When my phone buzzes in the cupholder, I feel it vibrating against my knee before I actually hear it. Then my eyes open up slowly and my legs are cramping because I've been laying in one spot for too long.

I don't know exactly when I fell asleep, but I know I must have cried until I was tired because my eyes are still itchy and heavy and they only feel like this whenever I wake up after crying myself to sleep. I have to wipe a little bit of drool off my chin with the back of my hand and unravel myself from my blanket before my hands are free and I'm able to grab my phone.

The caller ID on my screen says "Your Mom", but I'm really just concerned about the time. I never meant to fall asleep. I was just supposed to stay in the parking garage until I got all my tears out of my system because I'm a long way from home and driving an hour while I'm crying just seemed dangerous. I guess it doesn't really matter what time I get home anymore because I'm not going to be any more or less grounded if I come home in an hour or two hours. It's almost 1:30 in the morning and it's safe to say I'm not going to school today. I wouldn't be able to concentrate in school anyway.

I yawn a little bit, then swipe my finger across the screen to answer my phone. I don't have enough energy or sense about myself after waking up to hold the phone to my ear, so I put it on speaker phone instead.

"Hello?" My voice is almost gone and it sounds really raspy, probably from all the yelling and crying I've done recently.

"Hey sweetie, you're finally answering your phone." She sounds like she's in the car. I hear air gushing all around her and her voice sounds like it's far away so either she's outside or she's driving in her car. Driving seems more plausible at this hour of the night/early morning. "I got your text and I've been calling you nonstop. What's going on? Is it about Quinn?"

"Sorry," I sit upright and stretch out my legs so I can have this conversation. "I must've fallen asleep as soon as I texted you, I… I was tired. Is what about Quinn?"

"You said you wanted to talk. In your text, you asked me if I was awake because you needed to talk. What's the matter? Is it about Quinn?"

"You heard?"

"I was worried about you, I called her phone because I thought she might know where you were." I hear the steady ticking of a turn signal in the background and that's when I'm certain that she's in the car. "Mercedes answered and told me what's been going on. I'm on my way right now, but I still wanted to talk to you. Are you okay?"

"You're on your way here?" That really wakes me up. I was groggy before and sort of contemplating on going right back to sleep because when I sleep, I don't have to worry about Mercedes hating me and what a horrible person I am. I'm wide awake now, though. "Like, here as in Dayton?"

"Yeah. Mercedes told me they have her at the children's hospital. I dropped Beth off with my friend and decided to run up and make sure everything's okay. I heard it's really bad. Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm just out in the parking garage. My phone needed charged a little bit and I wanted to try and get some rest." I lie to her so easily. I don't mean to lie, but I don't know how to tell her that I left because all I ever do is hurt Quinn. I know she's my mom, but she has a good moral compass guiding her and I don't think she'd take my side if she knew how wrong I am. She'd probably hate me just as much as I hate myself. "I was going to leave a little bit ago, but I… fell asleep, I guess."

"You were leaving? Why? Is Quinn okay now? I haven't talked to anybody in a while, I haven't asked for an update, I just wanted to focus on getting there."

"No, Quinn's not okay. I mean, she's still in bad shape. I think. I mean, I don't know. I don't know, I haven't gone back inside in a while, I don't know what they're saying. She was dying while I was in there and then I just —"

"She was dying?!"

"She passed out. Me and Mercedes were arguing and we were yelling and then she just lost consciousness and they made everybody get out of the room so they could shock her, but that's the last I heard. I don't know how she's doing, I… I don't know…" My voice cracks and I wanted to try and be tough about this whole thing and not cry because I know she's going to try and comfort me but I don't deserve to be comforted. I know I don't deserve comfort. But I really do need it…

"You haven't been back in since then?" She asks but it's not accusatory or anything. It's just a genuine question.

"No…" My head shakes on instinct and the tears rolling down my cheeks give me the chills. "I shouldn't be in there."

"Honey, what makes you say that? Why are you even thinking like that? Are you thinking that Quinn isn't going to make it? Because she will. She's tough and Dayton Children's Hospital is great, it's the only place I ever take Beth when she's sick."

"Every time I'm in there, Mercedes just wants to kill me. She slapped me, she's been trying to —"

"Why'd she hit you?"

"Because I made a mistake. I made a mistake — several mistakes, actually — and now Quinn is paying the price for it." I lean forward so I can rest my head against the steering wheel. I've only been awake for about five minutes or so and I'm already crying my eyes out again. My body should really run out of tears. "She's dying and I'm pretty sure at least 90% of it is my fault. It's all my fault. She's dying and it's my fault and everybody in that hospital hates me right now and I really need somebody on my side so if you could just get here… if you could just get here, Shelby. I'd really appreciate it. I need someone right now. I need a mom. I need my mom."

"I'm almost there, okay? I'm on my way, I'm almost there. But right now I need you to listen to me." I don't know how she does it. She always seems so calm and collected, like she's lived through every experience before so she knows how to counsel me and get me through it. It's very weird and oddly soothing. It's something I wish I inherited from her. "I need you to pull yourself together. I need you to take as long as you need to, sit in the car, and pull yourself together. Because when you go back into that hospital, you need to have your head on straight. You don't know what you're walking back into; you don't know if Quinn is okay or if she's not okay or if she's fighting for her life. You just don't know. So when you go back in there, you need to have a clear head. And you need to remember that you're there for Quinn. You care about her just as much as everyone that's there and you deserve to be there with them. It doesn't matter what Mercedes or anyone else says. It doesn't matter how you feel. What matters is that you're there for Quinn right now because she needs you. She needs all of us. She needs everyone who cares about her."

"...I love her, Mom." I take a deep breath but the tears won't stop. "Everybody says we're young and we won't last and it's just a high school relationship and stuff. And maybe they're right, you know? Maybe they're right. But I really, really love her."

"I believe you. I believe that you love her. And if you love her the way you say you do, you would pull yourself together and get back in that hospital."

"Okay." I run my fingers through my hair once the tears finally stop. I don't know if she's right. I don't know if it's going to help anything if I go back into the hospital, but I do know that I still want to be there for Quinn.

"I'll be there in half an hour, okay? And then we can talk?"

"Okay."

"I'll see you when I get there."

"See you."

She hangs up first and I unwrap myself from the blanket completely. I thought that maybe if I slept, I'd wake up and feel a little clearer about the entire situation and would know the right thing to do, but that hasn't been the case. When I woke up, I still felt just as confused and lost as I felt when I first decided to leave the hospital. I still feel that way, actually. But talking to my mom gave me a new sense of hope and that's the one thing I'm going to hold onto. I don't know if me and Quinn will work this out. Heck, I don't even know if Quinn will be alive after tonight. All I know is that I can only plan for what's happening right now and right now, I want to be there for the love of my life.

I throw my blanket in the backseat and get out of the car again, my phone in tow.

I could've gone my whole life without loving Quinn and I would have been just fine. I'd have married Finn and gone on to do Broadway or something of the sort. We'd have three kids; two girls and a boy and the only reason we didn't stop after two is because Finn really wanted a boy. I'd retire from performing after winning a Tony and then we'd move back to Lima and settle down with our three kids. Finn would be some kind of teacher at McKinley and I'd be a bored, stay-at-home mom who uses the money she earned performing to keep the family afloat. Every night I'd make dinner and stare longingly at the piano that I never get to play or the microphone I never get to sing into anymore because I'm too busy running between soccer practice and dance recitals. Before bed, Finn would roll over and tap me on my shoulder and I'd lie on my back and grit my teeth through five minutes of meaningless, pleasureless sex. On our twentieth wedding anniversary, he'd tell me that he found someone new and I wouldn't really care; I'd sign the divorce papers willingly because I'm too smart to not notice that things between us haven't been right lately. I'd turn 60 and get diagnosed with breast cancer or multiple sclerosis or whatever incurable disease that I'll die from. And that's how Rachel Berry would have lived. A boring, loveless, empty life. A life that's not even worth living, if I hadn't loved Quinn Fabray.

I could have been okay without Quinn. I could have swallowed my feelings and gone through with a life that was black, white and shades of gray.

But see, with Quinn, it's nothing like that. With Quinn, everything excites me. With Quinn… I have a future that I'm excited about and the possibilities are endless.

We'll graduate high school and move to New York together. We'll get our own apartment where we can decorate it however we like and leave our Christmas tree up year round. We'll take turns making dinner and washing the laundry, having stupid arguments about whose turn it is to clean the bathroom and then we'll laugh it off because at the end of the night, she'll roll over and wrap her arms around my waist and it won't matter. We'll walk each other to class. She'll get her degree in something really cool like fashion design and I'll get mine in drama and we'll go out searching for jobs that barely pay the bills because how the hell do you make any money with a drama and a fashion designing degree? We'll be broke and struggling, but who the hell cares when we have each other? My big break will come when I get the lead in some big production and my name will be in lights scrolling across all the marquees in downtown New York City. We'll finally have the money we need to stop struggling and Quinn will be happy for me, not jealous that my career is taking off. Then one morning, she'll get a call from someone who saw her work in a magazine and they want her to design costumes for a new show they're putting on Netflix. Before I know it, my girlfriend is the youngest woman to ever win an Emmy for best costume design and when she gets up on the stage to accept her award, she thanks her beautiful wife for everything. We'll go back to New York and find a beautiful house on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. And the day after my 30th birthday, I'll come to her and say that I'm ready to have a baby and she'll be so excited. We'll find a sperm donor that looks like me; dark hair, dark eyes, big nose, the works. We'll pay the best doctor in the entire state to go in and take Quinn's eggs out and put them inside of me. It'll be a girl, I've decided. She'll have Beth's curly hair and Quinn's hazel eyes, but my brown hair and olive-toned skin. She'll be perfect and we'll dote on her and spoil her and she'll be everything we need. We won't need to have another one. Beth will come visit us during the summers and she'll have a good relationship with her sister and we won't even care about having more babies because we got it right the first time. Me and Quinn, we'll be so happy. All we'll need is each other. I'll die knowing that my life was full and I've loved and been loved.

My life would be full of color.

Maybe I do want to go back to before I kissed Quinn, back when I still straight because that's easier. It's easier than getting weird looks when you walk up the hallway and easier than feeling like it's wrong every time you have sex with your girlfriend. Maybe I want to go back to easier times.

But there is nothing in this world that would make me want to go back to living a life where I couldn't be everything I want to be. I will never go back to who I was without Quinn. I didn't know what I could be until I found her. The idea of me being anything but straight seemed so crazy and out of this world. But the idea of living without her seems even crazier.

I can't live without her. I can't go back to having a life that's black and white. I need her color.

That's what I hold onto as I step off the elevator and walk back onto the pink floor. I'm here for her, not for anyone else. I'm here for the one who puts a little bit of color into my black and white world.

When I round the corner to get back to Quinn's room, I don't see Mercedes and her parents in the hallway, which is probably a good sign. It's good because for one, I don't have to worry about being punched in the face for now. It's also good because it probably means that Quinn is stable enough for them to leave. I don't know how late the cafeteria stays open, but they're probably down there getting something to eat or drink because the doctor said that Quinn is okay and needs to rest.

I get to her room — room 521 — and pull the curtains back since I don't hear anyone talking or yelling or running a code blue on her anymore. She's probably just sleeping. She's probably resting so that when she wakes up she can —

"Oh," I jump back a little, startled when I see an older man taking the sheets off the bed that Quinn was lying in once upon a time. Quinn's not here. There's not even any sign of her. There's nothing that indicates that she was even here, ever. This is room 521… isn't it?

"You need something?" The guy asks me as I crane my neck to check the number on the outside of the door. Sure enough, it says 521. This is Quinn's room. Where is Quinn?

"Yeah, I um…" I scratch my head, more for dramatics than anything but my head really was itching. "I'm looking for someone? The girl that was in this room? Quinn? Or, Lucy. Lucy Fabray?"

"Dunno who you're talking about, hon. I'm afraid I can't help you find her." He throws the sheets into a big hamper and starts putting new ones on. "They cleared this room about an hour ago. Sent me in here to clean it. They need the bed for someone else."

Oh my god, did Quinn die? Why would they move her? She has to be dead. Oh my god, she died. This can't be happening to me, this can't be real. She can't be dead, no. No. She's not dead. She can't be dead. She can't be dead, we were supposed to have a colorful future. She's my color. She can't be dead, this isn't the way our love story is supposed to end. We're supposed to have our baby. We're supposed to move to New York and have our baby and we're supposed to die together when we're old and have lived to the fullest. She can't be dead. I refuse to believe that she's dead. She can't be dead. I can't live without her, I can't exist in a world where she doesn't exist too. I can't do it.

"Do you know how I could find out what happened to her?" I take a step closer to the man and he probably thinks I'm crazy because I'm shaking but I don't care. I don't care how I look right now. "Who do I ask? How do I find out where they took her?"

"You can ask someone at the nurses' station down the hall. I'm sure they'll be able to help you."

"The nurses' station?" I take a step backwards, close to the door.

"Yeah, it's down the hall. Down the hall, make a left. You can't miss —"

I don't even tell him "thank you", which is extremely rude of me and my dads would surely yell at me if they knew, but I don't have time to be polite. I just turn and run as fast as I can down the hallway, sliding in my bunny slippers and fully preparing myself for falling. I'm completely out of breath and a little bit sweaty when I reach the counter with the glass sealing it off. There's a note that says "please don't knock on the glass, someone will be right with you" but I ignore it and knock on the glass anyway.

The nurse that pulls the glass aside looks really annoyed but it's another thing that I just don't care about tonight.

"Can I help you?" She asks. Despite the fact that she's wearing yellow scrubs with smiley faces all over them, she looks anything but happy.

"I need to know where they took Quinn Fabray." I can't catch my breath, but I know I'm talking clearly so I don't know why she's looking at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have lost my mind…

"Who?"

"Quinn. Fabray. Where did they take her?! What happened to her?!"

"I'm sorry honey, I don't —"

"LUCY! HER NAME IS LUCY FABRAY, SHE WAS IN ROOM 521 AND I LEFT ALMOST THREE HOURS AGO AND SHE WAS THERE. NOW SHE'S NOT. AND I NEED YOU TO TELL ME WHERE SHE IS. I NEED YOU TO TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED TO HER. HER NAME IS LUCY FABRAY, SHE'S FIVE FOUR OR FIVE FIVE, LIKE A HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN POUNDS, SHE HAS BLONDE HAIR AND HAZEL EYES AND HER BIRTHDAY IS NOVEMBER 11TH. FIND HER FOR ME. PLEASE."

Why is it that I only get things done if I yell? I'm generally not a very violent person and I hardly ever raise my voice, but she was acting like she didn't want to help me. She was acting like I'm a crazy person and they've never even heard of Quinn, so I yelled. I yelled and now her fingers are flying across the keyboard at lightning speed.

See what happens when I yell?

"Lucy Fabray…" Her eyes scan all over the computer screen and my throat is closing up because I feel like this is the moment where they're going to tell me that my life is over because Quinn died. "It looks like…"

I close my eyes and wince at every word she says.

"It looks like she was moved up to ICU about an hour ago. ICU, bed number three."

"ICU, which floor is that?"

"It's the yellow floor. Take the elevator and —"

Again, I don't bother telling her "thank you." I bolt for the elevator and jam my thumb into the button to call it to my current floor.

Quinn isn't dead. Thank god, thank god, thank god. She's not dead. She's in ICU, which is bad, I know. But she's not dead. I know the ICU is for people who are extremely sick and an inch away from death usually, but she's not dead. She's not dead and I can sit down and talk to her and hold her hand and tell her all about our colorful future together if she can just please forgive me for kissing Finn. I had my reasons, okay? She has to just please forgive me. We're supposed to be happy…

The elevator spits me out onto a floor that has sunflowers and suns painted all over the walls. The paint is a really soft, pastel kind of yellow and the floor tiles are very bright fluorescent yellow. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that this is the yellow floor. I have no idea where I'm headed or which way room number three is, but I'm smart enough to figure it out and yes, this hospital is huge but how hard can it be to find a room?

I walk calmly, not because I don't want to run, but because if I run I'll miss the room numbers. All I have to do is make a right down the sunflowery hallway, and I know that I've found the right place because Mercedes and her family are there. They're at the end of the hallway, standing outside of the door that is labeled with a yellow number "3" on the outside. They're standing side-by-side, but someone else is standing in front of them. She's really tall and has long black hair. Her hair is so dark against her pale skin that she looks like a vampire. She's wearing scrubs so I'm assuming she's a doctor, but she's a new one. I don't remember seeing her before.

I'm slow with the way I approach, careful that I don't set Mercedes off…

"...and stable, but she needs to keep her stress levels low so her blood pressure doesn't climb again. Anybody who cannot control themselves or their emotions cannot and will not be allowed to see her, and that's something I am prepared to strictly enforce. She's very sick, and we have a treatment plan in place for her and I intend to adhere to it. You will meet with a few other doctors responsible for Quinn's care, but they all answer to ME." I don't like the tone of the doctor's voice. Actually, I don't like her. I don't like her at all. "Anything further about Quinn's condition will not be discussed at this time. She's my patient now and I say what goes. Anything further will need to be discussed with Quinn's LEGAL guardians."

"What's going on?" I ask, but I already know that nobody is going to answer. Everyone's too wrapped up in what Dr. Bitch is saying. Truth be told, I'm a little wrapped up in it too.

"Now hold on," Mrs. Jones shrugs out of the supportive side-hug that Mr. Jones was giving her and takes a step toward the doctor. Even though Dr. Bitch is an entire head taller than her, Mrs. Jones doesn't seem like she's going to back down. "You ain't about sit here and say that you ain't telling us what's going on with her because we ain't her legal guardians. No ma'am. I—"

"I'm sorry, but it's policy. You are not that little girl's parents and by rights, you shouldn't even —"

"WE THE ONES THAT GOT HER!" Mrs. Jones has tears rolling down her cheeks, but she seems so strong. Her chin is up, she's facing this woman head on and her face isn't even cracking. It's just a little bit of tears. "She sick, I buys her medicine and make her soup. She crying, I'm the one who dry her tears. She mad, I calm her down. She need something, I buy it. She hungry, I fix her dinner. She cold, I get her blanket. She ran away and I'm the one who held that little girl and told her she was okay. I'm the one who stripped her down naked and helped her take a bath when she couldn't. When we found her on the floor, I'm the one who picked her up and cried for her. We the ones who did CPR and brought her here. You wanna tell me I ain't her mama? Blood ain't gonna make her my daughter no more than she already is. So you better tell me what's going on with my baby. You BETTER let me know how my girl is doing, or I swear to god. You wanna tell me I ain't her mama, then where is her mama? You see anybody else here? I'M her mama. She belongs to me."

Dr. Bitch holds Mrs. Jones' gaze for a few moments like she's waiting for Mrs. Jones to be the one to look away first. But when she realizes that Mrs. Jones isn't going to waver, she looks down and starts flipping through a bunch of papers.

"Hey Rachel," Mr. Jones puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes as he greets me in a very low voice. "Thought you went home for a minute there."

"I just… I sat in the car. I needed to get some air." I let him keep his hand on my shoulder for a few moments before I turn to face him. "Is she okay?"

"She's hanging in there." He nods. "They're running some tests on her right now, but when they're done we can see her."

"Did they say what happened? Why she passed out like that?"

"They're not really telling us anything anymore, but —"

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" A completely new voice yells as it approaches us from up the hallway and all of us turn to see who it came from at the same time.

I've never seen her in person before, but I know exactly who she is. Her heels clack up the hallway like she's sophisticated and I'd expect nothing less from a Fabray. Her brown mink coat flows as she walks and every time it flaps open, it gives way to see her white t-shirt covered by her navy blue blazer. Her jeans are distressed and have straggly pieces hanging at the ankles, but she looks super polished. Her hair is dark brown, unlike Quinn's and it's got a slight curl to it like Beth's. Her eyes match the Fabray eyes though, and her bone structure is almost as perfect as Quinn's.

She has no tears in her eyes, but her makeup is slightly smudged so I can tell that she was crying once upon a time. She drops her designer purse on the floor when she reaches us and finally takes a long, deep breath.

"What happened to her?" She asks, looking at all of us for an answer.

Dr. Bitch is the first one to speak up, of course. "I'm sorry, you are?"

"Francesca Fabray," she holds her hand out and shakes the doctor's like it's strictly business. "What happened to my sister?"

"Are you her biological sister? Because I can only give information to the family and —"

"I just said my last name is Fabray, didn't I?! Just tell me what happened to my sister. Tell me if she's gonna be okay." Frannie folds her arms across her chest as the doctor pulls her aside, away from us, and starts explaining to her exactly what's going on with Quinn.

"That Frannie?" Mr. Jones asks. "You think she told Russel and Judy? You think they're gonna show up?"

"I don't give a good goddamn if she called them or not and I don't give a good goddamn if they show up or not. Me and 'Cedes called them once on the way up here and they ain't answer, so to hell with them." Mrs. Jones rants. "All that matters is that she's here. Quinn needs everyone who cares enough to come and if they don't care then she don't need them. Period."

"My mom's on her way." I tell them because I feel like it's a fair thing to do. I don't want to surprise them with Shelby's presence, even though I'm sure they won't care that she comes. They probably already knew she was coming anyway, since she talked to Mercedes earlier. "She said she's about half an hour out."

"You two ain't tell nobody at school yet, did you?" Mrs. Jones asks me and Mercedes.

"Just Tina," Mercedes says. "And Sam. But they both swore not to tell and all I told them was that Quinn went to the hospital because she's sick and we won't be in school tomorrow. They won't ask any questions."

"I haven't said a word to anyone." I say, but I didn't say that to sound like I'm better than Mercedes or anything. I said that because it's the truth and I haven't even thought about telling anyone. It's just not in my thought process right now.

"Anybody who called Frannie?" Mercedes asks.

"I did," I admit. I know I might cause an argument between us by admitting that I told Frannie, but I don't care. I'm not here for Mercedes. I'm here for Quinn to know that we all love her and are waiting for her to pull through. "I Facebooked her before I left the house to come here and —"

"So you just decided to take it upon yourself and tell Quinn's business?" Mercedes rolls her eyes at me and it's getting a little old, her constantly being a bitch towards me. "Because you know what's best for Quinn, right?"

"Mercedes, I don't feel like —"

"No, it's true. You think just because you, what? Sleep in the same bed as Quinn, have your face between her legs a few times and give her a pretty necklace that you know what's best for her? That you know what she wants? Once again, you never think —"

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! YOU THINK THAT —"

"NO, RACHEL. YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING." She yells back and I wish she would hit me and get it over with so she can shut up already. I'm so over arguing. I'm here for Quinn and nobody else. "She's not on speaking terms with ANY of her family. The last time she saw her sister, she insulted her for being gay and —"

"She came back, Mercedes." I have to really reign myself in so I don't yell. I really want to yell and stick it to her and shove it in her face that this is something else she THINKS she knows about Quinn, but this isn't the time. It's not the time, it's not the place and it's not the point. "The next day, she came back and she and Quinn patched things up and they're close now. Okay? They text every single freaking day now. And you can sit here and yell at me and be mad because she told me about her and Frannie and not you, but that doesn't matter. I don't have time to argue with you about who knows Quinn best and why Quinn tells me things that she doesn't tell you. I don't have time for it. I'm trying to do what's right for Quinn. I never claimed to know what's best for her, I'm just trying to do it. I promised her that I would do better and this is it. This is me doing better. She'd want her sister here, Mercedes. I know that for a fact."

The look on Mercedes' face says it all. She's hurt and it's bothering her on a deeper level to know that there's yet another thing I knew about Quinn that she didn't. She's hurt and I feel for her, I really do. I think that maybe when this all settles down, she and I could have a really good talk about how to share Quinn and what it means to be important people in her life. But she has to let it go first.

"Now we can sit here and argue or we can sit here and think about what we're going to do to make sure that Quinn comes out of this okay because like it or not, we are BOTH part of her life. I'm not going anywhere unless Quinn wants me to. I… I failed her enough. I've failed her too many times to count and I'm not about to do that anymore." I shake my head. "You don't matter anymore and your dislike for me doesn't matter either. What's important is that Quinn gets better and that's all we should be focusing on."

She picks her head up and looks at me with way softer eyes.

"I failed her already, Mercedes. I'm not doing it again."

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed these chapters in Rachel's point of view. It's been fun, but I missed Quinn and we're back to her next chapter! :) She'll be ending out the story, (in 10 or so chapters) so that's the last you'll hear from Rachel's POV.