with the new year comes more updates from quinn about the baby, and more sonogram pictures. rachel stops trying to figure it out, why she's the one quinn is sharing all this stuff with, but she still doesn't always respond.
sometimes entire weeks go by without her even thinking about quinn or the baby or what could have been, and other times, it's the only thing on her mind. it's too easy to slip into the fantasy that they're hers—the girl she loves, their baby—and that the only thing keeping them apart is distance. but rachel knows it's just a silly romantic daydream, like so many others she's had in her life, and she's quick to chastise herself every time she starts thinking that way.
in february, their applications for lima arrive. kurt and blaine fill theirs out right away, but for rachel and santana the decision is a little tougher because they each know quinn and brittany won't be there.
one night, as they sit in santana's living room, rachel spots a stack of sketches stuffed under a pile of magazines.
"what's this?" rachel asks, pulling the papers from the floor.
"just some ideas i had," santana replies vaguely. "set designs."
"oh, for a show at the theater?"
"no," santana says, taking the sketches from rachel's hands. "just something i was working on on my own; it's nothing."
"they look really interesting, santana," rachel says, encouragingly.
"of course they do," santana says with her usual confidence, "but there's no actual show, so what's the point?"
"you should talk to blaine," rachel says. "he's been trying to write some songs lately. maybe you two could work together on something."
"we'll see," santana says. "so...what's the deal? are we gonna do lima this year, or what?"
"i don't know," rachel sighs.
"well, we can't mope around here all summer, just because we don't have our blondes."
"i never had a blonde, santana," rachel reminds her.
"sure you did, berry. you two totally had each other; you just didn't know it," santana says sincerely.
"i know that can't be true," rachel replies wistfully.
"why?"
"because i want it too much."
santana smirks at her and leans back in her seat. "so when's the baby due?" she asks.
"april," rachel sighs, smiling dreamily, and she's surprised to see santana smiling as well.
on the morning of april 4th, rachel gets a call from a nervous-sounding older woman.
"is this...rachel berry?"
"yes?"
"this is judy fabray...quinn's mother. my daughter insisted that i call you right away and let you know...she's delivered the baby."
rachel opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
"hello?"
"yes, ma'am. i'm sorry. are they...is everything alright?"
"they're both fine. quinn handled the delivery beautifully."
rachel just silently nods, knowing how strong quinn is.
"well," the woman continues, "i need to get back."
"thank you for calling me, mrs. fabray. will you let quinn know i'm thinking of her?" rachel says. and give her a kiss for me? she thinks.
it's not until after she's hung up that rachel lets the tears that have been welling up in her eyes fall. i should have been there, she thinks. and then she thinks that's a ridiculous thought. they're ok, she tells herself. that's all that matters. any other thought is just selfishness.
a week or so later, rachel receives a birth announcement in the mail. her first reaction is relief that the newborn in the photograph bears almost no resemblance to noah puckerman. then she sees the name printed below the photograph: elizabeth rachel fabray.
her hands begin to tremble. she has no idea what to make of it. is it an apology? a wish? or is it just a name quinn likes that has nothing to do with her at all? santana, of course, has a clearer view of the matter: "fuck, berry. that's seriously passive aggressive."
the floodgates open after that. quinn bombards her with near-weekly photographs of beth. the emails they're attached to never really say much, and rachel only responds sporadically, quickly running out of ways to say, "she's beautiful, quinn."
in june, rachel, santana, kurt, and blaine head back to lima. without the distraction of quinn's presence, rachel really focuses on her students. the progress she makes with them is rewarding, but the nights and weekends are exponentially less interesting.
one night, the four of them go down to the bar and sing. after a few drinks, santana wows them with her karaoke-amy winehouse, after which kurt and blaine start fawning over her like she's some kind of power tool-wielding judy garland. rachel watches them, smiling, but doesn't join in the singing. she knows she'll only end up spoiling the mood by singing some regretful ballad.
when kurt and blaine launch into a madonna medley, santana slumps down on a barstool next to rachel and orders them a round of beers.
"you ever notice something about this place, berry?"
"what?"
"well, they pick us to come here and teach these kids because we're supposed to be like...the hot new shit, right?"
"alright," rachel concedes, though not entirely in agreement with santana's characterization.
"but not one of us has made it big yet," santana continues.
"except brittany," rachel smiles, patting santana's hand.
"except brittany," santana smiles. brittany's spending the summer on tour with some big pop star. rachel knows santana misses her dreadfully, but she also knows santana couldn't be prouder.
"how is she?" rachel asks.
"she's great," santana says, taking a long sip from her beer. "i was talking to her yesterday actually, and-," she hesitates, thoughtfully.
"if this is a phone sex thing, santana, i'm not really up for a recap tonight."
"no," santana scoffs. "it's not that. it's just...if you wanted to...you know...go a couple rounds...just for old time's sake. brittany said she'd be ok with that."
rachel chokes, coughing beer out onto the bar. "excuse me?"
santana rolls her eyes. "i just...i know you're lonely, berry. i might not be quinn fabray's biggest fan, but i know how you feel about her, and i can only imagine what this whole baby thing is doing to you. so brittany was just saying that-,"
"wait a minute. this is something you actually discussed with brittany?" rachel asks, incredulous.
"sure. why not? i mean, i know you and brittany don't know each other that well, but she really cares about you."
"i see," rachel says, giving santana a knowing smirk. "well, tell brittany that i genuinely appreciate the offer, but i think i can manage just fine on my own for now."
"wanky," santana replies, clanking her bottle against rachel's.
mike and tina are getting married in philly after camp ends. just before they all leave lima, tina approaches rachel about it.
"i just wanted to let you know that puck's going to be in the wedding," she says. "i might not like him, but he's mike's friend, and i didn't feel like i could say no. i hope you'll still come."
rachel, of course, agrees to go. mike and tina have been good friends to her, and not being at their wedding just because puck will be there seems childish and melodramatic, even for her.
she makes good work of avoiding him throughout most of the wedding reception, but as soon as santana leaves her side, she's cornered, confronted with him and his stupid mohawk and his rotten whiskey breath.
"why don't you like me?" he asks, that smug expression stretching across his face.
she just swallows hard and looks over her shoulder to see if she can get in santana's eyeline.
"i know why," he says. her hands ball into fists.
"i'll bet you've got a picture of her in your wallet, don't you? and you think you're better than me because of it. but she'll always be mine, and not yours, no matter what."
and then they just stare at each other. what he's said is so bitingly true that rachel can hardly breathe. it doesn't matter. nothing she's ever felt or done or could do will ever matter. because he's done the one thing she can't, owns a part of quinn the way she never will, made a permanent mark on her life that rachel never could. she's about a second away from giving him the satisfaction of seeing her break down when she feels santana's arm slip around her shoulders and pull her away.
"what did he say to you?" santana asks when they're back out on the road home.
"just the truth," rachel sighs.