she'll be comfortable."

"Yeah, home," Zoe nodded sleepily from Santana's shoulder, rubbing her eyes. "I can help take care of Charlie, Mama." Rachel looked from Zoe, to Quinn, back to the doctor, and sighed.

"All right, let's go home." Dr. Chu signed the discharge sheet with follow-up instructions for Quinn and Rachel, and gave Zoe a lollypop from his coat pocket for being a brave big sister, plus an extra one for Charlie when she woke up. Zoe picked a red one for herself and a blue one for Charlie, then gave him a big hug before he left. Brittany and Santana followed suit, with more hugs and kisses and unnecessary apologies, leaving Quinn and Rachel to scoop up their kids and get them home. Little Charlotte stirred and mumbled in her sleep when Quinn scooped her up from the bed, but didn't wake up until they were halfway home in the cab.

"Mommy?" she murmured woozily, as her eyes blinked slowly open in Quinn's arms.

"Hey, there's our little jellyfish," Quinn cooed, beaming as she leaned down and pressed a few soft kisses to her child's feverish forehead. "How do you feel, baby?" Charlotte yawned and rubbed her eyes sleepily. Rachel and Zoe both leaned in close to hear the three-year-old's groggy voice.

"Mama win the Tony?"