If the Roles Were Reversed

Quinn stands at the front of the church. She's nervously wringing her hands behind her back, wondering why her palms decided to get sweaty on this day, of all days.

Beautiful piano music is echoing all around her. Her friends are sitting out in the pews, chatting amongst themselves while Quinn stands alone, nervously fidgeting and shifting her weight from foot to foot in an antsy dance of anticipation. Suddenly, a soft voice speaks from behind her.

"You seem awfully nervous, Q."

Quinn turned her head slightly over her shoulder to look at her guest. "Santana," she sighed out, turning fully to face one of her best friends in the entire world.

Santana gave her a bright smile. Her face was soft and beautiful, her make-up was light, and her hair was delicately framing her face. She was the perfect Best Man. "Hey," Santana said, brow furrowing ever so slightly when she saw Quinn's eyes becoming watery. "What's wrong, sweetheart? You've been looking forward to this day for so long."

Quinn bit her lip and nodded, trying to suppress her overly-emotional reaction. "I know, I know. You're absolutely right. I'm excited," she beamed, her teeth showing brilliantly in a smile – a smile that conveyed her true excitement, hidden beneath her nervous anticipation.

Santana laughed. "I know you're excited, Q. She'll be out soon. I'll go double-check with Brittany to see what the holdup is, ok?"

Quinn simply nodded in response, reaching out and grasping Santana's hand briefly in her own – and reveling in the slight squeeze of reassurance that the other girl gave her – before Santana was moving off down the aisle and through the large doors at the entrance to the room. The sound of the door clicking into place finally broke Quinn's gaze – she blinked and turned to look around at everyone gathered on her side of the church.

And suddenly, her father was standing right in front of her.

"Daddy," Quinn said, smiling shyly.

"My Quinnie," he said with a proud, adoring smile on his face. "Such a big day for you."

Quinn blushed and ducked her head to her chest. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, it really is." Looking back up at her father, she smiled through her eyelashes.

"I love you," Russell said. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

"I know, Daddy. That's what you've said since I was a little girl."

And then the doors at the entrance to the church swung open. The piano stopped playing its light, lilting melody and instead switched to an appropriate tune for the bridesmaids to walk down the aisle. Colby dropped rose petals in front of her as she approached Quinn at the alter – smiling brightly all the while – accompanied by a cute little boy carrying the rings. Quinn kissed Colby lightly on the forehead as the girl stood expectantly at her side. Quinn smiled at Tina and Artie as they made their way towards the alter. They were followed by Kurt and Mercedes. And then there was Brittany, her hand lightly clutching at Santana's elbow.

The piano stopped entirely before the bridal march started. Everyone stood. Quinn felt her heart stop.

Rachel walked around the corner, each of her hands gripping the arms of her fathers on either side of her. Quinn's heart started back up, racing a thousand miles a minute.

As Rachel got closer, her eyes locked with Quinn's. The brunette smiled brightly – with her entire face and her entire heart and her entire being – and Quinn returned the smile, just as brightly. She felt herself breaking apart at the sheer beauty walking down the aisle towards her. She had managed not to cry – until now.

Suddenly, Russell was standing directly behind her shoulder. He was whispering in her ear, and it was a voice that shook Quinn to her very core. It was cold and harsh and malicious. It was evil. "I will do whatever it takes to save your soul."

And before Quinn could even turn around to look her father in the eye, he was stepping around her and raising a gun. He was pointing it at Quinn's girlfriend, her fiancée, her future wife.

Quinn had time to register the shocked expression on Rachel's face before a gunshot rang out.

Running down the aisle, Quinn almost tripped over her heels. She fell to her knees at Rachel's side. Blood was blossoming against the white fabric of Rachel's elegantly stunning dress. The bodice now looked as if it had purposefully been dyed in wine. But it was Rachel's blood – it was Rachel's life – soaking through and staining it.

And then Quinn's hands were gently cupping Rachel's face. And she was telling her to stay strong, to hold on, to not give up, to not leave her. Colby ran up and touched Rachel's hair, confusion glinting strongly in her eyes as she stared up into Quinn's face.

Rachel's eyes fluttered open – an action that would normally make Quinn swoon instead caused her to cry – and she attempted to latch onto one of Quinn's hands with one of her own. Quinn grabbed onto Rachel's searching hand and placed it on her cheek. "Rachel," she gasped out. "Baby," she said. "Just hold on."

"I am holding on," Rachel gasped out.

"Keep holding on," Quinn said.

"I'm trying," Rachel breathed.

And then she blinked once, twice – her eyes didn't open again. And Quinn screamed.

Quinn woke in the uncomfortable hospital chair – the shocking feeling of falling had woken her. She remembered her dream in vivid clarity in those moments after her nightmare – those moments when she found herself clutching at the chair's armrests and attempting to calm her erratic heartbeat and control her labored breaths. But as the second hands on the clock opposite her continued ticking, round and round, she found that it was already fading.

Let it fade, she thought. Just let it fade…

It was late in the evening – no, Quinn mentally corrected herself, squinting again at the clock. It's well into the morning at this point. She was alone in Rachel's hospital room. It was a private room, one that Rachel had been moved to after her mandatory two hours in the recovery ward of the hospital. She was stable, they had said. Marcus had patted Quinn lovingly on the shoulder, squeezing once. He had been here, in this room, before Quinn had fallen asleep. But, Quinn noted while looking at the clock, that was hours ago. She stood, stretching her arms above her head, before reaching behind her and scooting the chair right up against Rachel's bed.

She resumed sitting in her chair, staring at her girlfriend. Rachel's skin was pale. Her tiny hands were resting on top of the blanket that was covering her. Quinn wondered if she was comfortable. Her hair was splayed out on the pillow underneath her head. Quinn saw a stray lock dangling against Rachel's cheek – she brushed it back with her fingers, afraid that it was tickling the other girl, even in her sleep. She just looked so fragile and small.

Quinn begrudgingly tore her eyes away from Rachel's face. She reached out with both of her hands and reverently grasped one of Rachel's between her own. She kissed each of Rachel's knuckles, brushing her lips against every inch of skin that she could.

She didn't know she was crying until the tears were dropping down onto the hospital bed beneath her.

One of Rachel's fingers twitched underneath Quinn's, and her eyes immediately sought out Rachel's face. "Rach?" she whispered quietly. She was met with a slight squeeze to her hand, the shifting of Rachel's head a few centimeters. "Baby?" Quinn questioned again.

Rachel's lips parted slightly, a moan escaping her throat. As consciousness began to sweep across her, it was followed closely by the unmistakable lances of pain from somewhere below her waist. She felt like she was on fire as she became more and more aware of her senses. But as she became more aware, she also realized that she wasn't alone.

Quinn nearly cried out in relief when she felt the unmistakably purposeful gripping of her fingers at Rachel's side. Well, she did cry out – there was no nearly about it. "Rach," Quinn attempted to muffle her voice so as to not startle her girlfriend. "Oh my God, I'm so glad you're awake."

Rachel opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to rid her throat of desert-like dryness. "Getting there," she croaked out.

Immediately, Quinn released Rachel's hand and ran around to the other side of the bed, pouring some cool water into a small Styrofoam cup. Hopefully she won't notice it's Styrofoam, Quinn thought. She'll be absolutely appalled.

"Here's some water," Quinn said. "Can you drink?"

Rachel nodded her head slightly. Quinn reached forward, cupping one hand gently around the back of Rachel's head and pressing the cup lightly to the girl's lips. Rachel sipped the proffered water, reveling in the soothing coolness as it slid down her throat. As Quinn lowered the half-empty cup back down onto her bedside table, Rachel let out a sigh. She swallowed a couple of times while Quinn walked back around to her chair on the other side of the bed, sitting down and grasping Rachel's hand again.

Finally, Rachel spoke – and her voice was almost as clear as it was on any other day. "I can't believe you let me drink out of a Styrofoam cup," she said. Quinn bit her lip, trying to control a laugh that would have been full of relief and coated with sadness. "That cup isn't biodegradable, you know. It'll be around long after you and I are gone."

Quinn stood up and leaned over the railing, placing a soft, lingering kiss against Rachel's forehead. She cupped Rachel's cheek in her palm. "Which is going to be a long time from now," Quinn said. "Hi," she added, a shy smile on her lips.

Pulling back, Quinn looked into the startling pools of brown that were Rachel's eyes – she hadn't realized just how much she had missed those eyes. "Hi back," Rachel replied. "Why are you crying?"

"Am I?" Quinn wiped at her cheeks, looking down at her moist fingertips. "I am…"

"Yes," Rachel said. "You are. And I'd very much appreciate you being less sad."

"Rach…" Quinn trailed off, unable to voice her thoughts. You almost died! she wanted to scream. You almost bled out in our high school parking lot! You were in surgery for hours! My father did this to you… My father! But she didn't say it. She didn't say any of it. She couldn't.

But Rachel had always been special. Rachel had always been able to look into Quinn's eyes and pick apart her thoughts. It was cliché. And it was sometimes annoying. And she did it now, and Quinn felt like running away. But, of course, she couldn't do that – not really.

"Quinn, it's not your fault."

Quinn didn't respond. She only ducked her head down against her chest, covering her eyes with one of her hands.

"Quinn," Rachel reiterated. "It's not your fault." An emphasis on every word.

Quinn nodded but still refused to lower her hand. Rachel attempted to reach up with her own hand, leaning forward slightly in the process. This action resulted in her crying out in pain and dropping her hands – now clenched into tight fists – back down by her sides.

"Oh geez," Rachel hissed out between her tightly clamped teeth. She moaned as the pain that had initially grown and then faded as her consciousness surfaced now attacked her senses again in full force.

Quinn immediately felt guilty, reaching forward to press the button for the nurses' station and wishing that Marcus was here to help Rachel. After the button had been pushed, Quinn cupped Rachel's face in her hands, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and trying to help her get through the pain she had experienced while unknowingly attempting to move her severely damaged limb.

Finally – after the nurse had come and given Rachel a hefty dose of pain medication – Rachel had mumbled, "Well, she said it wasn't going to be easy…" under her breath. Quinn had raised an eyebrow, but hadn't questioned her about it.

As the nurse was walking out of the room, Quinn asked, "Is Marcus around?"

"Yes, he's in room 206" the nurse had replied, turning to face both of the girls. "With his husband."

"Thank you," Quinn had said, turning back to Rachel as the nurse left. "I'm glad you got some pain medication, I can't even imagine…" Quinn sighed. "You'll probably fall asleep soon. From what I remember, it's pretty heavy stuff."

But Rachel was gazing at Quinn now, directly into her eyes. And Quinn was beginning to feel more than a little unsettled about the situation. "Rach?" she questioned. "What's wrong?"

Rachel opened and closed her mouth once before steeling her resolve and asking, "Why is Daddy in room 206?"

Quinn tried to hide her slight flinch at Rachel's question, but she failed miserably.

"Quinn." With one word – with one syllable filled with fear and the need to know and the potential for heartbreak – Quinn fell apart. She started bawling like a toddler, unable to control her breathing as her body was wracked with sobs.

"My dad shot your dad too, Rachel," Quinn cried out. "He's ok. Brendon's ok. But he shot him…" Quinn trailed off, unable to continue. She was choking on her guilt, unable to swallow past the lump in her throat. She was scared to look at her girlfriend – she was afraid of the rejection she knew would be swimming in Rachel's eyes.

"Quinn." And again – like her voice had some magical pull that Quinn couldn't fight – Quinn was looking at Rachel. She was looking at Rachel and wondering how on earth – when the girl had been shot and had been in surgery for hours and hadn't brushed her hair or fixed her make-up – she could look like such a goddess. Quinn's breath was literally taken away. And there was no rejection in her eyes. There was just love. "Come here," Rachel said gently, patting the bed on her right side – her uninjured side.

Quinn walked around the side of the bed and crawled underneath the covers. Ever so gently, she wrapped her arms around Rachel, resting her head in the crook of her girlfriend's shoulder as Rachel wrapped her right arm around her. "You're comfortable," Quinn mumbled against the fabric of Rachel's hospital gown.

Rachel grinned against Quinn's hair. The medication was beginning to work its magic, and Rachel was feeling more than just a little drowsy. "Quinn," she began. "You can't feel bad about what your father did. I'm ok." She paused. "My Daddy is ok." Quinn gently caressed Rachel's baby bump. "Colby is ok," Rachel breathed out into the air between them.

Quinn looked up questioningly at Rachel. "Colby?" she asked. Rachel nodded. Quinn smiled brilliantly, settling her head back down on Rachel's shoulder. "Then yes, Colby is ok."

A few moments passed in silence. "Rach?" Quinn questioned. When she didn't get any answer, Quinn raised her head. Rachel's eyes were shut, and her breathing was evening out. She lightly brushed her fingertips over Rachel's cheek, her nose, her lips. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered. "Good night."

And together, they slept. There were no dreams, but there were no nightmares either.