-/-
When I head back out into the waiting room, I get the sensation that I'm walking on glass; as if I could step too heavy and fall through the floor.
Will is not sitting, instead he stands leant against the wall with his head bowed and his hands shoved in his pockets. When I come through the doorway, he looks up suddenly; anxious. He doesn't say anything, probably doesn't even know what to say in the first place, so he just keeps looking at me until I speak.
I sigh a relieved smile. "It's okay. The baby's okay."
Will exhales, his face softening from the hard expression he's had since we got here. "What happened?" he finally asks.
I crinkle my nose. "The doctor said that a piece of my hymen hadn't broken off completely and the force of the fall dislodged it. Everything is fine now, they just had to flush out the, uh...remnants."
"Oh," he blinks hard. "Hey, have you called your dads about all this?"
"Yes. I just got off the phone with one of them," I say. Then I notice the beige-colored clock on the wall. "Shit, I'm going to be late for work."
I start into the hallway to the lobby, Will following behind. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him and I sense something off. "What?" I ask him.
He shrugs, shaking his head. "I just didn't know that you have a job. Or that you swear."
"Well, I didn't do either until all of this happened," I reply pointedly.
The rest of the walk is silent until we get into his car in the hospital parking lot. It occurs to me for the first time today that the last time I was in his car, he made me ride in the backseat. And that was just two days before it happened.
Will pulls out of the space with a jerk, hard enough that my hand flies out against the door for support. He must be tense. We get back on the street, and he remains this way.
"It's a girl," I say after awhile. "I don't think I've told you that yet, I've been meaning to."
He presses his lips together, not looking away from the road. "Ah...no, you haven't. That's...great."
I wonder if he's drawing a parallel to the last time someone told him he was having a daughter. I know for a fact that his reaction then was much more than a hesitant 'that's great', but I'm not naive and I realize the difference between the imaginary baby with his wife and mine. There will always be a difference.
"Look, Rach," he starts slowly. "I just- I want to say how sorry I am for what I said last month. That was extremely juvenile of me, I shouldn't have acted like I did."
My mouth is dry. I know that it shouldn't require courage to say what I'm about to, but I consciously search for it.
"Um, about that," comes out hoarsely. "Will, what you said, uh... You've given me a lot to think about, with everything going on. I keep thinking about what Quinn's doing, how she doesn't have anybody, and I don't want that. And after today...I...god, I don't know what to say. I-"
"You want to be with me," he finishes softly. We come to a stop in the deserted high school parking lot, he shuts off the car. He looks over at me with wide eyes. "Rach, are you sure?"
"Honestly," I answer, "no. I'm not sure at all. Pretty terrified, actually. I'm just thinking this would be best for the baby."
"It's not because-"
"That too," I cut off. "That too. But I'm going to be a mother, Will. My best interest is in the well-being of my daughter. And a girl needs her dad." The last part tapers off into a whisper.
Will nods slowly, staring at his lap. Why can't I shake the feeling that I'm betraying myself?
"So...we're together?" he eventually asks, quietly. I audibly sigh. Why is this so difficult? Am I really doing the right thing? This all seems so bizarre-
Stop. I've made up my mind. I did a long time ago, I think.
"Yes."
-/-
We get out of the car, the sound of the doors shutting echoing in the hollow parking lot. It is the only sound.
Will comes around to the passenger side and leans against the door after I close it. "What happens now?" he asks me.
I shake my head. "I don't know. I guess we should discuss this."
"Okay," he says. "Well, what's your schedule like?"
"I work at Paula's Diner on the weekdays, four to eight. So I can't really see you after school."
"Waitressing?" He breaks the seriousness with a small smirk. "I never saw Rachel Berry as a waitressing-type."
I roll my eyes. "Well I never saw Rachel Berry as a knocked up-type either, but here we are," I retort.
He chuckles. "So are your weekends good?"
"Well, my dads are definitely more strict now," I admit. "Especially since I told them I got drunk at a party and don't know who the father is. But I could use Quinn as an alibi."
God, this is the farthest thing from what you do when you start dating someone. I feel like I'm talking about business or something! Then again, are we really 'dating'? I think we're somewhat past that stage by now.
"It's so strange that you two are best friends now," he marvels. "I mean, it makes sense obviously, but you guys used to be at each other's throats just a couple months ago."
"That was before all of this baby drama humbled her and we were still fighting over Finn. It is weird, though," I say.
He raises an eyebrow. "Speaking of Finn-"
I dismiss it, shaking my head. "We went out to Breadstix and unanimously decided that we make really good friends. I have to admit, I was really only trying to make you mad."
"Understandable."
I clear my throat, it's starting to feel dry. "What about you?"
"My schedule?" he clarifies. "Rach, I'm sorry to break it to you, but I have no life outside of my work. In the middle of a divorce, remember?"
He stiffens as soon as he finishes, and I know he instantly regrets mentioning it. But I really couldn't care less. After all we've been through, can mentioning something like this really be deemed uncomfortable? Nevertheless, I change the subject.
"What are we going to do when she's born?" I inquire. "It's not like you can be there without my family knowing you're the father."
Will twists his mouth. "Then I guess I can't be there." He looks thoughtful for a second. "God, I can't have custody either. When am I even going to be around her?"
Well damn. "I hadn't even thought about that," I truthfully reply. "I don't know."
"Is there any possibility that your dads would be...accepting?"
"I don't think so," I say. "I'm pretty certain they'd have you arrested even if they didn't know about the rape."
His face darkens when I say this. "Rachel, I just hope that you know-"
"You won't ever do it again," I interrupt. "I know. You've told me a dozen times. Anyway, this isn't about me, remember?"
There's a long silence. "I don't know what we're going to do," I then say. "We'll have to worry about it later."
I see him suppress a sigh. "Rachel, that's not true, you know. The part about this not being about you. I'd like to think that we're not getting together just because of the baby, but if you think otherwise this relationship isn't going to last."
"I don't," I protest. "You know fully well about how I feel. We just...we need to look at our situation with practicality. This is still hard for me, Will. I can't just jump into this."
He nods. "I understand," he says. "But don't feel like you have an obligation for the baby. This is more than that."
A particularly cold gust of wind hits the side of the car, sending my hair sprawling across my face. Will brushes it back with careful fingertips.
I look up at him when he does this, specifically into his eyes. It's strange how fixated I've always been about them. But they always seem to keep changing. At first they were a fresh, spring color and I was innocent; a naive schoolgirl with a playful crush on her teacher. Then they were dark and hollow, and they reminded me of nothing but the feeling of terror and being alone. In my nightmares they turned electric, neon. Then after everything died down they returned to the spring color. Now, I don't know how to describe them. Translucent, maybe. Crisp.
Does he look at my eyes the same way? I don't know how many variations you can get from brown, if any. But he's looking at them now, like he can see straight through them and into my core.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks. His voice is husky, low. I don't have to say anything to give him an answer.
He cups my jaw with one hand and kisses me. It's soft and slow, and something is different. People talk about seeing fireworks when they kiss someone, feeling sparks fly. All I feel is numb.
Suddenly, a car door slams.
"What the hell?!"
-/-