Quinn spends the next three days at home in bed. She just feels exhausted and achy and sick to her stomach. There's crying, too. But it comes in these weird, short little bursts at the oddest times.

Mostly she just lies there with the blankets pulled over her head and waits for something to happen.

On the fourth day, she feels a dip at the foot of the bed and pulls the covers back to see Brittany and Santana sitting there, biting their fingernails and nervously glancing from each other to her and then back to each other again.

"I'm sick," she groans.

"No," Santana replies sternly. "You're not. What's wrong with you?"

Wearily, she scoots up so that she's sitting with her back against the headboard, but almost immediately, she doubles over in a dry, coughing sob that rattles its way through her ribcage. "I don't know; I don't know what this is."

There's the surprisingly soothing feel of Brittany's hand petting the back of her head. "Do you sort of feel like you have the flu and like...the worst PMS ever at the same time?"

She nods.

"I think your heart's broken, Q."

Quinn sighs deeply into the truth she's been avoiding. Of course her heart is broken. She hadn't felt this way with Finn. Hasn't felt this way ever; didn't think she was capable of it.

And now, here she is, heartbroken over Rachel Berry.

"If it makes you feel any better," Santana says, hesitantly, "I think this is how you're supposed to feel."

Something about the absurdity of that statement sets an incoherent train of thought loose in her mind. Her head pops up, and she launches forward, her fists clattering against Santana's collar bones.

"This is all your fault!" she hears herself screaming. "You put these thoughts in my head! You made me like this! And then you sent me over there to be humiliated! Well, I hope you're happy now! You got what you wanted!"

Her words trail off as another dry sob rips its way out of her chest, and the force behind her fists weakens considerably. Brittany firmly pulls her backward, shushing her and brushing her sweaty, matted hair back off her forehead. When Brittany begins to rock her ever so gently, the crying starts in earnest. Fat, salty tears that leave the skin on her face sticky and burning. Though her eyes are shut tight, she hears Santana run from the room, down the stairs, and out the front door.

Brittany stays until she's fallen asleep again.

The following afternoon, there's a knock on the door, and she opens it to find Santana standing there, hair down, tired-eyed, with a Tupperware bowl full of some sort of soup.

"It'll help open up your lungs," she offers with a shrug, pushing the bowl into Quinn's hands.

Quinn takes the bowl and turns, heading off toward the kitchen, but she leaves the door open for Santana to follow. She's ladling the steamy, spicy-smelling soup into two oversized mugs when Santana finally takes a seat at the kitchen table.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Quinn asks bashfully, setting a mug in front of Santana, not yet ready to look her in the eyes.

Santana just shakes her head quickly, lifting the mug to her mouth and blowing on the soup to cool it off. Quinn takes a full swig from her mug and immediately begins coughing uncontrollably. Santana's eyes go wide and she leans forward, but stops herself short of making any sort of physical contact.

When Quinn finally catches her breath, she says, "I know you didn't make me-," the words that had only just become somewhat comfortable now suddenly seem elusive again, "-like this," she breathes out. "I don't know why I said that."

She looks right at Santana then and asks the real question, "But you knew she wasn't, didn't you? And you told me I should go over there anyway?"

Santana sighs, setting down her mug. "I didn't-I mean-who the hell knows what's going on with Berry half the time anyway. And I just thought, if she wanted to kiss you...and I knew you wanted to kiss her. I just-I didn't think that she would hurt you like that."

Quinn takes another tentative sip, letting the warmth spread through her lungs and down her spine.

"I don't even think she realizes what happened," Santana continues, rolling her eyes and letting out a little huff. "I've had to stop her from coming over here twice because she thinks you're actually sick."

There's that swell in Quinn's chest again that temporarily cuts off her air supply and sends tears springing to her eyes.

"I'm coming back on Monday," she says, forcing down another gulp of soup. "But I'm quitting Glee Club."

After a moment, Santana lets out a deep breath. "Yeah."