The end. Taking things any further would be self-indulgent, I think - the story's been told. Thank you for reading, leaving your thoughts, feelings, and general encouragement. You've all been lovely, and I've enjoyed myself. I think I quite like it here, I'd like to stay, if you'll have me and my occasional Brit-speak failing.

(As an aside, thank you to Glee for showing me that I needn't have worried about trying to make Quinn recovery process accurate, because they clearly weren't that bothered about it either!)

If this had ever been about happy endings, Quinn is pretty sure that it shouldn't have been a car crash that set things in motion.

Because she's started having dreams now, dreams that she really hopes aren't memories, that stab their way into her subconscious and furnish her already over-heated imagination with sounds, and smells, and the sickly feeling of her own blood running down her side.

The only assurance that Quinn has that they are dreams is the presence of Rachel's gentle voice in the far distance, reciting wedding vows that Quinn knows for certain were never spoken.

Just a dream. Just a dream. Even when she wakes up sweating in the half light, in her half bedroom, scream just caught on her tongue.

When her heart stopped hammering in her throat, she stretches to her side, and reaches for her phone on the side table. Six twenty seven a.m.

Quinn indulges herself for a moment, and scrolls through her inbox, re-reading the messages she's received from Rachel since the evening Kurt and Mercedes turned up with Rachel in tow, and forced Quinn's hand.

She'd never tell them, ever in the case of Kurt, who would probably organize some kind of 'I was right' victory parade and march it up and down in front of Santana's house a few hundred times, but things had been (wonderfully, astonishingly) better, since she'd held Rachel's hand and essentially said, in an embarrassingly lump of words, that she thought Rachel was pretty much perfect.

Quinn rolls her eyes slightly at herself, because she's Quinn Fabray, she doesn't do feelings like these. But they're there, nevertheless, squeezing her chest tight and improving her day by incremental margins, every time she allows herself to think of Rachel, which has been increasingly often since Rachel had said everything Quinn had needed to know by reaching for her hand with both of hers, and stroking a small repeated circle into Quinn's palm with her thumb.

One of the best things is that Rachel no longer comes around every day, so Quinn doesn't have to feel completely pathetic in front of her, but instead, at Quinn's request, says all she needs to say on the phone. It had been quite hard to explain her reasons, without being completely full on and saying something like 'I don't want your memories of the start of whatever we are going to be dominated by you seeing me in an invalided state.' Ultimately Quinn's stumbled explanation that she didn't want Rachel to have to be her nurse, far from it, seemed to have done the trick. Rachel had smiled softly and murmured back that she didn't want Quinn to be her patient, not really, and that had been that.

It is the thought of Rachel's smile, and the remembered pressure of Rachel's fingertips on her skin, which tips her over the edge, and she taps the call button.

Rachel's greeting sounds fuzzy with sleep, and Quinn immediately regrets calling, because it was only a nightmare and she could have comforted herself, given enough time.

'Hey Rach, sorry, I wasn't thinking, it is way too early to be calling, I'll let you sleep.'

Rachel must shift, and stretch against her sheets, because the noise Quinn receives in reply is part sigh, part moan, and Quinn is really glad Rachel can't see her face, because she can feel a blush starting.

'Mmmph... hey, don't worry about it... I think I might quite like you waking me up.'

Quinn is rapidly learning is that Rachel seems to have no limits to what she says when she's just waking, or just going to sleep. She half laughs, and allows herself to imagine Rachel, wrapped up and sleepy, in bed. She hears her voice lower in response.

'Well, it wasn't the intention, but I'm glad you like it. Anyway, it was nothing, I just had a stupid dream again, so...'

One of reasons Rachel might be pretty much perfect is because she doesn't ask for details, just grumbles sympathetically and changes the subject.

'Ugh, another one... maybe your session today is playing on your mind... how are you feeling about that?'

Scared, if she's honest, because it is another test that she doesn't know if she will pass or fail, and being able to waggle her feet is all very well, but she hasn't stood up, or put any pressure at all, on her legs for almost five weeks, and Quinn's sure the transition won't be easy.

'I don't know, really...I don't think anything dramatic will happen after one session.'

Rachel seems to sigh at the truth of it, and Quinn can hear her padding across the room and then opening wardrobe doors, and smiles at how normal it feels, to listen to Rachel do normal things and have a normal conversation.

'You should never rule out dramatic outcomes Quinn, I like to imagine every hypothetical scenario to any event so if the unexpected does occur, I have an appropriate response prepared.'

Quinn snorts slightly, and lies back in her bed again, staring at the ceiling.

'You're insane, though, so...'

She can't hide the grin in her voice as she says it, and Rachel giggles a bit in response, before faking outrage.

'Well, just because some people can't appreciate the importance of fully analysing their emotions before reacting to a situation... have you decided what you are going to wear?'

Quinn lets the comment slide, (she can tell at some point she is going to receive a small heartfelt lecture about not nearly getting oneself killed because of sudden, last minute decision making) and instead glances over to the pile of clothes that forms her temporary wardrobe.

'Umm... no? Shorts and a t-shirt, maybe?'

Rachel clucks, apparently exasperated that Quinn hasn't given much thought to her attire for her first physical therapy session.

'That'd be satisfactory, I suppose, but I've been reading up on the process of re-learning how to walk, and a great deal of emphasis is placed on the individual's state of mind, and the importance of having a winning attitude towards this, and so I felt it would be crucial to wear clothing that you associate with success, in order to give you the best possible chance of making a full recovery, clothing that you are used to winning in, and therefore, despite any reservations you may have about it, I really do feel that...'

Quinn can see where this is going, and presses a hand to her face, gasping out a laugh.

'Rachel, I'm not going to physio wearing my Cheerios uniform.'

'Quinn! Be reasonable for a moment, that uniform doesn't restrict your movements, gives easy access to any parts of you that the physio person feels the need to examine for muscle tension...'

'Oh my god, stop talking, nobody is examining any of my parts today...'

'For muscle tension, nothing sinister about that, you have to demonstrate to them that you are an athlete, willing to push yourself to achieve success, oh and that reminds me, I've created a playlist of motivational songs and have linked you to them, so I thought maybe you could have them playing in the background in order to achieve the appropriate ambience?'

Quinn's ribs are hurting.

'Rachel, okay, please stop talking, my mom is sleeping in the room above me and I'm going to wake her if you keep making me laugh.'

Rachel huffs a bit at her, and then giggles.

'Fine, if you don't want my expert advice then...'

'Rachel, you can't Google your way to expert status. Just because you like picturing me in my cheerleading uniform doesn't mean...'

'Quinn Fabray!'

It's a good morning.

Her good mood almost lasts. Right up until the point the therapy starts, and Quinn realizes how completely useless she is.

It is somehow made worse by the fact that her mom is irritatingly up-beat about the whole thing. It takes Quinn an afternoon -the entire session- to figure out the combination of moves and technique required to ensure that she can now (limply, pathetically, like some beached seal pup) lever herself from her bed to her wheelchair, without any assistance.

Her good arm nearly cramps up on the journey home from the energy required, and Quinn feels like crying, at how hard everything suddenly is and will continue to be for the foreseeable future. And her mom is flicking through radio stations and humming along to every recognisable song like Quinn has just been awarded a Noble prize.

She wasn't even this happy when Quinn had received an offer from Yale, and that thought sets off a whole other host of questions that Quinn doesn't have the answer for, until the walls of the car start closing in and everything aches in a reflected memory of pain that her doctor says isn't real, but still hurts.

Quinn shifts, trying to find comfort, but because she's tired, and not concentrating, she tries to use the arm that's still in a sling, the one that is supposed to stay as still as possible while her shoulder blade knits itself back together, and that sends another flare of pain through her, and she hisses, trying to fight it.

Her mom seems to notice, and reaches over to squeeze gently at her knee, and it is almost more than Quinn can take.

'You're doing so well Quinn. I'm really proud of you.'

Quinn bites her tongue to try and not laugh, but can't stop the tears that squeeze themselves free.

She's always been healthy. She's always been fit. Even when she was about to pop with Beth, even when all of Lucy's puppy fat just wouldn't leave, she could still move. She could still dance. She could still take care of herself.

Having her wheelchair pushed around by her mom is the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to her, and she's been plenty humiliated in her life.

All of the embarrassment solidifies when Quinn realizes, through the haze of exhaustion and discomfort, that Rachel, and two friendly looking men who could only be Rachel's dads are waiting on their front porch, bunch of flowers being proffered towards them.

This isn't good. Quinn's mom presses a kiss to the top of her head (she hates that) and murmurs something about how she thought a celebration might be appropriate, given how well Quinn is doing. And all Quinn can think about is how selfish her mom is, wanting to flaunt her new-found sobriety to her new found friends, and how she suddenly, desperately, needs to be by herself, to get rid of the hospital stink and her grubby clothes and to sleep, sleep until she's fixed.

One of the dads smiles kindly at her, and Quinn can't quite look at any of them in the eye, not with the state she is in, but this dad feels the safest option.

'Hello. Your mom thought the month anniversary of your return to consciousness was a worthy excuse for a small celebratory gathering.'

He seems pleasant enough, and is charming enough to almost carry off one of the most macabre excuses for a congratulations she's ever heard.

Quinn tries though, mumbles a thank you and pushes some limp hair out of her eyes, but she feel disgusting, and this is not how she wanted to meet Rachel's dads. Hers eyes fill with tears at the thought (her emotions are out of control at the moment) and Rachel's other dad smiles sympathetically after a second, before speaking to her mom instead.

'Now then, Judy, my husband here has made a chocolate walnut cake which is crying out to be accompanied by a latte, if there is one available?'

From the way Quinn's mom laughs delightedly before she answers, Quinn can tell she's overjoyed with her new section of her social network.

'Of course, how kind of you. If you'd just like to follow us through to the sitting room, and then we can all sit down and get to know each other a bit better.'

She tries. Quinn's been trained well, there are certain social conventions that she is loath to break in front of her mom, but Quinn really isn't sure if she can cope with the pressure of speaking to Rachel's dads for an extended period of time when she is feeling (and smelling) like this.

'Mom, can I not... go make myself look a bit more presentable, and then I'll be with you?'

If she can just get to her room, she can fall asleep, or at least pretend to, and because Quinn is still an invalid that would be acceptable, and that means she can meet Rachel's dads when she can give a better account of herself.

Her mom presses another kiss to her head (she hates it) and squeezes her good shoulder in a manner that she probably believes is indulgent.

'Of course sweetie, and I'm sure Rachel won't mind helping you, come on Rachel, take over navigational duties.'

Rachel catches her eye, silently asking for permission, and Quinn grits her teeth and rolls her eyes, as if to say 'let's get this over with.'

It's not Rachel's fault. Quinn knows this, even as she motions for Rachel to shut the door after them, but it doesn't stop Rachel from launching into an apology speech the second they're closed off from everyone.

'Quinn, I'm really sorry, your mom called up my dads and invited them when I was at school, and so when I got home I pretty much just got flung into the car, they've been dying to meet you for ages, but I should have tried harder to make sure we didn't get here, look, I was looking up symptoms of meningitis on my phone, but the drive was too short for me to get fully into character and so...'

Quinn holds up her hand and smiles weakly at her, before gesturing at the heap of clothes on her floor.

'It's okay, just...do you think you could pass me a clean t-shirt from there? I probably don't smell too good.'

Rachel picks up one hesitantly, and Quinn nods, stretching to take it from her. She tosses it on the bed next to her, and starts the long process of getting rid of her old shirt. Rachel starts talking again, far too quickly.

'If you want I can leave, I don't want to encroach on your privacy in anyway, I know the shock of seeing us all stood there like the von Trapps must have been difficult, so if you need me to leave and eat cake with your mom that is one hundred percent fine, not that I want to leave, you understand, but I want to respect your wishes of non-nursing and so whatever you feel you need from the current situation is yours to request, I am totally accommodating to whatever at this point.'

Part of the difficult process of removing a t-shirt with only one arm available and the other in a sling involves a fair bit of tugging at hems with teeth, and Quinn drops the mouthful of fabric with a grunt and a roll of her eyes.

'Rachel, I don't need, or want to you to leave. Just...do whatever, for a moment, and then I'll have got this sorted.'

Rachel twists her fingers together for a second, but in the time it takes for Quinn to get the thing over her head and then re-emerge the other side, Rachel's suddenly taking a great interest in month old get well soon cards. There's a blush starting on Rachel's cheeks, and Quinn feels like telling her that she's only in a sports bra, that she's used to people seeing her in this, but she doesn't want to make Rachel feel awkward, and so just smiles to herself and eases the new shirt over her head.

After another few moments, she's left her sling arm still inside the shirt but everything else is as it should be, so Quinn clears her throat in a gentle suggestion that Rachel's display of chivalry can end now.

'So, um. I don't think I really want to go back out and do small talk with your dads, if that's okay? I sort of want to be perfect, when proper introductions happens.'

Rachel blushes again, and Quinn swears, she's not trying to make Rachel feel uncomfortable, or whatever is happening. She reaches for her bed and pats it, motioning Rachel to sit down. When Rachel is in touching distance, Quinn rubs a hand over Rachel's knee, squeezing gently.

'Hey... sorry about my complete failure to behave normally on the door step. I've had a bit of a rough day.'

Rachel scoots a bit closer, and tucks some hair behind her ears, biting her lip.

'Don't be silly, I'm just embarrassed at how eager my dads are to come and stare at you. I did tell them that you wouldn't want...'

Quinn shushes her with another squeeze, and tries to joke.

'Well, it is only understandable, I'm sure you have told them how amazing I am, they clearly couldn't keep away.'

Rachel grins softly at her, and then ducks her head down, hiding her eyes, and okay, now Quinn's blushing.

They haven't kissed yet. Quinn's made a small resolution to herself (one that gets increasingly harder to keep, every time she sees Rachel) that kisses should only happen when Quinn doesn't feel pathetic anymore, the idea of Rachel kissing her in her wheelchair seems to clash violently with whatever bizarre logic she's applying to the situation. Something about the idea of equal footing appeals to Quinn, and so far Rachel's done an excellent job of reading her mind, because Quinn hasn't felt pushed, or pressurized, at all.

But she wants to kiss her. So much, that sometimes she feels like she is made entirely of eggshells, and one glance or word from Rachel will have her fragmenting and opening up and taking whatever Rachel will give her, wheelchair or not.

Rachel meets her gaze after a second, and Quinn's line of thinking must be written clearly in her eyes, because it would be an awful first kiss, the angles all wrong and she still feels gross from the physio, but she wants it so much, so much she could turn inside out from need, so much her fingertips shake from their static position on Rachel's knee, and tremble with want.

Rachel glances at her lips once, and then reaches a hand down to press firmly at Quinn's hand, before standing up and stepping across the room, letting out a big shaky breath.

'So...tell me how physio went.'

Quinn blinks a few times, and shakes her head, trying to clear the fog, and spins in her chair slightly, enough to grab Rachel's wrist and squeeze once in silent gratitude.

'Well, no dramatic miracles, I'm afraid. I learned a new trick though, look, I'll show you...'

It takes her three goes to get successfully on the bed, but it isn't half as annoying as doing it in front of her mom, who would step in and help the second it seemed as though Quinn was struggling. Rachel hangs back, and watches, with only the gentlest of encouragement passing her lips, until Quinn's made the trickiest shift, now it is only about getting her legs up where they should be, and she feels bold enough to start a bit of a running commentary.

'See, now, my legs are still pretty non-responsive to big shifts, but if you can tell, it's not like they're being completely unhelpful anymore, they're trying to do the right things, I can feel my muscles straining at the right moments, the doctors think that's really good, so I've just got to be patient, and have a, ...what was it? A winning mentality and approach. So uhh, I didn't wear my Cheerios uniform but I did wear the underwear that goes with it, if that makes sense. Winning underwear.'

She gets herself settled on the bed, and looks over at Rachel, smiling. Rachel's got the oddest expression on her face, and just as Quinn starts to worry that the mention of her underwear has caused Rachel to short circuit again, Rachel stands and approaches quickly, pressing a kiss to the side of her head before Quinn can react.

'I'll never say this again while you are recovering because I've got a feeling you'll hate it but, I am so proud of you, and how you're approaching this. You're amazing.'

Quinn's got no response to that, other than a stammer, and Rachel takes advantage of her silence to arrange herself cross-legged at the bottom of her bed, and smile at her.

'Anyway, seeing as we've got a bit of time to ourselves, Santana has told me that Coach Sylvester has designed an excellent therapy routine with some really well thought out, personalized pamphlets to aid your recovery, I'd love to see them if you've got them available?'

Seriously. The second her legs are back under her control she is going to kick Santana's ass so hard she won't be able to sit down for a week.

The tiredness catches up with her quickly, after the initial embarrassment of watching Rachel sift through the literature Coach has given her (at one point Rachel just held up one of them with a really serious look on her face; the one entitled So, you think texting while driving is a good idea, huh? Think again RoadKill.') and Quinn finds herself fighting off sleep, sooner than she expected.

Rachel's talking her way through some of the more sensible advice Coach has given her, and Quinn is quite happy like this, drifting off to sleep with Rachel's voice in her ears, Rachel's warmth pressed up next to her feet, Rachel's hand gently rubbing at her ankle.

She hears her mom voice, maybe, and Rachel's warmth and smell shifts closer, and there's a soft hand smoothing down her cheek, and Quinn thinks she may have hummed in response, but maybe not.

After two more therapy sessions, Quinn invites Rachel along.

This is supposed to be the one that Quinn shifts from the supported walk machine (basically an adult version of the strollers toddlers are put in when they're first learning to walk) to crutches. The sling on her arms has been removed, and though she doesn't have full rotation in her left arm yet and things still feel a bit tender, her collar bone is all set and she's good to go.

Quinn's informed she'll get meds for the discomfort after she's invited Rachel to come support her.

And...this could go one of two ways.

'I feel like a horse with eight legs. Or, um, an octopus. But heavier, octopus always look really floaty and light, but I feel really heavy like a horse. Or a land dwelling, giant octopus.'

The meds are enough so that her shoulder isn't yelling its head off at her, but that also means that they're enough to make her say all the things that got her into trouble the last time. She re-focuses on Rachel, vital message to deliver.

'Rachel. Rach. I don't think you look like Pinocchio. Or any other in any way non-aese...non- athethetically...non-pretty creatures. And, um, once my legs stop jellying, I'm going to take you somewhere and maybe build some kind of castle slash monument as a tribute to how amazingly, amazing you are and...ow, stop.'

The nurse who keeps poking at her backside with something that may or may not be a cattle prod grumbles at her a bit, and prods again.

'Ow!'

'Stop moaning Quinn, it doesn't hurt, just stop talking and follow instructions.'

Outrage. Quinn finds Rachel, who's sitting in a plastic orangy chair on the other side of the room, and gives her a look specially designed to invite her to share in her outrage. Maybe it doesn't work fully, because Rachel appears to laugh a bit, before smoothing her face over and standing to join them.

Oh yeah, had she mentioned that yet? Standing. Altitude of the regular world; achieved.

And, well, hurting, but more from the fascist nurse woman than anything else.

Honestly, such a fuss. She doesn't need to walk, Quinn could just stand, and things could come to her. As it should be. There will also be platters of things, maybe celery sticks and vegan dip, she isn't sure, and Santana can be her secretary, while she signs things. Standing.

Rachel's talking. Focus!

'Quinn, she isn't attacking you. You're just not paying any attention to her, she's trying to get you moving.'

'I'm taller than you. Just like it used to be.'

This is apparently old news, from Rachel's face.

'Yes, well done. You also used to be able to run faster than me, which will now tragically never be the case as you have decided that you don't want to try walking.'

Quinn has a sneaking suspicion that some elaborate reverse psychology is being applied to her, but she really isn't that bothered because maybe this would be a good time to kiss Rachel, and her perfect face, for the first time ever.

Quinn leans forward, and Rachel steps backward, and Quinn only just...just manages to right herself.

'Rachel Berry, you need not to move all the time like some hyper-active lemming with a completely normal sized nose, I could have died! Actually died.'

Rachel is there, just out of reach, and Quinn heaves a really big dramatic sigh, in order to communicate to everyone present that this is entirely unfair, and squints really hard at her four legs.

Right crutch, right foot, left crutch, left foot. There.

When Quinn looks up, Rachel's moved again.

'Rachel! This is not hide and seek, just, stay there, this time.'

Again. Crutch foot crutch foot.

Rachel hasn't moved, but is still just out of reach, and Quinn's getting tired now.

Crutch foot crutch foot.

A marathon. A complete marathon, but it's okay, because Rachel's got her, is holding most of her up, as the nurse scrapes a chair across the floor until Rachel can tip Quinn down into it. And Quinn still wants to kiss her but remembers again that she's horribly sweaty and tired and uncomfortable, so maybe another day.

She settles for running a tired, sore hand through Rachel's hair, as Rachel crouches between her knees.

'Hey, hey, you're perfect. You're a perfect person. Which is lucky really because soon I'm going to be perfect again, and then we'll be perfect together and... don't cry, oh god, I'm sorry I called you a lemming.'

Rachel smiles at her, and reaches for the hand Quinn was running through Rachel's hair, and presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

'Happy tears, babe. They're happy ones.'

The next time Quinn sees Rachel, it's the following afternoon and she's remembered how to be sane.

Her mom seems to make a point of launching into a really loud and random speech outside Quinn's door before letting Rachel in, about how glad she is that Rachel is being so supportive of Quinn, and how happy she is that Quinn's got such wonderful people in her life. Quinn interrupts her after a moment, in case it produces a similar response from Rachel and the two of them just end up soliloquizing about their feelings. She yells through the door.

'Okay Mom, we all get it, you like Rachel. You don't have to keep telling me!'

Her mom opens the door with a flourish, and they're both there, her mom looking ridiculous and Rachel looking vaguely affronted.

'Quinn, never interrupt someone who is telling me I'm marvellous, it's just common coursty.'

Quinn rolls her eyes and throws one of Rachel's cushions at her head, before staring pointedly at her mom.

'Bye, mom.'

Rachel replaces the cushion carefully, and sets down what looks like a rather large amount of bags for what was supposed to be a 'quick visit'.

'You haven't made vegan muffins again have you? Because I haven't finished the last batch...'

Rachel snorts at her, and leans down into her chair (not her wheelchair, Quinn is trying to spend as little time as possible in it, these days) to hug her hello. Quinn manages to hug back, with one strong arm and one weak, but it still counts.

'No, you ungrateful oaf, I have not made muffins, you have made your feelings about them quite clear. It's mainly stuff from school, actually, forms to fill in to do with Yale, like we talked about yesterday.'

Quinn blinks at Rachel carefully, and peers at the bag that seems to contain a number of folders.

'What did we talk about yesterday? I don't remember that conversation.'

Rachel shrugs and tugs the bag over towards them, and starts setting folders out on Quinn's desk.

'It was pretty late on, you were probably tired after all of your announcements about feeling like a horse and accusing the friendly nurse of assault.'

Quinn grimaces.

'I'm pretty sure I apologized as we left.'

'Yes, you apologized that she had a face like a horse. I think you were mixing your similes up at that stage.'

Oh, great. Quinn groans, and covers her eyes.

'I believe I asked you to never to refer to the things I say when I'm on meds.'

'And I believe I refused to make such a limiting promise. Anyway, on the way back you were mumbling about Yale, and how sad you were that you wouldn't be able to ignore their wheelchair ramps in the Fall, and I may have filled in a few gaps, so I went to Miss Pillsbury this lunch time.'

Quinn raises an eyebrow at Rachel, and flips open a folder curiously, reading the first page in silence. Rachel stumbles on after a moment.

'I appreciate that you may think I'm over-stepping the mark, but it would be foolish to pretend that the accident, and your time off school, isn't going to potentially affect your exam results. So, um, there's quite a few forms to fill in, and doctors have to sign things as well, but your situation qualifies for special dispensation. If you want it.'

If she wants it. Quinn frowns at the paper work, and flicks over another page, biting absent-mindedly at the tip of her thumb. After a minute or so, and Rachel seems to decide this was a bad idea, and starts gathering folders together. Quinn reaches for her wrist, stopping her.

'Hey. Leave them. I'll think about it. I'll speak to my mom, and... think about it, okay? Thank you.'

Rachel looks away from her, blinking away tears that Quinn is pretty sure she didn't cause.

'Sorry, it's just, I'm selfish, I don't want this to stop you getting what you deserve.'

Quinn stares up at her for a moment, and then rubs a thumb over the back of Rachel's hand.

'What's that then? Reasonable commuting distance to New York?'

Rachel bites her lip and looks down at her, and Quinn's heart unexpected jumps with nerves, because it is the first time either of them have mentioned anything tangible about the next year, about what happens next. Rachel just hums, after a moment, and re-arranges their hands so she can squeeze Quinn's.

'Among other things... but yes, that.'

There's a moment, but Quinn looks away deliberately, and Rachel's other bag.

'That isn't another bag of folders, is it? Because I'm not very good at forms.'

Rachel laughs at her, and drops her hand, stepping toward them.

'Oh no, this was the other thing you agreed to on the way home...'

'Define agreed, Rachel.'

Rachel carefully produces a sweatband that matches the one she herself has recently donned, and wiggles it onto Quinn's head without asking.

'Well, I said, now that you have movement, and muscle strength is going to become an issue, maybe you should start working our way through the exercises Coach Sylvester gave you. And then I thought maybe I should accompany you with them, as a bonding exercise. And you definitely made a noise that sounded like yes.'

Rachel leans back to observe her handiwork, and Quinn can tell the sweatband is askew on her forehead. Rachel's expression takes on the look of someone trying not to laugh, and Quinn frowns at her, biting the inside of her cheek to not smirk at how equally ridiculous Rachel currently looks.

'Shut up.'

The first exercise they attempt starts with them lying on the floor. It's a bit of a struggle to get down there without just deliberately falling off her chair, but Quinn makes it, and then wiggles herself over to where Rachel's waiting, feet resting against the flat of the wall, frowning at the instruction that she's holding above her head to read.

'It says that this is good for the Quadriceps Femoris, as well as the muscles in your backside, which are the basic ones required to walk, so we'll start with these.'

Quinn looks over at her from her horizontal position, taking in the gym kit Rachel has chosen to change into for the exercise.

'Can I just clarify, before we start, that I think you are insane.'

Rachel flaps a hand dismissively, as if to say yes yes, I know, and puts the paperwork to one side.

'Right, we're suppose to walk our legs up the wall, shifting forward with each step, until we get to vertical with our backsides against the wall, and then back down again. Apparently, you will probably need to use your arms to lift your legs for the first few repetitions.'

Quinn grunts in recognition, already aware that her legs feel far too heavy for the routine, and jerks forward to lift, concentrating on keeping her legs straight so her feet stay pressed to the wall and don't just crumble down on top of her.

She gets, after about a minute, to a foot and a half off the floor before gravity is too much.

'Fuck.'

Rachel matches, and slides up to the starting position.

'Awesome, that was good. So, it says one minute recovery time, and then we start again.'

It's brutal, back breaking work.

Quinn manages forty five minutes of it, with sweat pouring off her, and never quite reaches vertical. On her last attempt she's only a couple of steps away though, and can feel the muscles in her thighs and butt straining with the stress.

She's completely out of breath, and waves a hand to indicate that that's it, enough. Rachel wiggles her way up, and Quinn can tell she isn't even having to breathe hard, that this is a complete doable exercise for anyone with normal control of their bodies.

The thought makes tears rise, and she presses the heel of her palm to her eyes to try and prevent them. Rachel sees though, and reaches for her, running her fingers over Quinn's ribcage in a soothing gesture.

'Hey, hey. You're doing really well.'

Quinn grumbles at the ceiling, and then removes Rachel's hand.

'Not well enough though. None of this is going fast enough, and I'm missing out on everything.'

Rachel looks really confused, and Quinn clarifies a bit.

'I'm missing out on you. I'm missing out on being normal with you.'

Rachel half laughs, and runs a gentle hand down the side of Quinn's cheek.

'I'm right here, Quinn. You aren't missing out on anything.'

She is though. The ache is back, the need to press her lips to Rachel's, and to hell with the consequences. Quinn looks at the ceiling, avoiding temptation.

'I...I really want to kiss you. All the time. Every time you look at me, or smile at something that I've said. But I don't want to be like this when it happens. I don't want our first kiss to be me straining my neck because I'm in a chair, or you having to lean down. I just want us to be equal, and it feels ages away.'

Rachel's fingers tremble a bit on her cheek, and Quinn shuts her eyes.

'It... it won't be that long Quinn. You're making so much progress and...'

Rachel trails off, and eventually Quinn turns her neck to look at her again. Rachel blushes suddenly, and looks away, as if a thought has just struck her.

'We're pretty equal now, huh?'

Quinn's eyes widen, and she feels the slow burn that flickers inside her whenever she is around Rachel double, start tearing up her insides.

'Rachel, I'm sweaty, and disgusting, and on reflection I'm not sure when Mom last vacuumed the floor because the noise annoyed me the last time she tried, so...'

Rachel reaches for her hand, tangling her fingers.

'Do you really think I care about that? Because, I don't know about you, but I feel like I'm slowly going crazy from being with around you but not being able to kiss you, and I've never been very good at being patient...'

'Rachel, it's, it should be perfect for you, it should be...'

Rachel rolls her eyes, and when did they get this close?

'Who says it won't be perfect? And, how on earth is it that you're the one doing too much talking in this scenario? Our track record indicates...'

To Quinn, it is almost as if something breaks inside her, and she reaches to close the gap, meeting Rachel's lips with hers.

It's soft, too soft almost, and Quinn just stays there for a moment, before remembering how to breath and tilting her head and kissing Rachel again.

Rachel mumbles 'cheater' into Quinn's lips, and Quinn feels her mouth stretch into a smile, and just hovers her lips a bare millimetre from Rachel's, until Rachel parts her lips and kisses her back.

Quinn can hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears, and reaches a hand up to trace down the side of Rachel's face, over the curve of her ear and then down her neck to her shoulder. Rachel sighs against her lips, and Quinn nudges forward, capturing Rachel's bottom lip with her teeth and then sucking, gently.

Rachel actually moans slightly at that, moans, and Quinn's aware that this is nowhere near enough, (possibly nothing will ever be enough, from now on) because she's got her head craned right around to be able to maintain the kiss, and the rest of her is still flat against the floor. She wants to be pressed against Rachel, she wants contact from head to toe, just to know, just to prove that she's brave enough for this, brave enough for Rachel.

The leverage is impossible though, all she wants to do is twist herself around so they're both on their sides, but her legs haven't got the strength (yet) and Quinn's not getting there alone.

Breaking the kiss only to catch Rachel's hand with her own, Quinn murmurs 'pull' against Rachel's lips. Rachel pulls, and Quinn pushes, and she's there, rolling up onto her side, and Rachel follows suit, and this is all she ever needed, Rachel in her arms, kissing her back.

It's pretty much perfect.

Quinn realizes that everything is pretty much perfect.