Author's Note: The one where they talk about babies a lot. Generally set after My Friends They Are So Beautiful and before Forget the Wrong That I've Done, but the first part is a series of vignettes spanning the years from friendship to marriage.

As always, thanks and cyber-hugs to Skywarrior108 for being an awesome beta.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.


It's the Life We're Living Now


You've been looking for more, I've been over my head
You've been filling up spaces, I'm working too much
It's the life we're living now
And it's beautiful, somehow
~Superstar, Broods


Part I: Waiting For Our Words To Be In Line


It's a hot and humid day in mid-July the first time the subject comes up. They're both home for the summer after the first year at their respective colleges, and they've both come a long way from the girls that left Ohio last fall. The biggest difference in Quinn's life, of course, is that she's finally coming to terms with the fact that she's a lesbian. She's even told her mother, and while Judy Fabray isn't happy about it by any means, Quinn still has a home and a mother who loves her despite being unable to understand her supposed choices.

And Rachel—well, Rachel has lost about two-hundred and fifty pounds of deadweight and any plans she'd made to ever get married before the age of twenty-five. She's currently single (again, after her rebound relationship with Daniel had fizzled out right before she'd come home for break), but Quinn isn't deluding herself into thinking that she suddenly has a chance at romance with Rachel. Rachel is still very definitely looking for a leading man to stand at her side, so the friendship that she and Quinn have been cultivating will have to be enough. No, Quinn has been giving her heart time to move on from its silly crush on Rachel by happily distracting herself with the semi-regular texts and emails that she's been exchanging with Kylie.

Meanwhile, Rachel seems to be actively avoiding Finn, who'd heard through the grapevine about Rachel's short relationship with Daniel and had predictably decided that they should forget the fact that he'd cheated on her and get back together now that Rachel is single and back 'home' in Lima. But—

"I just don't see myself making a life with him anymore," Rachel admits sadly, nursing her iced tea as she lounges in a chair beside Quinn's pool.

Quinn's eyes, shaded by her sunglasses, study Rachel intently—thankfully without lingering for too long on the vintage-style, red polka-dotted two-piece bathing suit she's wearing that makes her look like she'd stepped out of a 1950's teen beach movie. For her part, Quinn has opted for a modest one-piece and a wraparound sarong in an attempt to hide some of the scars that haven't yet faded as much as she'd like.

If Quinn is being honest, there's a part of her that's been expecting Rachel to fall back into the same old habit of forgiving Finn and taking him back again (and again and again) because she can't seem to live without him. After all, Rachel and Daniel had broken up primarily because she'd felt like she'd rushed into another relationship far too quickly after her breakup with Finn. Daniel had been surprisingly understanding about the whole thing—just not understanding enough to wait for Rachel.

"I can't believe he expects you to just forgive him after what he did," Quinn mutters, feeling old resentments creep to the surface. "And what does he even expect will happen once you go back to New York? He clearly didn't want to be there the first time around."

Rachel shrugs, setting her glass aside. "I think he's just really lost right now, and I'm the one thing that still feels familiar to him. Or maybe he's looking for me to…I don't know," she trails off, shaking her head, "give him some direction, I suppose."

"Like that's your responsibility," Quinn chides, disgusted all over again at Finn's lack of maturity. "He really needs to figure out his own shit," she spits, careless of the fact that she's channeling Santana.

"I know," Rachel concedes with a sigh. "I told him as much…in fairly comparable terms," she confesses guiltily, glancing down into her lap where her fingers are absently fidgeting.

Quinn lifts a hand to her sunglasses and inches the frames down her nose until she can level her unfettered gaze on Rachel over the rims. "You told him to figure out his own shit?" she asks in surprise.

A hollow laugh slips past Rachel's lips as her eyes lift back up to meet Quinn's. "I told him that he needs to grow up and figure out what he wants to do with his life on his own terms because I'm not going to be there to hold his hand anymore. That I'm tired of being the safety net he keeps falling back into every time things don't work out the way he expects." She takes another breath, glancing out over the still water of the pool. "And that I'm not in love with him anymore," she adds quietly.

"You sound like you mean that," Quinn muses, pleased to hear Rachel sound so resolved even if it won't ever translate into her suddenly falling in love with Quinn. She knows that Rachel has been trying to move on, but she also knows from her own experience that the heart can be pretty damned stubborn about letting go of who it wants.

"I…I feel like I do," Rachel confirms, meeting Quinn's eyes again. "I think I'll always love Finn a little bit, but…it's not the same as it was. I don't feel like I'm tied to him anymore, and when I try to imagine my future, I can't see him standing next to me. Honestly, I don't know if I can see anyone there right now," she admits, taking Quinn by surprise. After all, she's been hearing bits and pieces of Rachel's life plan for a number of years now, and there's always been a leading man.

"This last year has been a revelation," Rachel continues pensively, "and I've only had a small taste of how difficult it's going to be for me to succeed in New York. How much of my time and energy I'll need to devote to pursuing a life on the stage. If my failed engagement to Finn has taught me anything, it's that I'm not ready to compromise my dreams in order to become anyone's wife," she pauses, shaking her head ruefully, "and definitely not anyone's mother." Realizing exactly what she's said, Rachel's eyes widen and she jerks her head toward Quinn, offering her a guilty smile and a regretful, "Sorry."

There's a familiar ache in Quinn's chest at the reminder of Beth—of giving her up and then throwing away any chance to be a part of her life. Oh, Shelby had done the decent thing and brought Beth to see Quinn when she'd been in the hospital after her accident, but it had only been for one, short, drugged-up visit before Shelby—reassured that Quinn wouldn't be dying anytime soon—decided to pack up and move out of Ohio for good.

Shaking off the bittersweet memories, Quinn smiles ruefully. "Don't be. I obviously wasn't ready either."

Rachel nods jerkily, dragging in an unsteady breath before she begins to chew nervously on her lower lip. Quinn recognizes the habit and wonders what's on Rachel's mind, but she doesn't have to wonder long when Rachel haltingly confesses, "You know…I…I had a pregnancy scare the month before Finn and I broke up."

Quinn doesn't breathe for a moment—her mind spinning with the new information and trying to fit it onto the timeline of Rachel's relationship with Finn, Quinn's trip to New York, and why the hell hadn't Rachel mentioned this before?!—and then Quinn is inhaling sharply and ripping her sunglasses off her face. "No, I didn't know," she points out sharply.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says again, ducking her head in shame. "I should have told you, but it was really only a couple of days," she explains hastily, "and then it turned out to be nothing anyway. Thank God," she whispers, closing her eyes in remembered relief. "But until I knew for certain, I felt like I couldn't breathe," she recalls shakily, pressing her hands to her chest, and Quinn can almost feel the phantom weight of her own positive pregnancy test constricting her lungs. "Like all my dreams were crashing down around me and my life was over," Rachel continues, opening her wounded eyes and settling them on Quinn.

"Finn and I were already having problems, and I just felt so...so trapped. And I kept thinking about you," she tells Quinn quietly, "and what you went through with Beth, and God...how disappointed you'd be when I told you I'd thrown my life away by being stupid." Rachel cringes almost immediately, offering Quinn another remorseful look. "Sorry."

Quinn sighs, shaking her head. "Stop apologizing. I was stupid."

"And I was lucky," Rachel counters immediately. "Finn and I were always doubly careful, but I was afraid I'd screwed up my birth control with the antibiotic I'd been taking for a sinus infection, and…well, condoms are hardly foolproof."

"Especially when Finn is such a fool," Quinn mutters, incredibly grateful that Rachel didn't have to go through an unplanned pregnancy the way Quinn had.

Rachel frowns slightly at the dig to Finn but lets it slide without comment. "Thankfully, it turned out I was only late from the stress of school and…everything with Finn," she explains with shrug, "but for those two days when I thought I could be pregnant, I realized how much I didn't want that at all." A short, rueful laugh punctuates the statement, and she gazes at Quinn sadly.

"For all of the times that I'd pictured what my life would be like one day, triumphing over adversity, winning the coveted Tony-Grammy-Emmy-Oscar combination by the tender age of twenty-five, marrying my leading man, having two perfect, Jewish children…one boy and one girl, of course," she qualifies, rolling her eyes at her own youthful naiveté, "I never actually factored in that I'd be required to take time away from my career to carry and raise those children. They were always just…magically there and taken care of."

It really isn't funny, but Quinn finds herself snickering nonetheless. "Magically?" she echoes with a smirk, knowing that's exactly the kind of schoolgirl fantasy of life that Rachel would have indulged in.

A cute pout appears on Rachel's face, and she sighs dramatically. "You don't need to remind me that my goals are occasionally a tad bit unrealistic."

Quinn laughs again before pursing her lips in order to stifle her mirth. "Okay. I won't," she agrees affably.

Rachel shakes her head, sighing again—less dramatically and more resignedly. "It's just…there are so many incredibly talented people at NYADA alone, and I know that they're only a fraction of the competition I'm going to face at every audition. I need to focus on perfecting my craft so I can have a chance at winning roles and establishing a successful career, because I want the stage and Broadway and the applause more than anything else right now," she vows before turning to stare blindly at the pool once again.

Quinn's instinct is to comfort her—assure her that she's going to blow her competition out of the water and win every role she auditions for— but realistically, Quinn knows Rachel's concerns are valid. Broadway is extremely competitive, and Rachel is wise to devote her energy to learning every tool and trick and making every connection she can in order to help her make her dreams come true.

But then Rachel is quietly admitting, "I don't think I could be a good wife or mother until I can accomplish at least some of my more attainable goals, and even then, I wonder if I'll ever really be capable of sacrificing my own desires in order to put someone else's needs first." She catches her lower lip between her teeth, turning back to Quinn with wide, worried eyes. "Does that make me selfish?"

Quinn is still trying to wrap her mind around what Rachel is telling her—her apparent doubts about marriage and babies someday—but, "No," she insists without hesitation. "You're not selfish, Rachel. Maybe a little self-involved sometimes," she concedes, noticing Rachel's immediate frown, "but who isn't?" she's quick to dismiss. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to put yourself first right now. I mean, we're not even twenty yet."

They're still practically kids themselves. If not for Beth, Quinn would have never had a serious thought about motherhood for another eight to ten years at least.

Rachel's lips quirk into a half-smile. "And women are finding themselves in their thirties these days?"

Quinn chuckles at the reminder, nodding. "Exactly. To be honest, I've kind of been feeling the same way," she admits with a shrug.

She's still trying to figure herself out, and her sexuality has put an entirely new spin on old assumptions about the path her life would take. "I grew up with the expectation that I would marry some nice, Christian man that my parents approved of and have a couple of kids because that's what you do when you're married, but I'm obviously walking a very different path these days," she points out wryly, offering Rachel a self-deprecating smile. "I mean, I already gave up a baby at sixteen, and I know for certain there's no man, Christian or otherwise, in my future."

Rachel aims an annoyed expression at her. "I know you know you can be a lesbian and decide to have a family, Quinn," she says disapprovingly.

"Yeah, but that's just it, Rachel. It would be me deciding to get pregnant instead of passively letting it happen or not happen." And that's always the way it had played out in Quinn's mind—she'd defer to her husband on the subject, and when he decided they should start a family, they'd stop taking precautions and just let it happen. Instead, she'd just let it happen with Puck, trusting him to make sure it didn't when she should have been the one making an active decision to protect herself. There's no letting anything happen with another woman. If Quinn ever decides to get pregnant again, "I would be making the deliberate choice to become a mother after…after I already gave away my firstborn daughter," she explains haltingly, hearing the way her voice catches and hating the way Rachel's face is suddenly awash in sympathy.

"And I know I was too young," Quinn adds hastily, averting her gaze from Rachel's knowing eyes as she shakes her head, "and I couldn't have taken care of her or given her the life she deserved, but that doesn't stop me from wishing that things could have been different. I have so many regrets about everything that happened with Beth, and thinking about having another child feels almost like a betrayal of her," she finally confesses.

She can never replace Beth. She knows that now—despite that brief, insane moment last year when she'd thought she could somehow.

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel coos, practically falling out of her chair to reach across the space between them and find Quinn's hand—which had stretched out to be held without Quinn's conscious consent. "It wouldn't be," Rachel assures her, squeezing her hand in a show of comfort. "I know…my saying that doesn't change the way you feel right now, but Quinn, you did the best thing you could do for your daughter given the situation you were in. You loved her enough to make sure she has a mother who can provide for her in all the ways you couldn't."

Quinn's fingers tighten around Rachel's before she lets go with a frown. "Did I?" she asks, unable to shake the doubts that she's carried with her since she'd signed away her maternal rights to Shelby Corcoran.

"Yes," Rachel answers quickly. "Despite my own complicated relationship with Shelby, I believe that she's a good mother to Beth for exactly the reason she can't be one to me." Quinn doesn't really understand how that could be possible, and her doubt obviously shows on her face if Rachel's expression is anything to go by.

"She wanted a baby that she could love and nurture from day one, and she has that in Beth," Rachel explains simply. "I know she'll make sure that Beth has everything she could ever want or need, and I truly believe that someday Beth will understand exactly what you had to sacrifice in order to make sure she had her best chance in the world and be grateful to you for the amazing life you've given her."

Quinn closes her eyes as Rachel's words wrap around her wounded heart like a salve. She wants to let herself believe in them so badly. "I really hope you're right."

"I am. I'm right remarkably often, you know," Rachel responds cheekily, instantly lightening the somber mood between them and pulling a smile from Quinn.

"Keep telling yourself that, Rachel."

"I will, because it's the truth," Rachel insists. "And so is the fact that, regardless of whether or not you eventually start a family with whatever lucky woman wins your heart," she murmurs supportively, "you're already a good mother, Quinn, because you love Beth enough to put her needs first."

Quinn still has her doubts about that, but having Rachel say it helps to chase away some of her demons—at least for a little while—so she thanks Rachel, and they do their best to keep the conversation on happier subjects for the rest of the afternoon. After all, it's summer, and they're both young and free. They have their whole lives ahead of them to figure out where they want to end up when it's all said and done.

xx

They really don't talk about it again until a few months after they start dating. There hadn't been a need through the stubborn years of just-friendship when they'd both had to watch each other find little moments of happiness with other people, and neither one of them had really cared to think too far into the futures that had been spread out before them at the time. Peter hadn't been enough to replace the stars and spotlights in Rachel's eyes with dreams of marriage and babies, and Sarah's reluctance to even meet Beth and her avoidance of children in general hadn't done much to spark any of Quinn's maternal urges.

They'd never felt the need to give voice to the fact that nothing had really changed for either of them. Well, that's not entirely true—Shelby's reappearance with Beth during Quinn's second year at Yale had helped ease the weight of guilt and regret that had been crushing Quinn since she'd given her daughter up for adoption, lightening her heart in little increments but not quite enough to erase the hesitancy Quinn feels at the thought of having another child one day and the fear of how Beth might react to it.

Not even loving Rachel and having Rachel love her in return can magically flip that switch, and there's still the worry that this might not last—that Rachel will change her mind about them or that they'll discover they were better suited to be just friends. Admittedly, that worry is lessening with every day spent with Rachel, every night curled around one another, every kiss, every I love you, and every hopeful promise of forever, but it's too soon to be thinking about marriage and children. Even so, Quinn can't help selfishly wanting Rachel and Beth to be as important a part of each other's lives as they are of hers. But Shelby is being such a fucking bitch.

"Your demons are chasing you again," Rachel mumbles, snuggling closer against Quinn's side as they lie together in the aftermath of their spent passion.

Having thought that Rachel had drifted off to sleep, it takes a moment for Quinn to fully emerge from her own distant musings and come back to the present. "They're not," she denies. "I'm just…thinking."

Rachel chuckles huskily—her breath puffing against Quinn's shoulder. "There's a difference?" she challenges.

Quinn rolls her eyes, even though Rachel can't see her. "Ha ha." She won't admit just how often there isn't a difference at all.

"What are you thinking about?" Rachel prompts gently, dancing her fingers over Quinn's ribs. It feels nice.

Quinn sighs, reluctantly admitting that her mind had wandered to, "Shelby."

Rachel's hand freezes on her skin. "Well, that completely ruins my haze of post-coital bliss," she grumbles.

A short laugh escapes from Quinn before she shifts on the mattress to face Rachel, offering her an apologetic smile through the darkness. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Rachel urges in resignation. "I just thought I'd managed to successfully distract you."

"You did. Very pleasantly," Quinn promises with a small smile. "But then my mind went right back there again. I just can't believe she won't let us tell Beth we're together."

Even saying it now makes Quinn want to punch Shelby Corcoran right in her judgmental nose. It's not like she'd expected the woman to congratulate them on finally getting it right with one another or embrace her as a potential daughter-in-law—Shelby can't even fully embrace Rachel as her daughter—but Quinn had never expected to be threatened with being barred from Beth's life all over again. And even though Shelby has backed down a tiny bit from her initial reaction, she's hell bent on keeping Quinn's relationship with Rachel far, far away from Beth.

"Give it a little time, baby," Rachel urges, reaching out to find Quinn's hand and entwining their fingers. "Shelby was…surprised by the change in our relationship," she says tactfully, "and you have to admit…it could potentially be a little confusing for Beth to understand that her birth mother is dating her adoptive kind-of sister."

Quinn really doesn't have to admit anything of the kind. "I really hate it when you say it like that," she mutters petulantly. It makes it sound vaguely incestuous when it's absolutely not.

"Well, it's unfortunately true in the most technical sense," Rachel stubbornly reiterates, "even if our individual ties with Shelby and Beth don't have any bearing on our ties to each other. Shelby knows that, and I'm sure Beth will understand once it's explained to her. And it will be explained to her eventually, Quinn," she promises, giving Quinn's hand a reassuring squeeze, "because I plan for us to be together for a very long time."

Quinn's breath hitches at the sweet profession. "Is that so?" she asks softly, already knowing that a very long time with Rachel is everything she wants.

Rachel's lips curve into a teasing smile. "It is. I've designated you as my permanent leading lady, and I'm afraid you'll just have to deal with it."

Quinn can't help laughing at that. It's so typically Rachel—although the idea of her casting a romantic lead for her personal life still doesn't sit particularly well with Quinn. After all, it hasn't really worked out very well for Rachel in the past, but she chooses to let it go for now, realizing that Rachel is mostly (hopefully) joking. "I'm not singing duets with you."

Rachel's eyes narrow playfully. "Yes, you will."

Probably, but, "Not in public," Quinn insists with an indulgent roll of her eyes, though she thinks she might really like singing with Rachel in private.

"We'll see," Rachel trills with a knowing grin.

She does seem to have a way of convincing Quinn to agree to things against her better judgment, and Quinn imagines that skill will only grow more refined now that they're dating. She can't even bring herself to mind it much now that she gets to enjoy the full set of benefits that comes with giving in. She's happier than she's ever been in her life—except for the one thing.

It has Quinn's faint smile slipping back into a thoughtful frown. "I just…I want us both to have a good relationship with Beth," she tells Rachel with a sense of longing, lifting their joined hands higher on the mattress between them. They're the two most important people in Quinn's life, and, "I want us to be able to spend time with her together. It's important to me."

"I know it is, baby," Rachel murmurs sympathetically. "I want that too."

"Do you?" Quinn hears herself asking before she's had a chance to really think it through. "Because you seemed pretty hesitant about spending time with Beth, and I have to wonder if a part of you isn't relieved that Shelby doesn't want her to be exposed to our relationship yet."

In fact, Rachel had been awfully quick to agree to Shelby's terms regarding Beth—content to let Quinn's visits with her daughter continue on indefinitely without her involvement.

Rachel instantly frowns, brow furrowing as she untangles their fingers and drags her hand away. "That's not entirely fair, Quinn. I've admitted that I'm nervous about the role I'll play in Beth's life, but I'm certainly not relieved that Shelby reacted the way she did. I'm only afraid that Beth won't approve of me as your partner."

"She's seven. She doesn't really get a say in that," Quinn dismisses. Maybe it might make a difference if Quinn was actually raising Beth, but she isn't, and Quinn's dating life will have very little direct effect on her daughter.

Rachel huffs, and even in the darkness of the room, Quinn can clearly see her eyes roll. "You say that like a seven year-old can't throw a tantrum and decide she doesn't want to share the time she spends with her birth mother with some annoying woman who's trying too hard to be liked."

Compassion sneaks in around the edges of Quinn's disquiet, and she reaches out to place a comforting hand on Rachel's hip. "Sweetheart, Beth already likes you. I've told you that."

"I know, but that doesn't magically make my fears disappear," Rachel argues, shifting restlessly on the mattress. "I don't," she begins, pausing to release a heavy sigh and averting her gaze before she confesses, "I haven't had a lot of experience with children."

Quinn can almost feel the anxiety radiating off of Rachel's body, and she draws her hand away from the unpleasant sting of disappointment. She'd thought that she'd managed to assuage Rachel's fears about her role in Beth's life before they'd told Shelby about them, but apparently she hadn't. Rachel still doesn't feel ready to spend more time with Beth, and even though she's trying to be supportive of Quinn, it's only for Quinn's sake and not because she's truly invested in having a relationship with Quinn's daughter.

It bothers her more than she can say, even knowing that it shouldn't—Rachel isn't required to love Beth just because she loves Quinn. It should be enough that Rachel wants to make Quinn happy and that she's willing to step outside of her comfort zone to do it.

"Look, Rachel, I know that motherhood isn't on your immediate to do list," Quinn concedes, watching Rachel's startled eyes jerk back to hers, "if it even is at all," she adds hastily, recalling the conversation they'd had years ago about motherhood in general, "but you don't have to worry about that with Beth. She already has a mother…two of them actually. You'd only have to be her friend."

Rachel holds Quinn's gaze, catching her lower lip between her teeth for a long moment before she takes a deep breath. Her throat muscles visibly flex as she swallows. "We haven't really talked about this in a while, have we?"

"Spending time with Beth?" Quinn asks in confusion. They'd talked about it only two weeks ago.

"No. The motherhood thing," Rachel clarifies with an uncertain voice, plucking at the sheets between them with nervous fingers. "I mean, I know our romantic relationship is still very new, and we're nowhere near ready to talk about marriage or children, but you're obviously still remembering what I told you back in college," she rambles, no longer meeting Quinn's eyes, "about me being…too selfish for those things."

"You're not selfish," Quinn denies automatically.

Rachel puffs out a frustrated breath. "Self-involved then."

Quinn remembers the conversation, and she also remembers making that qualification at the time. Sighing, she catches Rachel's hand again, wordlessly urging Rachel's eyes back to her. "Rachel, sweetheart, there isn't anything you want for yourself that I don't want for you just as badly. You're not selfish," she repeats vehemently. "You're ambitious, and I admire the hell out of that."

Someday, Rachel Berry is going to be the shiniest star to ever grace a stage or screen or concert hall, and God willing, Quinn will be proudly standing behind her, cheering her on.

"But do you see yourself wanting a family with me someday?"

The unexpected question takes Quinn by surprise, and she can't actually tell if Rachel wants her answer to be a yes or a no. Quinn doesn't really know what her answer would be either way. "Maybe it is a little soon to be talking about this," she hedges with a frown. Until now, she's only been thinking about all of this as it applies to Beth.

"Because you don't see me as a viable partner in that endeavor?" Rachel pushes, watching Quinn carefully through the darkness. "Or because you feel like having another child would somehow damage your relationship with Beth?"

Quinn exhales slowly, feeling the familiar weight of guilt and regret press down on her chest. "I guess I'm not the only one who remembers the conversation we had," she mutters.

Rachel's hand tightens around hers. "I'm only attempting to establish if anything significant has changed in the last four years, other than our relationship, of course," she qualifies. "I mean, obviously, I've not yet accomplished even a fraction of what I want to accomplish before I could even consider having a child." And that's pretty much what Quinn had suspected, but then Rachel pauses, taking a breath before she adds with some humor, "Although, until very recently, it hadn't occurred to me that I might not actually have to be the one to carry said hypothetical child."

Quinn's eyebrow arches at that. "So you definitely don't want to get pregnant, but you'd be fine with knocking me up?"

"No," Rachel denies quickly. "That's not… I'm very much not ready for that kind of responsibility," she confirms resolutely. "I'm just trying to get a feel for where we both stand on the subject of motherhood in general," she explains, stroking the pad of her thumb over the back of Quinn's hand, "because I do see you standing beside me when I picture my future, Quinn. I just don't know if I should be saving a space for anyone else," she admits with a shrug.

"It's your picture, Rachel," Quinn reminds her in a sharper tone than she intends, but she's always had something of a love-hate (mostly hate) relationship with that picture that Rachel had painted of her perfect life. The fact that Quinn is the one pasted into it now instead of Finn Hudson or Peter Kendrick doesn't improve her overall feelings on it nearly as much as she'd expected it to.

"Yes," Rachel agrees carefully, "but right now I'm not sure that I can really bring either version of it into focus. On one hand, I know I'm not ready to be a mother and I don't know when I might be. You're right about that," she acknowledges with a regretful smile. "Right now, I feel like I could be perfectly content just being in love with you and having an amazing career with a roomful of awards."

Quinn finds herself smiling despite the seriousness of the conversation. "So it's a roomful now?"

"It's always been a roomful, Quinn," Rachel confirms without missing a beat. "But on the other hand," she continues, "I think if my partner…if you," she corrects unabashedly, "wanted children…not anytime soon, mind you, but someday…then I could see myself agreeing to eventually start a family."

Quinn doesn't miss all the vague conditions in Rachel's proclamation—not soon but someday, she could, eventually; if her partner wants it. "So…basically…you're deciding not to decide and leaving it up to me," she translates. "Or whomever you end up with," she adds with a frown—because even if Quinn is pasted into Rachel's picture right now, she's all too aware of how easily that could change if this relationship doesn't work out the way they both hope it will.

She knows Rachel is aware of it too, but it doesn't stop her from insisting, "I plan to end up with you, Quinn."

Plans can change. Quinn has intimate experience with that—both for the worse and for the better. She plans to do everything in her power to hold onto Rachel now that she has her, but beyond that, Quinn hasn't really nailed down all the details of where she sees herself in ten or twenty years.

"I obviously want that particular plan to succeed," Quinn confirms before sighing. "As for the rest…I honestly haven't had much of a reason to think about having more children since the last time we talked about it. Sarah was the only person I was really serious about, but she and I never got to that point in our relationship before we broke up, and I knew she wasn't all that fond of children anyway."

Quinn doesn't miss the way Rachel frowns at the mention of her ex-girlfriend, but she's not sure if it's born strictly of the long-suppressed jealousy that Quinn now knows has always been present or colored with the troubled recognition that Rachel might actually have something in common with Sarah. Quinn isn't exactly sure how she feels about the possibility that it's the latter—that all of Rachel's maybes and somedays might just be pretty words to cover up probably nots and nevers—but she's also not sure it really matters at the moment because, "It's been enough for me to have a relationship with Beth again."

Rachel nods faintly as she continues to study Quinn from across the pillow. "So you don't see yourself wanting another child?"

There's something almost hopeful in the question, and Quinn frowns at it. "I don't know," she barks out in mild irritation, wondering why Rachel keeps pushing for a definitive answer when she'd just admitted that she herself is completely undecided right now. In Quinn's mind, it can only be that Rachel is hoping for another no from Quinn to let her off the hook of ever having to say yes to that maybe someday.

Dragging in a breath, Quinn rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling as she pushes a hand through her hair. Whenever she lets herself think about having another child—going through a second pregnancy—every bad, sad, angry, hopeless, confused, panicked feeling that she'd had with Beth comes rushing back, and she doesn't know if she wants to relive all of that again. Oh, she knows it would be entirely different a second time around (and, honestly, the idea of someday having a child with Rachel has a bubble of happiness wrapping itself around all of the bad memories until they almost float away) but that's the problem. Quinn can't just decide on a redo—a chance to get it right this time—and erase what she went through with Beth. It will always be there, reaching up through any happiness to burst her bubble and remind her of what a terrible person she was for having wished her first pregnancy would just go away.

She doesn't regret Beth—she couldn't ever—but she regrets everything that brought Beth into being, including the stupid, scared, repressed version of herself that ever said yes to Puck in the first place.

Saying yes with Rachel would be something completely different, and it's hard to reconcile the happiness that would undoubtedly bring her with the pain and guilt she'll always carry over Beth.

Someday Shelby is going to tell Beth about Quinn's relationship with Rachel and let them all spend time together, and Rachel will stop being a twitchy ball of nerves and charm Beth the way she'd so thoroughly charmed Quinn, and they won't all magically become a family, but they'll be something more than what they are now.

And maybe Beth will be okay with Quinn and Rachel eventually having a family of their own.

Someday.

Maybe.

Eventually.

Quinn chuckles mirthlessly, as undecided as she's ever been about what she wants. "I guess…not right now," she finally admits, "but…someday…if I knew Beth wouldn't be hurt by the decision…I might."

Rachel's little laugh sounds relieved, and she lays a hand over Quinn's stomach, shuffling closer to Quinn on the mattress. "So I guess we're both fairly undecided about it at the moment."

"I suppose we are," Quinn mumbles, glancing away. She feels even more unsettled now than she had when she'd only been stewing over Shelby.

"It's okay," Rachel assures her softly. "We're not even twenty-five yet. I don't think we have to be decided on every detail of our lives right now."

Quinn knows that. She does. It's too soon to be thinking about having children with Rachel—they've only been dating a few months!—and it's impossible to know where their relationship will take them in the future or what they might end up wanting out of it. She'd been very happily not thinking about any of this until Rachel had brought it up, but now she has a sneaking suspicion that she's going to start thinking about it more and more.

There's already a hazy picture of a miniature Rachel dancing around in her head, and Quinn isn't sure if either of them will ever be ready to bring it into focus.

xx

For a time, it's left unspoken, peeking out between the lines of other conversations. When they move in together, it's with the understanding that they never want to live apart again and they're on the path to marriage one day—when we're ready and our careers are on track, Rachel says, and Quinn agrees. Babies are still a maybe that neither one of them have completely ruled out or fully embraced, but when Shelby finally lets them take Beth for a day by themselves, there are warm and fuzzy feelings and acknowledgements of how nice it feels for the three of them to spend the day together—Rachel tells her you made a really amazing kid with such reverence that those old maybes become a little less hazy in Quinn's mind. When Oliver comes into their lives, they joke about him being their baby, but being responsible for another living creature isn't as scary as they'd both thought it would be, so—maybe we could do this for real someday, Quinn thinks but never says.

And then there's a gorgeous diamond sparkling on Quinn's ring finger, and Rachel is wearing one that complements it perfectly, and they're curled up together on their sofa in their apartment making solid plans for their future.

"What do you think about June?" Quinn asks, idly running her fingertips over Rachel's left hand where it rests on Quinn's thigh and admiring the way both of their rings catch the light. She finds herself doing that an awful lot these days, and she's not ashamed in the least. It's taken them a long time to get here.

"As a month in general? Or for brides specifically?" Rachel asks playfully, catching Quinn's hand with her own and entwining their fingers.

"For our wedding, obviously," Quinn clarifies, giving Rachel's hand a sharp squeeze to punctuate her point.

"Obviously," Rachel echoes with a smile in her voice. "Oh, they say when you marry in June," she sings, "you're a bride all your life. And the bridegroom who marries in June gets a sweetheart for a wife.¹"

Rachel's impromptu performance comes to a frowning halt. "The musical genre really is overwhelmingly heteronormative," she complains with a huff.

Quinn laughs, too happy right now to really care overmuch about the stunning lack of diversity in the entertainment industry. "You're just figuring this out?" she teases.

"Believe me, Quinn, if I'm ever given the chance to change that in even the tiniest way, I won't hesitate," Rachel promises with a firm shake of her head.

Quinn frowns thoughtfully as she considers the implications of that vow. "Evelyn will be thrilled," she mutters, her frown deepening at the thought of Rachel's agent.

"I don't care," Rachel insists, shifting on the sofa so she can meet Quinn's eyes more comfortably—though Quinn immediately misses the warm weight of Rachel's body pressed against her side. "She works for me, not the other way around."

Quinn nods faintly, biting into her lip as her eyes dart away from Rachel's determined gaze. Evelyn is already bristling at their engagement. Quinn can still remember the comment that the woman had made back in the early days of her relationship with Rachel—that it's much easier to hide a girlfriend than a wife. It had been a not-so-subtle warning to Quinn not to complicate Rachel's burgeoning career with grand gestures or public displays of affection.

"She's going to advise you against having a big, public wedding," Quinn warns her sadly, knowing that Evelyn had already advised Rachel not to marry Quinn at all—to keep living together if they wanted but not to do anything permanent that included public records. Rachel had almost fired her for that, but Evelyn had managed to earn a stay of execution with a quick surrender on the marriage front and promises of new roles and record deals to come.

"And I will kindly tell her to take her advice and shove it up her unmentionables," Rachel vows with an adorable scowl. "We're going to plan the wedding that we want…in June," she adds, flashing a brilliant smile.

Quinn's lips turn up in a pleased grin. She's always wanted to be a June bride, but she'd wondered if maybe that might be rushing things. June is only nine months away, after all, but, "It is already our anniversary month," she reminds her fiancée with a fond smile, remembering their first kiss and first I love yous and first—well, there were a lot of firsts that month. "We might as well make it official."

Rachel grins. "In every sense," she agrees, leaning in to grace Quinn's lips with a tender kiss.

"I really love you," Quinn sighs happily when they part.

Rachel hums in pleasure. "I really love you too, soon-to-be Mrs. Berry-Fabray."

"Fabray-Berry," Quinn automatically corrects, not entirely sure she likes the sound of Quinn Berry, no matter how much she loves Rachel or how eager she is to become her wife.

Rachel frowns thoughtfully. "I suppose we still have time to figure that part out."

"Our kids are going to love having to hyphenate," Quinn muses, mostly joking as she continues to consider the possible combinations of their names and which one might sound better.

Rachel stills considerably beside her. "Kids?"

Quinn studies Rachel's guarded expression with a mild frown. "Yeah. Kids," she repeats slowly. "I'm pretty sure I want to have a family with you, Rach," she admits, giving voice to the desire that's been steadily growing inside of her over the last several years.

"Like…right now?" Rachel asks warily.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Yes. Right now, Rachel. Let's go find some sperm and get pregnant before your performance tonight," she drawls sarcastically.

Rachel aims a disgruntled pout in Quinn's direction, crossing her arms. "Be serious."

"Of course I don't mean right now. We just got engaged," Quinn points out needlessly, "but we are getting married in the near future, and we've really only talked about children in the abstract before now." The maybes and somedays were left hanging with endless ellipses. "I know you've always been pretty uncommitted either way…"

"I prefer to think of it as flexible," Rachel interrupts with a frown.

"Flexible then," Quinn amends, huffing in annoyance. "But the last time we discussed it, I still wasn't certain what I wanted."

Rachel nods slowly as she licks her lips. "And now you are?" she asks cautiously.

"I think so," Quinn confirms with a nod. "For so long, having another baby felt like something I shouldn't be allowed to want after giving Beth up for adoption, but she understands how young I was when I had her and why I had to give her to Shelby, and I think I'm finally at peace with all of it…as much I can ever be, anyway," she admits, knowing that a part of her will always be left wondering what could have been if she'd made different decisions. "I know that Beth is happy and healthy and loved, and I'm so blessed to be able to have a good relationship with her."

"She's a great kid," Rachel murmurs with a tender smile.

"Yeah. She is," Quinn agrees proudly. "And whenever we spend time with her now, it feels so natural, and I guess I've been starting to think about how it would feel with our own child," she admits, allowing the image of a miniature Rachel to freely dance through her mind again. "So I'm pretty sure I'm gonna want to find out for real someday...if…if you do," she adds nervously, worrying her lower lip as she waits for her fiancée's answer.

Rachel draws in a deep breath before she nods faintly, offering Quinn a timid smile. "I want what you want."

Quinn's jaw clenches at receiving yet another vague answer. "Okay, don't do that," she grits out. "You need to tell me if you still have doubts about being a mother."

Rachel's wounded eyes dart away, and she begins to twist her fingers together in her lap, anxiously fiddling with her engagement ring. Quinn stomach drops at the sight and continues to plummet when Rachel asks in a small voice, "Are you going to give back the ring I gave you if I do?"

That she would even ask that—Quinn shakes her head, protectively covering her own engagement ring with her right hand. "I told you that you're never getting this ring back," she mulishly reminds Rachel.

A humorless laugh pushes past Rachel's lips as her worried gaze finds Quinn again. "But will you still marry me?"

Disappointment churns in Quinn's stomach at the unspoken confirmation that Rachel does still have doubts about motherhood while almost all of hers have steadily faded away, but Quinn knows in that instant that she would still choose to marry Rachel a thousand times over the possibility of having a child with anyone else. So it's easy to say, "Yes. Of course, I will, Rachel." She reaches over, prying Rachel's hand away from its fidgeting and holding it tight. "I've loved you for too long to give you up over…over the hypothetical family we may or may not have."

"The family you want," Rachel stresses doggedly.

Quinn glances away, drawing in a steadying breath in the hope it might help ease the ache in her heart. "And you don't," she concludes sadly.

"I didn't say that," Rachel corrects immediately. "I…I do still have…I wouldn't say doubts. Let's call them concerns," she explains clumsily.

"Concerns?" Quinn echoes uncertainly, gazing intently at Rachel once again.

"You know how crazy and exhausting my schedule can be when I'm doing a show, Quinn," Rachel begins regretfully, barely making eye contact. "And my career is really only just beginning to take off. I don't know what opportunities I might have in the future or what demands they might make on my time, and I know we wouldn't seriously consider expanding our family for a number of years at least, but," Rachel pauses, finally taking a much-needed breath as she meets Quinn's eyes, "when we have a child of our own, I want to make sure I'll be able to be fully present. For both of you."

"When," Quinn repeats, feeling renewed hope in the face of Rachel's very specific concerns.

Rachel's eyes widen slightly. "I can't give you an exact timeframe right now, Quinn!"

"No…that's not," Quinn trails off, shaking her head. "You said when we have a child, not if."

Understanding flashes in Rachel's eyes. "I told you, I want what you want, Quinn," she repeats, holding up a hand when Quinn opens her mouth to protest again. "I'm not just saying it," she vows quickly. "If you'd decided that you didn't want another child after Beth, then I'm fairly certain that I would have been perfectly happy to be your wife and for the two of us to spend our lives together, doing what we love. But since that isn't your decision," she continues, moistening her lips and offering Quinn a tentative smile, "of course I'll be happy to start a family with you someday."

A sense of relief settles over Quinn at hearing those words, even with Rachel still cautioning that, "I just think we both need to be in a place where we feel ready to take that step, not to mention be financially stable and comfortably established in our careers."

Quinn nods, smiling widely because those things are perfectly reasonable, and it's absolutely understandable that Rachel would want to have a solid plan in place before she'll be ready for children. Quinn isn't expecting them to start trying the moment they get married. "I agree. We need to focus on the wedding first anyway, and you have the show right now, which will undoubtedly enjoy a very long run."

"God willing," Rachel interjects. "And you're also going to need a time to nurture your burgeoning writing career."

Quinn hums in agreement, even though she doesn't think that working on her next novel would need to delay them from starting a family. "But children are in the plans," she confirms, finally granting herself permission to start dreaming about their future kids.

"They are," Rachel agrees with a small nod. "Someday."

For once, the familiar qualifier doesn't bother Quinn in the least because she knows that they're already on their way to someday, and she leans forward to capture Rachel's lips in a loving kiss, more eager than ever to start making plans for their future.

xx

Someday becomes today on the first Thursday in August. Rachel has just finished previews in Chicago for her new show, Confessions, and now they have a week of final tech rehearsals in their new home at the Cort Theatre before they're scheduled to perform their first Broadway preview early next week.

She's been committed to this show since the very first day of the workshop at the end of March, when every new day had meant new pages and new songs and new choreography. She'd been there to help wow the investors and earn the project a greenlight into production, and she'd stayed on through the recastings and rewrites into the rehearsals that had started in June, determined to bring her first original role to the stage. Rachel is simply brilliant as Iris, and Quinn couldn't be more proud of her wife.

Their stay in Chicago had given Quinn the chance to visit with her mother and TJ again—and Frannie too, she supposes, though her sister had been more miserable than ever on the heels of her very recent separation from Timothy. The time Quinn had spent with her nephew had gotten her thinking more about motherhood, especially after once again watching Rachel's admittedly brief interactions with TJ, and after they'd gotten home to New York, she and Rachel had been able spend a perfect day with Beth at Coney Island that only made Quinn more certain than ever that she's ready for them to start a family of their own.

Quinn knows the timing isn't exactly ideal. Rachel's short period of so-called downtime after leaving Funny Girl had lasted a less than two months, give or take the weeks that she'd had between the workshop and the start of rehearsals, and if this show is a hit (and Quinn knows it will be a hit), it will take up at least another year of their lives. But both of their careers are flourishing right now, and they're in a really good place financially.

Rachel has her first Tony tucked safely away on the shelf, and Quinn expects this role to win her a second. The initial workshop agreement that Rachel had signed (thanks to Evelyn's uncompromising perseverance) guarantees her one percent of the royalties if (when) the show is a success, which could turn out to be really good for them in the long run. The industry is pretty unpredictable, but Evelyn manages to keep finding promising projects for Rachel's consideration, and she swears that she already has a record company ready to offer a contract should Rachel decide to dip her toes into the music industry with something other than a Broadway cast recording.

As for Quinn, her second book is still sitting on the bestseller list, and its success is reinvigorating the sales of her first. Devon is in negotiations with one of the two studios that were interested in the film rights, hoping to sell Quinn's books as the series they seem to be developing into. It still isn't set in stone, and Quinn is a little skeptical that it will really happen at this point, but she's feeling pretty confident that she can earn a living with her writing and not have to go back to a full-time desk job editing other people's books.

There's never going to be a perfect time to have a baby, but they can carve out an almost perfect time if they start making a solid plan now.

That's what Quinn intends to do when they sit down to relax after finishing the delicious meal of butternut squash baked risotto that she'd prepared for them. Rachel had spent a long day at the theatre, and she's excited to be on the final stretch to the official Broadway debut, but—

"I feel like I've been playing Iris forever, and we haven't even officially opened yet," Rachel says on a sigh, leaning her head against the back of the sofa.

Quinn lets her eyes roam over her wife's familiar profile, reaching out to sift her fingers through Rachel's hair in a soothing manner. She can hear the obvious affection that Rachel has for her character, but there's also an edge of exhaustion present that had taken a much longer time to appear when she'd been playing Fanny Brice.

"You're not feeling burned out already?" Quinn asks worriedly, knowing that even with Rachel's love of performing, playing the same role almost every night, month after month, for a year or longer can really drain her energy. Rachel had learned from her experience with Funny Girl that pushing past a year, though wonderful in terms of steady employment and income, isn't really wonderful for her creativity, and she'd really had to dig for the inspiration to get through those last few months of her contract. Quinn hates to think that Rachel might hit that point even sooner with this show.

"No. I'm not," Rachel assures her, turning her head to gaze at Quinn. "But…well, I've been with Iris since her conception, so to speak, and I feel like I've poured more of myself into her than any other role I've ever done. I'm just really ready to send her out into the world and find out if people love her as much as I do," she explains, and Quinn nods in understanding.

She feels something similar when she's bringing characters to life in her books, and while Rachel didn't create this character in quite the same way, so much of what Iris has become has been formed by Rachel's interpretation of her that she's bound to feel more connected to her than to characters that have already been established and performed hundreds of times.

"They will," Quinn promises with an encouraging smile that Rachel gratefully returns. The audiences in Chicago certainly did.

"I hope so," Rachel murmurs, laughing a little. "She's kind of my baby."

Quinn's breath catches at the perfect opportunity that Rachel had just unknowingly dropped into her lap, and she licks her lips, taking a moment to gather her thoughts (and her courage) before speaking. "Um…while we're on that subject," she begins haltingly, "are you still thinking that you won't extend past your current contract with Confessions?"

Rachel is committed to the show for a full year of public performances, assuming the show runs for that long, and with the buzz around it and the reception it had gotten during its stay in Chicago, there's a good chance it will run even longer.

Rachel shrugs. "I can't be completely certain, of course, but I have a feeling that I'll probably be ready for something new if the show continues past next year."

Quinn nods, heart beginning to race. "Like…maybe motherhood?"

It's almost scary how quiet the room gets—except for the sharp hiss of Rachel's indrawn breath. Quinn watches her wife's eyes widen, allowing her an unobstructed view of the surprised apprehension that quickly fills them. A pink tongue pokes out to race across Rachel's lips, moistening them, as she sits up straight. "Don't you think it's…maybe still a little soon for that?" she challenges carefully. "I mean, we've only been married a year."

"But we've been together for more than five, and we've known each other practically half our lives," Quinn argues gently, holding onto her hopefulness despite Rachel's obvious hesitancy. A tender smile forms on her lips as she reaches over to slip her fingers in between Rachel's in a loose hold. "I'm ready to start a family with you, Rach."

Rachel's fingers tighten around Quinn's for just a moment before she untangles their hands. "I have the show right now," she says, quietly darting her eyes away. "This really isn't the best time to think about having a baby."

"I'm not suggesting that we start trying to conceive right now," Quinn explains with her stomach beginning to churn unpleasantly at Rachel's obvious reluctance, "but I thought we could start talking about our options and decide exactly when we do want to start trying. Maybe we could even time it for some time next fall, after you finish the show."

Rachel drags in an uneven breath. "I…I just think we should wait awhile longer."

The churning gets worse, making Quinn feel a little bit nauseous. "How much longer?"

Rachel's hands twist together in her lap. "I can't really predict my career path, Quinn. If Confessions is a flop and closes right away, I'm going to be looking for another project because, honestly, I'm not ready to take an extended break from the stage just yet," she admits in a rush of breath, shaking her head. "It might be another two or three years before I would be, and you know I've been considering the possibility of trying to record an album, not to mention breaking into television. Everything is still so uncertain right now, and we should really build up our nest egg a little more and maybe think about getting a bigger apartment before we consider making any life altering decisions. And a baby is," she shakes her head, biting back an uneasy laugh, "a really big life-altering decision."

Quinn's stomach bottoms out completely, leaving her sick with disappointment. She inhales deeply, feeling the oxygen burn her lungs before exhaling slowly. "You're always going to find reason to say no, aren't you," she realizes miserably, not bothering to make it sound like a question.

Beside her, Rachel flinches. "I'm not saying no," she denies—her anxious gaze darting back to meet Quinn's wounded eyes. "I'm saying not now. It's just…it's really soon, Quinn. I thought we agreed to wait."

A bitter laugh slips past Quinn's pursed lips. "We agreed to wait two years ago, after we got engaged. You know…when you swore you wanted what I wanted," she reminds her wife sharply. She makes no attempt to mask her frustration with Rachel's reaction—the convenient excuses in a poor attempt to disguise her obvious lack of desire to start a family.

"I did," Rachel is quick to insist and even quicker to amend it to, "I do," at Quinn's accusing glare. "This just isn't the best time for us to have a child."

Quinn shakes her head, pressing a hand to her forehead as she battles back the tears that she can feel threatening to spill from stinging eyes. "The perfect moment isn't just going to magically present itself, Rachel. You know that, right?" she asks tiredly, dropping her hand. "There'll always be another show or an album or a guest appearance, and you're always going to want to take that next project." Quinn knows her wife too well to expect anything less, but, "If you really want us to have a family, you have to be willing to make your own best time."

Rachel's lips purse into a thin line, and her hands begin to fidget in her lap again. "I can't just…arbitrarily put my career on the backburner to schedule in a pregnancy, Quinn."

"I'm not asking you to!" Quinn exclaims, throwing out her hands in supplication. "Having a baby doesn't mean you have to sacrifice your career. I want you to have that, Rachel. I want you to have everything." How can she not comprehend that by now?

"I'll happily be the one to carry our baby and stay home with him or her," she continues in a softer tone—her temper melting away at the mere thought of what their future could hold. "I have it all planned out in my head. I've been planning it for the last year…longer, if I'm being honest," she confesses with a sad smile, feeling a bit of the moisture that's been gathering in her eyes spill over onto her cheek, and she reflexively lifts a hand to brush it away. "I want to do this for us…for you." She reaches over to cover one of Rachel's hands with her own, and Rachel glances away guiltily. "But you have to want me to, and…I don't feel like you really do," she concedes unhappily, letting her hand slide away.

"That's not true," Rachel argues, brown eyes flying back to hers. "Just because I want us to wait…"

"For what?" Quinn cuts in sharply. "What are we waiting for, Rachel? The proverbial right time that doesn't actually exist? Another Tony? A Grammy? The Emmy and Oscar to complete the quartet?" she fires out, hearing her voice catch as she rapidly loses the battle with her tears. With every desperate question, she watches Rachel's posture grow increasingly more defensive—all crossed arms, tense jaw, and glistening eyes—but Quinn can't seem to stop herself. "Are we waiting for me to win a literary award or for my books to be made into movies? Or until we're in our thirties? Or are you waiting for me to change my mind again?"

"I'm not waiting for anything," Rachel finally snaps, standing up from the sofa in jerky movements and pacing a few steps away before spinning to face Quinn with a pained expression. "I'm just not ready yet. That doesn't make me a terrible person, Quinn. Or a...a liar," she stammers out, angrily swiping at the tear spilling down over her own cheek. "You said you understood. You said you'd love me regardless of any hypothetical children we may or may not have."

"I do love you," Quinn promises quietly as she stares up at her wife with longing. "I love you so much that I dream about seeing that love brought to life in a child of our own," she confesses, closing her eyes as she wraps her arms around her stomach protectively. She can feel the ache that's been growing there for so long—the yearning for them to create their own little family. "A son or daughter to love and nurture and share a lifetime of moments filled with laughter and music and stories and walks in the park." Quinn opens her eyes to see Rachel's sorrowful expression. "It hurts to think that you might not want the same thing."

"I…I do want that," Rachel vows tearfully, sniffling as she wipes the moisture from her cheeks, "and eventually…we can…"

"Stop!" Quinn rasps, holding up a desperate hand to stave off another one of Rachel's empty promises. "Please stop saying that," she pleads, standing on unsteady legs to meet Rachel on equal ground. "You keep putting me off with someday and eventually, butthey never seem to translate into an actual plan. You, Rachel Berry, with the life plan and the perfect picture of your future and spreadsheets and PowerPoints, have no plan for us to start a family," she points out with a hollow laugh. "Had you even given any thought at all about us having a baby before I brought it up again?"

She knows the answer before Rachel even opens her mouth—can see it advertised in every tense line of Rachel's posture like a neon sign over Broadway. "Not in the concrete sense," she mutters defensively, refusing to meet Quinn's eyes. "But I've had other things on my mind, Quinn. I'm sorry that my biological clock isn't on the same cycle as yours."

"Is it even ticking at all?" Quinn challenges, feeling her heart break at the confirmation that she's alone in her desire for a child and has been all along.

Huffing, Rachel throws out her hands in exasperation. "I just don't understand why this has to be all or nothing right this minute. Why can't we just put this conversation on hold until we're both ready?"

"You mean until you're ready," Quinn corrects heatedly. "Except you have no idea when that will be, you can't even offer me a general timeframe, and you just made it clear that your career is more important to you than making time to start a family. So I'm sorry, Rachel, but that feels like we're falling on the nothing end of the spectrum to me."

"Because you're stubbornly refusing to comprehend the difference between never and not right now," Rachel cries, catching Quinn's hand with both of hers and pleading, "Why can't we just wait a few more years?"

A humorless laugh falls into the air between them. "You've never been willing to wait for anything you really want, Rachel. You go after it with both hands," Quinn accuses, glancing down to the spot where Rachel is attempting to do exactly that right now before gently tugging her hand out of Rachel's grasp, "and even when your plans turn out to be complete and utter crap, you still cling to them until the bitter end, so forgive me if what I'm comprehending by your utter lack of initiative in all of this is that you just don't care enough about us ever having a baby to carve out a place in your busy schedule to make it happen," she spits out sourly.

"You are willfully misconstruing what I'm telling you, Quinn."

Quinn growls under her breath, wishing Rachel would just admit the truth and put her out of her misery. She drags her hands over her face in exhaustion before pushing them through her hair. "Then let's make a plan, Rachel," she practically begs, giving Rachel another chance to meet her halfway. "You say you're not ready to have a baby right now. Okay. I can deal with that. I can wait a year. I can wait two," she concedes, ignoring her own longing to have a baby before she turns thirty because she already gave birth to a daughter who's swiftly approaching her teens. "But let's set it in stone. Let's pick a time when we think we'll be ready to start trying. Let's set a specific goal for our bank accounts and save our money and start looking for new apartments with an extra bedroom. We can do that now, can't we? Start making some of the changes we need to make to get ready for a baby?"

Rachel's eyes are panicked in the seconds before she closes them, shutting Quinn out. "I...I don't know what you want me to say," she whispers brokenly.

The last of Quinn's hope comes crashing down around her feet, and she chokes back a sob. "I think you just said it," she manages around the thickness in her throat.

Tearful brown eyes fly open, and Rachel reaches for her. "Quinn, baby..."

"Don't," Quinn rasps, shrugging off her touch before sniffling wretchedly. "Don't you dare baby me right now, Rachel. I can't," she cries, hastily swiping at her tears as she shakily turns away. "I can't be here," she mumbles, moving toward the apartment door—needing to be away from Rachel right now.

"Wait," Rachel calls out desperately, hurrying after her. "Where are you going?"

"For a walk," Quinn grits out, blindly grabbing for her purse as she passes by the table.

"Don't," Rachel pleads, catching her hand again. "It's getting late. Just…just stay here and we can work through this."

"No, we can't!" Quinn denies sharply, staring at her wife in disbelief.

Rachel's eyes widen in horror, and her lower lip starts to tremble. "What…what do you mean, we can't?"

"You don't want a baby. I do. So we can't work through anything right now," Quinn informs her stiffly, shaking free of Rachel's grip. "I need time and space to work through my disappointment and…and heartbreak on my own," she explains mournfully, letting her tears fall unimpeded, "and you need to let me have that, Rachel. Can you? Can you at least let me have that?"

Quinn doesn't wait for an answer—it doesn't matter anyway. She's already out the door when she hears Rachel tearfully call out her name, but she doesn't stop walking.

She'd let herself hope—let herself dream about their future. She'd so clearly imagined a little girl with dark hair and brown eyes dancing around their legs as they'd walked in the park and a little boy with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes climbing a tree while she'd hovered underneath him to make sure he didn't fall. She'd pictured Rachel right there beside her with that one of a kind smile, beaming with pride at their family. She'd let herself believe that Rachel would be as excited as she was to make those dreams come true.

Now Quinn doesn't know what to think or how to feel.

It's not that Rachel isn't enough for her—she's been the most important person in Quinn's life for so long (other than Beth)—but Rachel had let her think that one day they'd make room in their life for a child or two of their own. Quinn had set aside a space in her heart and let it grow, but now that space only feels empty.

Pressing a palm to her chest, Quinn exits the building and walks aimlessly along the sidewalk with no destination in mind, praying the air will help clear her head and ease the ache in her heart so she can be happy with Rachel again—just the two of them.

Someday.

Maybe.

Eventually.


¹"June Bride," Seven Brides for Seven Brothers