Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.
AN: I really just wanted to write about them being surgeons, and this is what emerged. I have kind of an idea where it's all going, but I'm as much on this ride as everyone else is. Hope you're all well.
I
"Who is that?"
Blaine Anderson looks up from the medical chart he's currently reading, brow creased at the sound of Rachel Berry's question. "Who's who?"
Rachel gestures across the Emergency Room with her head, indicating to a blonde teenager sitting behind the nurse's station and chatting rather amicably with Mercedes and Sam.
Blaine blinks a number of times. "Oh, that's Beth," he says.
"Who is Beth?" Rachel presses, convinced she's going to have to pull teeth to get some kind of useful answer from the trauma surgeon.
Blaine frowns at her. "Don't you know who Beth is?"
Rachel would roll her eyes, but she's trying to be a professional. "Obviously not," she says. "That's why I'm asking you."
"Huh," he muses. "Weird. I could have sworn Quinn would have told you."
Rachel stiffens at the mention of the blonde's name, and her reaction is visible enough that Blaine winces, internally berating himself for making it awkward.
"Um."
Rachel waves a hand. "It's okay," she dismisses, but it clearly isn't. Quinn Fabray is a... touchy subject, and Blaine should know better than to bring up the woman. Least of all in front of Rachel.
Huh.
Speak of the devil.
Rachel can't help that her eyes are automatically drawn to the woman when she enters the Emergency Room through the hospital's entrance, the sliding doors opening to reveal her in all her dark blue scrubs and white coat glory. She's addressing a pair of residents, who are both looking at her as if she hangs the moon.
The worst part is that Quinn obviously knows it, and she loves it, if the slight smirk on her face is anything to go on. Still, her eyes take in the large room, briefly pausing on Rachel, who doesn't bother to hide the fact she's watching her - before finally settling on the nurses' station.
Rachel watches, a little transfixed, as Quinn sends off the residents with her to do some task as she approaches the station, her smirk transforming into something genuine. It's a look Rachel has seen only once before, and seeing it now is jarring.
A throat clears behind her, and she turns to see Blaine eyeing her curiously. "Staring is rude, you know," he comments.
Rachel rolls her eyes, but it's enough to get her to keep her eyes off Quinn. Her chest is already filled with an abundance of confusing emotions to last a lifetime, and she doesn't have the time to dwell, either way.
Rachel clears her own throat, and then asks, "So, what do you think?" about the file Blaine is still reading through. "It's what I think it is, isn't it?"
Blaine nods, sombre. "You already know that, though," he points out. "So, what did you need to come to me for?"
Rachel presses her lips together. "The procedure I want to do," she starts, but she needn't continue, because Blaine seems to get it immediately.
"Oh," he says. "Quinn's procedure."
"You're the only one she's actually trained to do it in this hospital," Rachel points out.
"Are you asking me to do it, or are you asking me to ask her to do it?" he asks, and Rachel can't bring herself to answer. Because she doesn't know what she wants, and she doesn't know if Quinn would even say yes if Blaine asked.
She definitely wouldn't if she asked.
But that would require them to be talking to each other, and they've somehow managed to get through the past three months without that happening. It helps that they rarely have to work together, Quinn's specialties found elsewhere. She's something of a niche acquisition, arriving post-dual-fellowship, and basically ruining Rachel's life.
And, it isn't said unkindly - even if it initially was - but Quinn has been a thorn in her side since she first stepped into New Budapest Hospital just six months ago. She arrived in the middle of a mass trauma, easily slipping into the hierarchy and lending hands whenever she was needed.
Until she encountered Rachel, who was having her own off day, stressed out beyond belief about an ex-husband, an ex-boyfriend and an ex-mother. At the time, the last thing she needed was a cocky trauma surgeon insulting her technique, and then immediately hitting on her in her next breath.
It was a bad day to hit on Rachel Berry, and the idiotic woman just found it amusing. A challenge, she called it, and Rachel made the mistake or reacting in some way.
The biggest mistake.
Well, okay, the biggest mistake Rachel actually came just two months and two weeks after their initial meeting, when she did the unthinkable and gave in.
To the sex.
Which was great.
Mind-blowing, really.
Earth-shattering, though Rachel would never - even on her death bed - admit that to anyone, least of all to Quinn. It was the best sex of her life, hot and heavy and dirty, and she still flushes just thinking about it.
Thirteen days of sneaking kisses and touches, making out in empty corridors and getting off in locked on-call rooms. Just thirteen days of enduring Quinn's smug, unrepentant expression, knowing she'd given in to the woman who'd already slept through their sapphically-inclined residents.
Just thirteen days... for it all to fall apart.
Now, Rachel doesn't think they would ever have actually become something. Quinn isn't the type of woman Rachel would have considered settling down with, given her general attitude to life and relationships, but even Rachel didn't think it would end so spectacularly.
And publicly.
Disastrously. Horribly. Just, every awful adverb that exists.
Blaine taps her shoulder, jolting her from her memories and bringing her right back to reality. She audibly swallows, ignoring the concern in his eyes. The problem with having such a public affair is that everyone already thinks they know what happened... and the worst part is that they do.
Nothing has been secret. It played out right in front of everyone. Two and a half months of heavy flirting and public foreplay, thirteen days of debauchery, and then the ending to mark all endings.
A rash decision, a bold choice, a risky surgery and an unnecessary death.
"It's fine," Rachel tells him. "I'll talk to her."
Blaine's brow creases with worry. "Do you think that's a good idea?" he asks.
"I told you I'm fine," she reiterates.
Blaine's frown deepens. "It's not you I'm worried about," he murmurs.
"What?"
But, before he can explain what he means, they're interrupted by Marley, who has a tablet in her hand and a hopeful look on her face, eyes focused on Rachel.
Rachel resists her desire to sigh, trying to remember what she was like when she was still a resident like Marley. She was still so eager to learn, and she knows she's going to have to reignite her desire to teach if she plans to be at all useful.
Holding out a hand, she silently asks for the tablet. "What do you need, Dr Rose?"
"Seriously," Rachel says, more to herself; "who is that?"
"Hmm?"
Rachel glances at Jesse, almost forgetting he's sitting with her, since he's been fiddling with his phone since they arrived at the hospital's cafeteria. They definitely get along better now than they ever did as a married couple, but she still finds his lack of attention irritating. It's always as if he's somewhere else.
"That girl," Rachel says. "Sitting with Sam and Q-Quinn."
Jesse perks up at the sound of that, his smile more of a smirk. "Why do you care?" he asks, and she bristles at whatever his tone might be implying.
"I don't," she immediately says, frowning. "I'm just curious."
"Uh huh," he says, clearly not believing her. "And, that's Beth."
Rachel resists the urge to groan. Or growl. "But, who is she?"
Jesse eyes her, his gaze searching. "God, do you really not know?" he asks. "How do you not know?" He frowns. "Quinn spent two and a half months chasing you, Rachel. She must have told you about Beth."
Rachel is aware she's missing something, but she can't quite figure out what. It's right there, but she doesn't have the chance to question him further, because Sam is suddenly standing over their table, eyes on only Jesse.
Not that Rachel blames him. He's obviously chosen Quinn in this whole mess.
"Dr St James," Sam says. "Might I have a word?"
Rachel can't quite explain what happens to Jesse's face, because she's convinced she's reading it wrong. That is not... arousal. It can't be.
Wait.
Jesse gets to his feet after a slight hesitation, says something to Rachel she doesn't quite catch, and then they're both gone. Rachel watches them walk away, eyes trained on their backs, as if they're going to give her answers to questions she hasn't even yet formulated.
Her gaze eventually drifts back to Quinn, surprised to find her sitting alone as she continues eating her salad. Rachel's eyes search for Beth, spotting her back in the cafeteria line, visibly contemplating what more to get.
Rachel thinks it's as good a time as any to approach Quinn about possibly doing the procedure Rachel needs done. It's nothing truly fancy, but the equipment used is under Quinn's patent, and why not go straight to the source?
Steeling herself, Rachel gets to her feet. She pauses long enough to gather her trash, quickly disposing of it, and then makes her way towards where Quinn is sitting.
It's really only when she's standing in front of the woman that she realises this probably should have been done in a more private setting. Nurses and technicians and doctors scattered around the cafeteria are obviously trying not to watch the interaction, eager for more gossip, but it's too late to turn around now. She's here, and Quinn is looking at her expectantly, if not guardedly.
The guarded look is new, recent in a way that Rachel barely recognises her when it's directed at her.
"Dr Fabray," Rachel says, ever polite. "Sorry to bother you during your lunch, but I have this patient," she starts, and something in Quinn's gaze shifts. She switches from Quinn to Dr Fabray, and Rachel won't admit just how relieved she is as she explains just what she needs from the woman who has done exactly as requested and left her alone for twelve weeks.
Quinn listens patiently, and then nods once, smiling at something over Rachel's shoulder. Beth, apparently, who approaches a little hesitantly behind Rachel.
Quinn looks back at Rachel once Beth has resumed her seat, eyeing her apprehensively. "I can do it," Quinn tells Rachel, which is surprising. Rachel expected to have to do more convincing. "When are you planning to perform the procedure?"
Rachel blinks. "Oh, um, I still have to schedule it," she says. "But, probably some time tomorrow."
"Okay," Quinn says. "Just let me know." And then she looks away, breathing evenly, and Rachel wonders if the conversation has taken as much out of her as it has Rachel.
Rachel just nods, dismissing herself and walking away, just as Beth asks, "Who is that?"
She doesn't linger to hear Quinn's reply.
Rachel isn't usually one for experimental methods when children are involved, but she's suddenly very on board with every possible clinical trial on offer when it comes to her patient, Henry Garcia.
She isn't one for picking favourites, but he's definitely her favourite.
He's tiny for a six-year-old, with wide, brown eyes that make it very difficult for Rachel to be anything other than severely affected after every visit she makes to his room.
She makes a point to visit him, even after her Rounds, just for the pleasure of spending time with him. He has the most adorable, toothless smile, and it lifts her mood just to see him, even if it simultaneously breaks her heart.
The visits usually aren't long, given his low energy and her busy schedule. It's just that her day doesn't go as well when she doesn't see him, so she makes sure not to risk it. She has a lot to get through, and she needs all the good vibes she can get.
It's when she's leaving the Ward that she sees her. Rachel usually passes by the playroom, just to soak up a bit more joy, and today is no different.
Only.
That's when she spots Beth sitting on a stool, tiny human beings huddled around her as she reads a story from a book in her lap. Her voice is soothing, lilting and inflecting as she switches voices to match whoever is speaking and gets excited giggles from the kids.
Rachel doesn't even know why she's so intrigued by this girl. It's probably in relation to Quinn and how everyone else seems to know this teenager, but Rachel can't help it. She's curious.
Rachel stands in the doorway and watches, unsure how she feels. She knows Quinn used to come in here all the time, keen to visit the kids, just to play and read with them.
And then she stopped. When Rachel asked her to.
Because this is Rachel's domain. Her place, and Quinn is 'respectful' enough to give her at least that much. So... where does Beth fit in? Who is she?
Rachel startles a little when Beth suddenly stops talking, her attention on a girl who's just started to cry. Anna. Rachel moves to step forward, but Beth slides off her stool and settles right in front of the little girl.
Rachel freezes in place, watching as Beth whispers to Anna, voice so quiet that Rachel can't hear a word. It's for the best, she thinks. Anna calms considerably, and Beth even moves her shirt collar to the side to reveal a scar on the skin just below her collarbone.
A port scar.
She's smiling, and so is Anna, and Rachel feels a little sucker-punched, because this Beth must be a patient. Of course, she's a patient. Who else would she be?
It's the moment Beth glances up, spotting her in the doorway. Her smile slips a little, looking worried that she's somehow misstepped, but Rachel just manages a smile to reassure her.
Beth breathes out in relief, and the smile she offers in reply looks just a bit too familiar.
Sam schedules Rachel's procedure for the following day, his eyebrows scrunching together when she mentions that Quinn will be taking lead.
He blinks once, twice, and then asks, "And you'll be assisting?"
Rachel feels a flare of irritation, but she just asks, "Is that a hickey on your neck?" rather pointedly, and the chief resident doesn't make further comment as he makes a note of the surgery.
Before, Rachel enjoyed the fact she and Quinn managed to sync their schedules well enough that they could leave the hospital at the same time. Before, she enjoyed the banter in the Attending Lounge and parking lot, pretending every word Quinn said grated on her nerves.
Well, at first she didn't have to pretend. Quinn was - is - an arrogant asshole. Pretty much the definition of an egotistical jerk, and she's flirty and condescending, and she managed to get it into her head that Rachel was possibly interested in her. In any way.
Rachel hates to admit that the attempts to flirt with her became less annoying and more amusing, mainly because she learned Quinn found herself equally as sensational with all the words that left her mouth.
Rachel admits to being dismissive, caught between enjoying the attention and rebuffing the surgeon completely. Given her situation with -
Well.
It doesn't matter now.
What does matter is that she's walking behind Quinn and Beth as they also leave the hospital. The foyer is large enough that her footsteps go unnoticed, and she feels a little creepy following behind them, already knowing they're headed in the direction of the same subway station.
It would be cowardly to turn around and leave after a few minutes, and Rachel has already done enough cowardly things in the past few months. She doesn't have enough fingers and toes to count them.
Rachel hears Beth say, "Five bucks says I can convince you to make pancakes for dinner," which earns a laugh from Quinn that hits Rachel square in the chest. Rachel's heard that laugh a handful of times, but not nearly as many times as she once wished.
Still wishes, sometimes, but she's still angry enough to ignore that desire.
"That's practically a bribe," Quinn says in return, and Rachel has so missed the sound of her voice when she's not in doctor-mode. It's softer, less abrupt. But it's also different to how Quinn sounds, as if she's reserved this tone of voice for only Beth.
"Pancakes, Quinn," Beth says. "Don't tell me you don't want some."
"If I had everything I wanted..." Quinn says, her voice trailing off as she grows sombre. Rachel feels her heart skip a beat at the turn in her voice, and she watches as Beth skips a few steps and throws an arm over Quinn's shoulders.
And then she says, "Oh, come on, we both know I think you're the cooler mom," and Rachel can't possibly contain the gasp that leaves her mouth.
It's audible enough that both blondes abruptly stop walking, and Quinn turns to look at her. The expression on her face is something Rachel has never seen, because Quinn has never looked at her like that. It is hard and cold, and there is something deeply hurt there that Rachel almost wants to cross the space between them and touch her.
Quinn waves Beth on and says, "Beth, honey, I'm right behind you."
Beth looks unsurely between them for a moment, and then turns and puts some distance between herself and the two women.
Quinn waits until Beth is out of earshot to give Rachel that same guarded look, eyes asking a question Rachel won't bother to answer. She hasn't done anything wrong.
When Rachel doesn't say anything, Quinn puffs out an annoyed breath. "See you for the procedure tomorrow, Dr Berry," she says, and then starts to turn away.
"You have a daughter?" Rachel suddenly blurts, wincing at the sound of her own voice.
Quinn halts, but doesn't look back. All she says is, "Not as heartless as you think, huh?" and then keeps walking.
No, Rachel supposes, not at all.
Rachel contemplates calling her father when she gets back to her apartment, wondering if she can spin some tale to get some information on Quinn. As the Chief of Surgery, he was responsible for her hiring, which means he must know more about her story.
If Quinn really does have a daughter, how is it possible that Rachel doesn't know? Rachel won't admit it, but she's scoured Quinn's social media, and she can't remember finding anything on a child.
And, frankly, Beth looks old enough to be at least sixteen, maybe seventeen. Quinn can't possibly be her actual mother. Surely. That would mean -
Well.
Rachel isn't going to judge.
It's just a thought, and merely the idea of Quinn being an actual mother shifts Rachel's last conversation - on that final day, when she asked Quinn just to leave her alone - into some kind of painful perspective.
Rachel has felt guilty about it a handful of times - usually when she's sad and a little drunk on wine - but never enough to do something about it. To apologise, or tell Quinn she's forgiven. Because Rachel hasn't forgiven her, and she can't foresee a day she actually does.
Although, what there is to forgive... well, even Rachel wouldn't be able to tell you.
That day - that last day, when Quinn's face crumpled into the passive one she now wears around Rachel - is all a bit of a blur. It happened so quickly and so slowly at the same time, and Rachel doesn't think her heart has actually managed to catch up to what it's been through in the last few months.
With a sigh, Rachel pours herself a generous glass of wine and settles in front of her television with some leftovers to watch some mind-numbing television. Her heart aches with something like regret and longing, and it takes one peek at her phone to know why.
Jesse mentioned that Quinn 'chased' her for two and a half months, and Rachel might have scoffed at the terminology, but she knows the truth of it. She might have been an asshole the entire time, but Quinn was so present in Rachel's phone for those few weeks that the radio silence has been deafening.
Quinn is gone.
But so is Finn.
And Rachel will never forgive Quinn for that.
Quinn is already scrubbed in and ready to go by the time Rachel arrives at the operating room. The woman is casually talking to the anaesthetist, Dr Robyn Hendricks, and their patient, Henry. Rachel can't see behind her mask, but she's sure Quinn is smiling.
And both Robyn and Henry are looking at her as if she's revealing secrets of the universe. She probably is, for all Rachel knows, and she wonders if she ever looked at Quinn that way.
When Quinn notices her arrival, her expression shifts, but not enough that little Henry would notice. Robyn does, though, and Rachel is awarded with something that resembles a glare. She frowns slightly, because she was sure Robyn at least didn't hate her.
Well.
"All set?" Quinn asks the room, though it's clearly directed at Rachel.
Henry answers with a tired, but enthusiastic, "Yes," and it's enough to get the entire room moving into position.
Now, Rachel knows about Quinn's OR routines. She has all these little quirks about her - whether they're superstitions or some kind of compulsions, she doesn't know - so she's surprised when Quinn does none of them. She just smiles at Henry, and then allows Robyn to do her work.
Rachel hasn't even discussed Henry with Quinn, but she learned from Marley that Quinn requested files on his case the previous evening. Quinn is definitely up to speed, and Rachel isn't really worried.
Just, the fact Quinn doesn't do her normal preparations makes her nervous. What if something goes wrong? Why isn't Quinn humming or doing that ridiculous spinning thing she does before she starts? Why doesn't she address everyone in the room the way she normally does? Why isn't she -
It takes Rachel far too long to figure it's because she's in the room.
Quinn is very much Dr Fabray in the moment. As she was when she emerged from that OR that fateful day, her expression unreadable and her demeanour giving nothing away.
As soon as Henry is knocked out and comfortable, Quinn begins, her facial expression falling into something severe. The concentration in her features has always been the sexiest thing about her: the narrowing of her eyes, the firm set of her mouth, the tightness of her jaw and the crease in her forehead. It all just adds to her appeal, and it's really the first time Rachel notices just how many of the other men and women in the room watch her.
Oh.
That's what Robyn's glare was about. Rachel wonders if Quinn and Robyn are involved for exactly zero-point-six seconds before she scraps that thought, because she doesn't care.
She doesn't.
The rest of the procedure goes smoothly, Quinn quiet for most of it, beyond teasing a nurse about her Superman scrub cap. The entire thing is quick, Rachel reacting to Quinn's verbal and non-verbal cues. Henry will experience some discomfort for a few days, but even Rachel has to admit that Quinn is a brilliant surgeon.
She's very good with her hands.
Rachel has never been more relieved she's wearing a mask to hide her blush than in that moment, because that's the last thing she should be thinking about. Henry is literally lying on the operating table in front of them.
Between them.
It really is best when there's some kind of physical barrier between the two of them. The draw to Quinn is sometimes magnetic, and Rachel knew, even back then, she was fighting a losing battle. Despite her heart and head wanting nothing to do with the woman, her body misses her.
"That should do it," Quinn finally says, eyeing her handiwork rather critically. She's a bit of a perfectionist, Rachel has learned, and she takes every procedure very personally.
It's the complete opposite to the persona she projects outside of the operating room.
"Is there anything else you need from me?" Quinn asks, directing the question straight at Rachel. It's the first conversation she's really initiated in so long, and Rachel wonders if the question could apply to something else.
Everything else.
Still, Rachel shakes her head. "I can take it from here," she says.
Quinn nods once, and then steps away from Henry. She thanks the people around her, spares a wink in Robyn's direction, and then starts to leave.
"Quinn?" Rachel's mouth says before she can stop it.
She turns, pausing in her motion of removing her protective equipment.
"I - uh," Rachel starts, stutters. "Thank you."
Quinn doesn't react for a moment, but then she tips her head once more, and then leaves the operating room without another word.
Rachel's eyes linger on the space she's just vacated until the sound of a throat clearing snaps her back to reality.
She's fine.
She is.
Rachel doesn't expect to find Beth reading to the children in the Paediatric Ward again, but it's still unsurprising that she does. If Beth was one of these kids for any chunk of time, then she should know how it feels to be stuck in the hospital while the rest of the kids get to be outside and experience the world.
Anything new and exciting is welcomed, and Beth is one of those things.
Rachel looks in for a moment, and then goes to check on her patients. She reads up on latest vitals and spends precious minutes making sure her patients - and their parents - know she's doing everything she can to keep them healthy and happy.
She doesn't always win. In fact, lately, she's had more losses than she's ever had in her career, and it strikes her that her entire world tilted right over something like three months ago.
When Quinn -
And -
It doesn't even matter. They're thoughts she has when she has way too much to drink, anyway, and when she's feeling sorry for herself. She knows everyone in this damn hospital knows what happened, and she also knows that far too many of them probably side with Quinn in this whole mess, but she's the Chief's daughter, and nobody would ever say anything to her face.
Except Santana Lopez, but that's an entire other story, for another day.
Once she's done her rounds, Rachel stops off at the nurses' station to order some scans for Henry, a few blood tests for Will, and a different set of antibiotics for Ellie.
It's there, in that moment, that she speaks to Beth for the first time. She's just finished up with her paperwork when she senses someone approaching, and she turns her head to spot the teenager, who's wearing a disarming smile.
"So, you're Dr Rachel," Beth says, moving to stand beside Rachel at the nurses' station.
Rachel can't think of a suitable response beyond, "You've heard of me?"
Beth almost rolls her eyes. "Little Jenna won't shut up about you," she says, which Rachel doesn't expect. She's sure Quinn must have had plenty to tell her, given the way the two women left things. "And Byron said you have the voice of an angel."
"He's biased," Rachel deflects. "I give him the good drugs."
Beth smiles then, more of a grin, and Rachel sees Quinn in her for the first time that she can actually recognise. "I sometimes miss the good drugs," she admits with an exaggerated sigh.
Rachel wants to ask, but she doesn't think it's her place.
Beth must be able to read her curiosity in her expression because she decides to elaborate on her own. "I had a tumour on my spine," she explains. "Mom says it was the size of a tennis ball, and I still hate that they didn't let me keep it when they took it out. I named it Spike."
Rachel lets out an unexpected laugh, because this kid isn't what she anticipated.
"The chemo was rough," Beth says, pulling a face. "Mom was a wreck most of the time, but Quinn was - she held it together so well. She came to every session she could, and she used to read to me for hours and hours. Sometimes, it was even her own work."
Because, yeah, Quinn once mentioned that she writes as something of a hobby. Rachel knows that.
"She told me I'm the reason she even decided to pursue Medicine, at all." Beth rolls her eyes. "Told me she wanted to save all the other little kids like me."
Rachel feels her mouth spread into an unwitting smile, because, while it doesn't sound like Quinn, it sounds exactly like her, at the same time.
"It came back her intern year," Beth says, growing sombre; "and she almost quit the program to look after Mom and me, but I reminded her about all the other kids she said she was going to save."
Rachel wonders, with all these promises, why did Quinn go into trauma?
"I think she still gets a shock when I tell her I want to be like her when I grow up," Beth says, looking a little wistful. "I mean, she was basically my age when I arrived, and she claims she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, so I'm basically ahead of the game. All I know is I also want to help little kids the way she does."
Rachel freezes. "Also?" she questions, speaking for the first time.
"Oh, right," Beth says, shrugging. "She doesn't do that anymore at this hospital."
That is - that is news. Does that mean Quinn is a Paediatric surgeon? Why doesn't Rachel know that? And, why isn't Quinn working in this department, then?
Wait.
Why would her father hire someone else in Paediatrics when he has her?
Well.
He didn't always, so it makes sense he would make some kind of arrangement to fill her position. To surpass her position.
Whoa.
Did Rachel take the position Quinn was originally hired to fill? No wonder she looks so amused whenever Rachel talks about their respective specialties as if hers is superior.
"So… she wasn't your doctor?" Rachel finds herself asking, because, despite what may or may not have been revealed the night before - and even today - she's still confused about it.
"No," Beth says, frowning lightly. "I thought doctors couldn't treat family."
"Well, yeah, but - "
"She's my mother, Dr Rachel," Beth says, as if Rachel is some kind of idiot. "She gave birth to me. Shouldn't you know that?"
And, yeah, Rachel probably should know that, because everyone else seems to. How did she miss that? Was she just not paying enough attention to Quinn's life beyond, well, her?
That makes some kind of sense, because Rachel has been stuck in her own head for much longer than she's even known Quinn. It's why she's in this mess in the first place, isn't it?
Her life was in tatters when she met Quinn, and nothing much has changed since. The one thing she's holding onto is her career, and even that went wildly off track after the divorce and then her ill-fated relationship with one of the orderlies.
One would think she would have learned to date outside the hospital before Quinn, and she likes to think that's the reason she held off for as long as she did. And yet, that relationship - if one can even call it that - ended even more horrifically than her actual marriage.
Beth turns her body fully to face her, brow creased. "That day, in the cafeteria, I didn't know who you were," she says. "Quinn doesn't really talk about her love life if she can help it, because she knows I don't like the fact she doesn't usually take her romantic relationships seriously."
Rachel feels her own heart squeeze at the word 'love,' because that can't be accurate. It's just an expression people use. There was never actually any love between them. Just lust.
"But, it was different with you," Beth says, and, as much as Rachel wants to deny it; she knows the teenager is right. It was different. Because, as much as Quinn played the field when she first arrived, there was a part of her that was always interested in only Rachel.
Still.
It doesn't matter now.
What's done is done, and Rachel isn't interested in fixing anything. If she even could.
"She called me that night," Beth says, stepping forward and dropping the volume of her voice. Rachel doesn't even have to wonder what night she's talking about. "She called me, and there was something in her voice that I'd never heard before, and I hope I never do again. She asked me if I knew she loved me. She asked me if she showed it enough; if I could tell, and I've never understood why that would have been a worry of hers until I got here."
Rachel audibly swallows, memories of that day flooding her mind and forcing herself to remember the horrible circumstances that got them to this position. She accused Quinn of being incapable of love. She spat the words right in her face, calling her heartless and selfish and accusing her of not understanding the way Rachel felt because she couldn't even feel anything.
Sometimes, she hates herself for it.
And, sometimes, she convinces herself she doesn't care.
Other times, it barely even matters.
"I don't know what she's told you - " Rachel starts, but Beth cuts her off.
"That's just it," she says, and she sounds so much like Quinn that Rachel has to blink twice; "she's told me nothing." Her eyes are cold now. "And, from what I know of my own mother, that tells me a hell of a lot more than it doesn't."
Rachel has no actual response for her, and Beth takes her silence for what it is.
"I'm sorry you think her so incapable of love," Beth says. "She obviously didn't show you well enough."
It's really the first time Rachel has the urge to defend Quinn, because it's not Quinn's fault Rachel wasn't paying enough attention. That she resisted so much.
Beth eyes her closely, reading her as if she's an open book. "Or, she did, and you just didn't notice," she offers as the alternative. At Rachel's silence, she sighs. "Well, it doesn't matter now."
Which should be true, but Rachel gets the feeling it still does.
Rachel doesn't want to deal with whatever Beth may or may not have revealed to her about what Quinn might have felt for her, so she decides to deal with the professional aspect of the revelation.
She finds her father in his office, poring over an endless amount of paperwork. He's always busy, moving from meeting to meeting, working on budgets and scrubbing in on surgeries whenever he's lucky or they just needs all hands on deck. It's not exactly a job she envies, though they all seem to be working toward Chief of Surgery.
One day, maybe, when she's tired of chasing after surgeries.
Her knock draws his attention, and he smiles automatically. There have been times when their relationship has been fraught with tension, but they seem to be in a better place. Especially after the disaster that was that last day with Quinn. And Finn.
"Sweetheart," he says, beaming at her. "What brings you by?"
She steps into his office and closes the door behind her. She's not really sure how she wants to phrase her question, but what ends up coming out is: "Why did you hire Quinn?"
He's obviously surprised by the question, his mouth dropping open rather comically. "Um," he starts, and then stops. Breathes. "She's a brilliant surgeon, Rachel. You know that."
And, the thing is that Rachel does know. "But, why did you hire her? For which position?"
LeRoy pauses, his pen frozen in his hand. "What do you mean?"
"She's a board-certified paediatric surgeon," Rachel says.
"I'm aware."
"And, so am I," Rachel says.
"I'm also aware of that."
"Why is she working in Trauma?" Rachel asks, not quite understanding why any of it is bothering her as much as it is. It shouldn't matter. Why does it even matter? She really doesn't want it to matter.
LeRoy sighs heavily, setting his pen on his desk. "Rachel," he says, and he sounds too much like her father to be her boss in this moment. "You told me you were done." His jaw clenches, but it's not in anger. She knows him well enough to know it's in disappointment, and she can only hope it isn't directed at her. "After the divorce, and then after the scrutiny over starting that thing with Finn; you said you wanted out of this hospital and were refusing to negotiate your new contract. What was I supposed to do? I have a hospital to run." And, now, he's definitely her boss.
"So, you hired her, and then what?" she questions. "I didn't end up leaving."
"No, you didn't," LeRoy agrees. "She was confused at first, when the job description changed, but she embraced it, either way, because she's definitely more than qualified for it. I think she's done wonders for our Emergency Room."
"She's done wonders for our mortality rate, too," Rachel mutters under her breath, and they both know she's just bitter.
Continues to be.
Angry and heartbroken and determined to hold onto a grudge that's misplaced and unnecessary.
LeRoy lets out a tired breath, removing his reading glasses and rubbing his face. "I don't understand why you're bringing this up," he says.
Truthfully, she doesn't either, but her mouth still opens and says, "Finn would still be alive." It's really the only thing she can hold onto at this point. After everything she's already put everyone through, it is the only thing that makes sense. "If she wasn't in charge of our ER, he would still be alive. If she wasn't the one to make all the big calls, he would still be here."
Rachel knows this.
She knows it without a shadow of a doubt, because there was a chance. There was a window of opportunity, after the accident, to save him. They just had to make the right choices, and Quinn chose wrong, and now Finn is dead, and Rachel can't ever forgive her for that.
Leg, heart or head.
It's really all it boils down to.
Leg, heart or head.
Quinn chose head, and Finn's heart gave out.
Rachel still prickles with anger at the unfairness of it all. She and Finn weren't even together anymore. Their breakup coincided with Quinn's arrival, and Rachel knows Quinn and Finn clashed on a number of things... which may or may not have had something to do with Rachel.
It was there. Quinn enjoyed riling him up too much, because Rachel was a sore spot for him, and it created a tension Quinn found too amusing. Really, at times, Rachel thought Quinn was flirting with her only to get under Finn's skin, but she learned rather quickly that wasn't the case. Maybe it started that way, but Quinn kept up her pursuit long after Finn left work at the hospital.
It doesn't matter now. It just doesn't matter, and she shouldn't have to tell herself that as much as she does. Seriously. Why can't she just move on? It isn't even as if Quinn isn't respecting her wishes.
Because she is. She's left her alone, steering as far away from her, wearing her heartbreak as if it doesn't exist. Rachel doesn't let herself think too hard about how she may have hurt Quinn in her anger and grief, because that would mean she's been wrong about Quinn all along, and she's not ready to face that possibility.
That truth.
Because Quinn can't be the person Beth describes and still be the stone-cold killer Rachel has painted her in her head. She's not. Rachel knows she's not, but she can't help it. She needs somebody to blame, and Quinn is her easiest target.
She's too much of a coward to blame herself.
Rachel wouldn't call herself a menace, but even she can acknowledge she's been increasingly snappy as the week progresses. She's not entirely sure why, and only a handful of people are brave enough to call her out on it.
Her father, of course.
Her ex-husband, which is a horrid but accepted byproduct of the seven months they spent married.
And Santana Lopez, cardio god among men.
If Rachel had to choose whom she'd want to confront her, she would probably pick Jesse. He's at least a person she can almost understand. LeRoy is foreign to her, now that she's an adult, and Santana is -
Well.
Rachel would probably give up a kidney if the woman wouldn't ever speak to her again. She really, really would. She's even on the list of donors, ready and willing, if ever someone needed it.
But, alas, Santana Lopez is standing right in front of her and she's wearing her patented scowl. The expression terrifies interns and a lot of the younger residents, but Rachel isn't afraid of her. It's probably the one thing Santana both hates and respects about her.
"You know," she woman says; "I'm usually the one making interns cry; not you."
Rachel keeps her eyes focused on the chart in her hands.
"So, tell me, what's crawled into your kale smoothie?"
Rachel shakes her head, because she's never going to talk to Santana Lopez about this. Goodness. She'd schedule herself for an MRI the second she actively considered doing that. "Did you have a medical question, Dr Lopez?" Rachel forces herself to ask.
Santana regards her closely. "We've never talked about it, have we?"
"There's nothing to talk about."
"I doubt that," she says. "Because, unlike you, I was actually in that OR when Finn died."
Rachel flinches.
"I mean, do you even know what happened, or did you just create your narrative where Quinn is the obvious villain, just because you didn't get the outcome you wanted?"
Rachel doesn't respond to that, because it hits a little too close to the truth.
Santana must sense the true answer, anyway. She scoffs. "I don't even know what she sees in you," she says with a shake of her head. "You're both so fucking miserable, stubborn and stupid with your damn pride." She clicks her tongue. "Would save us all the trouble if she'd just tell you what really happened."
Rachel blinks. "What?"
"But, no, she's so fucking noble," Santana grumbles, mostly to herself. "She'd rather you hate her than - " she stops suddenly, and then shakes her head. "God, woman, just get your shit together," she says. "I'm the only one allowed to terrorise the interns." And then she walks away, leaving Rachel even more confused.
What just happened?
What did Santana mean?
It's maybe a good thing her phone goes off, because thinking about it is giving her a headache. Better to put her to work, and the mass trauma incoming is enough to keep her occupied for the next however many hours it takes to clear the ER.
Rachel works mainly with Blaine, but she's always aware of where Quinn is, her voice louder than the rest as she synchronises her Emergency Room. All the trauma rooms are occupied by the highest level traumas, and the rest of the beds are occupied as well.
It's really a madhouse, but it all seems to work, somehow.
Quinn is a wonderful orchestrator.
Rachel ends up working on a thirty year old man in Trauma Room 3, and her heart stills at the sight of him. Her mind thinks, he looks so much like Finn, and she just knows there is no way she is going to let this man die.
It is touch and go for far too long, and they spend long minutes trying to get him stable enough to move to an Operating Room. He's a fighter, and Rachel won't give up, even if Blaine looks more and more dejected whenever the man flatlines.
After the fourth time, his heart does not restart. As much as she tries - and she tries - it does not start beating again, and she can't - it can't -
She keeps trying. Trying and trying, and she realises she's crying only when strong arms wrap around her and drag her away from where she's probably broken the man's ribs in her desire to bring him back to life.
The arms carry her away, right out of the room as Blaine calls time of death, and Rachel feels the fight bleed right out of her. Replaced by grief she's never been able to get through. She chokes on a sob, her hands coming up to cover her face, only to stop at the sight of the blood on her hands.
There is blood on her hands.
Finn's blood.
That day, he called early in the morning, but she dodged his call in favour of Quinn going down on her. They'd spent the night together, wrapped around each other in ways Rachel didn't think she'd ever be able to with Quinn Fabray.
Then Finn called again, leaving a voicemail asking her to call him back, or he was going to make his way to the hospital to talk to her.
She didn't call him back.
He made his way to the hospital, and got hit by a bus on the way.
Now he's dead. He's dead, and it's -
Rachel looks down at the arms holding onto her, recognises the infinity charm Quinn wears on her right wrist, and she screams.
Screams.
Quinn immediately lets go, dropping her right in the middle of the Emergency Room, and Rachel spins around so quickly that her neck clicks. Quinn's hand automatically reaches out, and Rachel reacts.
"Don't touch me!" she yells, her body on high alert. It feels like that day all over again, Rachel bloody and emotional, and Quinn looking at her with defeat and concern and morbid understanding.
Rachel hates it.
Positively despises it.
Her hands reach out without her consent and she shoves Quinn back. Hard. Quinn doesn't expect it, and stumbles backwards, tripping over a chair behind her.
Rachel turns away before she hits the ground, and then bolts from the Emergency Room as if Finn's ghost is chasing her.
It is hours later when Rachel feels stable enough to leave the on-call room she's been hiding in. She's cried out, mortified beyond anything, and just completely strung out.
She hasn't touched her phone. She doesn't want to know what kind of aftermath she left behind. A part of her doesn't even care.
Okay.
That's not true.
She just - she definitely cares. A lot. So much. It's why she's such a mess. She should have taken the time off. She should have taken her therapy seriously, and she definitely should have listened when Quinn tried to explain.
Rachel spends a few minutes fixing herself up for her escape, hoping she can leave the hospital without anyone noticing. There's nobody in the corridor when she opens the door, and she manages to work her way to the Attending Lounge without anyone actually talking to her.
The Lounge, unfortunately, isn't empty, but she stops herself just before she walks in, hearing voices. She knows nothing good can be said this late at night.
"It can't go on like this." That's Santana. "If you won't tell her, then I will."
Rachel holds her breath, expecting to hear Quinn's voice, but getting her father's instead. "You can't."
"She's going to leave, you know?" Santana says. "I know she was concussed when she said she was resigning, but she'll do it, and I don't blame her. Rachel could have killed her."
"That's a bit extreme."
"You didn't see it, LeRoy," Santana says. "You didn't see that anger, and it's worse because she doesn't even deserve it." She clicks her tongue. "Quinn is going to leave, and I don't even know how many doctors will follow after her."
"She can't leave," LeRoy says. "She's under contract."
"Your daughter also assaulted her because she thinks Quinn is responsible for something you did," Santana accuses. "Quinn might be too polite not to use that against you, but I'm not. I am sick and tired of watching Little Berry get away with whatever the fuck she wants because you can't handle the truth that her precious Finn is actually dead because of a call you made."
Rachel covers her mouth with her hand before she can make a sound.
"Santana," LeRoy says, voice a little higher. "Please keep your voice down."
"Why should I?" Santana throws back. "Do you know I had to stitch the back of my best friend's head today? Because your kid is completely unhinged, and you're letting her keep believing that the woman she was falling in love with is responsible for the death of her ex-boyfriend just because you can't admit to asking Quinn for something impossible."
"Finn was as good as dead, no matter what choice I made."
"And yet, you allowed Quinn to be the one to deliver the news when she wasn't even in the fucking OR when he coded."
Rachel takes a step back, and then another and another. She turns and walks away, her feet carrying her as far away as possible. Her heart is beating too fast, her breathing unsteady.
Wait.
Just, hold on.
Rachel must look a sight when she stops in front of the nearest nurses' station and demands a tablet. Poor Janice fumbles for one and passes it over. Rachel mumbles a thank you and heads off to another on-call room, her fingers already inputting her father's memorised credentials and searching through the surgical archive for Finn Hudson. She's never had access to it through her own, which she appreciated, but now she wonders if it was all by design.
She freezes when she finds it, the world stopping with her. She's never actually tried to read the report on the surgery. She's never wanted to know exactly how he died, except for that she knows his heart just couldn't handle the trauma.
Which were the words Quinn said to her.
She reads from the beginning, searching for Quinn's name. Needing to see Quinn's name. Needing to know she's been justified in her hatred all these months.
It appears at the end.
At the patient's third flatline, the chances of revival were deemed improbable. S. Lopez ceased compressions after a fifteen minute period of no response. Q. Fabray entered the OR at 16h18 and immediately resumed compressions, urging them not to stop. There were no indications of the chance of resuscitation, but she persisted, demanding they keep trying. She kept up compressions for 34 minutes. At 16h54, L. Berry called TOD and requested Q. Fabray make the notification to the family. After a moment, she left the OR and -
Rachel stops reading.
She stops breathing.
Everything just stops.
Quinn wasn't even in the OR. She wasn't even there. She arrived later. After. She tried to -
Rachel steps to the side, leans her back against a wall and slides to the ground. It feels - she can't - why would -
It's too much all of a sudden, and her heart can't handle this. No part of her can handle this. Why would - why is -
She squeezes her eyes shut, rocking herself as the world speeds up all over again. Quinn - Quinn tried to save him. Quinn is the one who kept fighting. Quinn came out to tell her he was gone. She came out knowing Rachel would react in a certain way.
Rachel remembers Quinn's face, her expression concerned and understanding and heartbroken. She remembers seeing her eyes, how they told Rachel just how sorry she was. She remembers Quinn's hands, already reaching out to offer all of herself, as if she expected Rachel to seek comfort from her instead of pushing her away.
Accusing her of doing it on purpose, because she wanted Rachel for herself.
She remembers Quinn's face then, the way it crumpled in some form of morbid realisation at what Rachel must have thought about her.
After everything.
After she finally gave in.
After they had sex that turned into making love.
After Quinn whispered in the dark of night, you make me the happiest I've ever been.
And after Rachel murmured back, I want this moment never to end.
Quinn had taken everything Rachel screamed at her in silence, and Rachel - none of it made her feel better.
She's never felt better.
Not since that last morning, with Quinn's hands on her body, mouth against her ear as they moved together. She naïvely thought they were making some kind of music, moving to the perfect rhythm. That it was their moment in time, and they could somehow figure out the rest as it came.
Santana called Quinn the woman she was falling in love with, and that keeps replaying in her head. Rachel can't realistically say it wasn't happening, because she was.
She did.
Which is probably why it hurt even more. It's worse now. It was always going to be worse. Not only did she lose Finn that day, but also Quinn.
And now, her father.
It's sobering and heartbreaking in a way she never expected.
So she sits and breathes and spends long minutes getting a handle on her thoughts and feelings.
Tomorrow.
She'll talk to them all tomorrow.