Author's Notes: As always, thanks to Mike Ownby for taking time out of his day to look over this story and remind me of my terrible life choices in writing angst.

Speaking of angst, I think those of you still following this story will be glad to hear that there are a couple of chapters left before the end. Thanks in advance to everyone reading/reviewing/cry-yelling.

Now, Rachel Berry had had her fair share of surprises. They ranged from the pleasant (Quinn demonstrating her determination to keep in touch with her after high school by buying them Metro passes), to the happily unexpected (Santana and Brittany's trying for a baby), and finally to the truly shocking (meeting the Abomination).

She wasn't sure where this particular incident fell on her spectrum. For now, all Rachel could do was stand in her doorway, dazed, with the weight of a bouquet of gardenias in her arms.

These were unmistakably her opening night flowers; Quinn had always made sure she had them because they were her good luck charm. But Rachel had received her flowers from Santana this time. Where had this bouquet come from? Either someone was playing a cruel joke on her, or…

Well, Rachel had regular chats with an AI unit programmed with her dead wife's memories and personality. She could deal with a few more surprises.

With trembling hands, she removed the envelope from the flowers. Rachel left it on the kitchen table while she put the gardenias in water. There was a green ribbon binding the stems together – as expected. She left it untouched.

While her hands worked, her mind went over the possible explanations for this delivery. Whoever sent the flowers must have known her well enough to know about the ritual. Rachel had done a number of shows and received a bouquet for each one, so her quirk was well-known in Broadway circles. Only a handful of people knew about the significance of the gardenias and green ribbon, though. She couldn't imagine any one of them being cruel enough to do this.

Once the new bouquet had taken pride of place in her living room, Rachel returned to the envelope and turned it over to open it. Inside was a piece of paper and a smaller note-sized slip which had READ ME FIRST written on it in Quinn's block print. Smiling faintly, she pulled out the note first.

Underneath the block letters it said: Rachel, stop overthinking whoever sent this and take a deep breath.

A shaky laugh escaped Rachel. There was only one person who could have sent this bouquet.

Considerably calmer now, she laid the note carefully back on the table and opened the letter.

Dear Rach,

If you're reading this, congratulations on your new show. I want you to know I'm so proud of you for moving on with your life. I'm sorry I can't be there for the rest of it like I so desperately wanted to be.

I arranged for these to be delivered to our house after the opening night of the first show you're doing after I'm gone (I would've arranged for these to get to you on opening night itself, but I didn't want to distract you from what I'm sure would have been a Tony-winning performance). I hope it didn't arrive at a weird time.

There's something else I need to confess. Brittany approached me with an idea for an invention that sounded like it might belong in a science-fiction novel; an electronic repository of my memories and personality that you can interact with. I don't know if she's told you about Pandora's Box (my name for the bot. Britt calls it Mini-Q, which I refuse to acknowledge as its name), but she and I have been working on it for awhile now. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I didn't know if you'd approve.

Rachel, as I'm writing this, you're hard at work. Reviewing the diet plans you drew up for me, seeking out radical cancer trials, researching specialists. You haven't sung in weeks, you haven't smiled in almost as long. I hate the determination I see in your eyes, because this is the first battle in your life that you're going to lose, and I'm afraid you know it too.

You always say I'm the pragmatic one. So here I am being pragmatic; making plans for after I'm gone, which means you and Elly. It kills me that I'm not gonna be around for her, just like I wasn't a part of Beth's life.

But as hard as it is to leave Elly, there's you.

I'm sorry that this will be the last bouquet of gardenias that I can give you, Rach. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you earlier that a machine would be a crude replacement for me. Most of all, I'm sorry I can never thank you and Elly enough for being the lights of my life.

All my love,

Quinn

Rachel sighed. "You always find some way to surprise me, don't you?" A stray tear escaped her eye; she dabbed it away. "Just when I thought you were gone. God, you're infuriating."

On a crisp winter morning, Rachel packed herself and her daughter into a train departing New York. She had been looking forward to this trip for a long time; ever since she had received Quinn's letter three months earlier.

There was only time for a quick visit before they were due in Lima for the Christmas holidays. It was enough. Rachel fingered her scarf absently, her other arm wrapped around Elly's middle to keep the toddler out of trouble.

The train pulled into New Haven's main station on time. The rental car she had booked was waiting in the parking bay, and Rachel signed for it. She buckled Elly into the toddler seat and set herself for the short drive to their destination.

"Mama?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Drive?"

"We're gonna visit Mommy, Elly," replied Rachel. She smiled when she saw Elly perk up at the word Mommy.

"Mommy!"

"Yes, Mommy."

Grove Street Cemetery was quiet at this time of year. Her footsteps crunched on gravel; Elly whined a little when the chill wind picked up. Rachel picked up her daughter and tugged the bobble cap lower on her head. "I did tell you to let Mama carry you."

"Mmprghh," said Elly, burying her face in Rachel's neck. Laughing softly, Rachel set off among the stones, navigating through the rows, left and right, until she reached her destination.

"Hello, Quinn," she said, smiling faintly. Rachel let Elly down and pointed at the headstone. "Say hello to Mommy," she prompted.

"Mama," replied Elly, her little fists bunching in the material of Rachel's overcoat. She hid her face in Rachel's coat, suddenly shy.

Rachel sighed. "Close enough." She ran her fingers through the choppy locks of hair that stuck out from under the bobble hat. "Then can you wait while I talk to Mommy, sweetie?"

Elly looked up at her, all bright eyes and adorable enthusiasm. "Blargoo," she replied. Rachel produced a stuffed bear out of her bag. Elly took it with an excited squeal; smiling, Rachel turned back to the grave. She took a single pressed gardenia from inside her coat.

"Thank you for the flowers," she said. "I saved you one. Thanks for the letter; you gave me a shock; but then again, the Abomination – Pandora. That's a much nicer name than the one I gave it. Pandora is more than enough drama for a lifetime." Rachel laid the flower on the headstone. "I don't even want to think about the amount of therapy I might need now."

She had been surprised at first by Quinn's request to be buried in New Haven, so far from home. But the more times she visited, the more Rachel grew to appreciate the quiet dignity of the place and how it suited Quinn. The name of the town itself was apropos; a haven for Quinn, representing her escape from Lima and its small-town life. A place for new beginnings.

She squatted down in front of the grave, propping her chin on her knees. "You spoil me," said Rachel. "Gardenias after you were gone? Only you, Quinn Fabray."

"Even that note was such a classic thing to do," she continued. "Although I promise you I wasn't jumping to any wild conclusions. I was happy; for a brief moment, I forgot you aren't here anymore."

"I'm surprised you brought up Pandora in the letter. You knew I wasn't going to take it easily, Quinn Fabray, and yet you – ugh. I wished I had you back so I could strangle you, you infuriating woman." Rachel laughed. "Though that seems rather par for the course with our relationship."

"I honestly don't know if I should be angry with you," she continued. "That thing has – it's stirred up so many emotions I haven't felt in months. Your fault, again. Letters and machines and flowers – they're not the same. You know I'd give everything to have you back." Rachel sighed. "But that's not happening. It's been nearly a year, and – I'm getting used to a life without you, Quinn. I am moving on."

She reached for her daughter, scooping Elly into her arms as she stood. "Elly will be fine without you. And so will I. But we'll miss you every single day."

Rachel had just pulled up the rental car outside the Berry residence when Hiram came out. "Rachel! You're here! Leroy! Rachel's here with our grandbaby!" He wrapped Rachel into a hug the instant she stepped out of the car.

"I heard you the first time," grumbled Leroy, following his husband out of the house. "You forgot your scarf; remember what the doctor said last time." He draped it around Hiram's neck. "I, for one, am not keen on spending Thanksgiving in the hospital again because somebody thought he didn't need a sweater in November."

Rachel chuckled. "Quinn had to pack up our Thanksgiving dinner and bring it to Daddy's ward."

The mention of Quinn's name had a sobering effect on the Berry men. "I remember," said Hiram, his voice rough. "She did it without telling any of us. I never really thanked her for that." He hugged Rachel a little tighter.

She was feeling a little misty-eyed herself, so Leroy's sudden hand on her back was a steadying, much missed presence. Rachel leaned into his chest. "We're glad you're home, Rachel," said Leroy quietly. He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Let me get your bags for you."

Rachel nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat. She had braced herself for the holidays as best as she was able, but it was proving hard.

The Berrys both let go of Rachel and turned to their tasks; Hiram unbuckling Elly from her car seat, Leroy opening the trunk to fetch their luggage. "How was the flight, dear?"

"It was fine. Elly slept the whole way."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Lord knows how you managed to have a perfect baby. You were a perfect demon when traveling; we could never take you anywhere."

Rachel let out a watery laugh. "So I've heard. She doesn't take after me, that's for sure." Clearing her throat, Rachel decided to change the subject. "You both look great. How was Cadiz?"

"It was perfect," said Hiram. "Retirement suits your old men well."

"Speak for yourself," said Leroy. "There was nothing to do. Nothing. It's even worse now, because I can't even go out in this infernal cold."

"Not everyone is a workaholic like you, Lee."

Rachel watched them bicker with a smile on her face. "Dads, I hate to do this to you when we just got here, but I promised Maribel I'd pay her a visit the minute I got into Lima."

"Oh, alright dear." Hiram waved a free hand at her. "Elly'll be fine with us. You'll be home for dinner, won't you?"

She laughed. "Seriously, you two only wanted me here to deliver your grandbaby?"

"Sweetheart, we love you but we've had you for more than thirty years. We've waited months to spend some quality time with our granddaughter." Hiram tickled her tummy, making the toddler laugh and squirm. "Though now your father's finally retired from the force, we should travel up to New York more often."

"We'll have plenty of time to talk about this later, Hiram," said Leroy. "Rachel only just came home."

"I know. But sometimes, it's not really enough."

"Finally!" said Santana. She opened the door wider. "Have a good trip up north?"

"It was lovely," replied Rachel, knowing what her friend meant; Santana would never refer to New Haven by name, let alone talk about Rachel's purpose for her regular visits. "New Haven is picturesque at this time of year."

"Yeah, great. Hang on a sec." Santana turned her head. "Mama! Rachel's here!" she yelled in the direction of the kitchen.

"Yelling as though we were on a farm," muttered Maribel Lopez as she came out, scowling at her daughter, "as though I never taught you any manners." It was quickly replaced by a wide smile directed at Rachel. "Hello, Rachel dear."

"Maribel, it's good to see you." Rachel kissed her cheek. "You look wonderful."

"You say that every year. If I hadn't known you since you were a tiny thing, I would've believed you."

Finn appeared from behind Maribel and gave her a quick smile.

"Hey, Rach."

"Hello, Finn. I didn't know you were here too," said Rachel, surprised.

Santana shrugged. "He dropped off Kurt's Christmas cookies and Mama offered him hot cocoa."

"Finn's a good boy," said Maribel. "Even when he was in college, I'd always see him at the store helping his mother buy groceries."

"You're just mad that you didn't see much of me in high school," replied Santana. "We help out now, anyway. Like how Britt's getting you the cranberry sauce you forgot to buy."

Maribel made a dismissive flicking motion with her fingers at Santana. "Rachel, querida, will you be staying for dinner?"

"I'm afraid not – I have plans with my dads."

"Then we'll see you here for Christmas Eve dinner," decided Santana's mother. "Please pass on the invitation to Hiram and Leroy, Rachel."

"I will."

Pleased, Maribel returned to the kitchen.

Rachel turned to Santana. "Is Judy here yet?"

Santana stiffened. "No."

"I called her earlier. She said she was coming."

"Then she lied," said Santana curtly.

"Have you spoken to her recently?"

Santana laughed, a hard cold sound. "No. Not since… I don't know, maybe when we were at the funeral and she asked me if I was one of Quinnie's friends."

"Santana," said Rachel reproachfully.

"She's not my mother-in-law. She's yours."

"She's Quinn's mother."

"She stopped being Q's mother when Q got knocked up."

Rachel sighed. "Santana, it's our first Christmas without Quinn – all of us. No one should have to go through that alone."

Santana snorted. "Berry, we both know which of us is the forgiving one." And she turned on her heel and disappeared.

Finn frowned. "You okay?"

"Yes. I think." Rachel sighed. "Why does everything have to be so complicated?"

He chuckled. "I've been thinking that since high school and I still haven't got an answer yet." Finn tugged at his left cuff to check his watch. "I've gotta go. Burt wants me back at the shop." His expression brightened. "Do you wanna come with? I know Mom would be glad to see you. You could hang out in the garage. It'll be like old times."

Rachel found it hard to resist his pleading expression and the wheedling tone of his voice; it reminded her of when they were teenagers, and life was a lot simpler. Besides, she reasoned that she could do with a less complicated companion right now. "Sure," said Rachel. "Let me get my coat."