Unconfirmed spoiler speculation below. Warning: character injury (not severe).

A/N: Just wrote this really quickly. It's my first Faberry fic that I've actually written all the way through. I listened to Death Cab for Cutie's Your Bruise while writing, check it out to set the mood hehe. Not really digging the ending, but feel free to drop me a review with what you think of it.

You were the last to arrive.

As you enter the stale, sterile room Tina and Mike exit, the girl crying quietly and Mike's arm weaved around her. You give him a small smile and he returns it.

The bed makes her look small, swathed in double layers of rough cotton blankets and sheets. She looks pale, the stitches on her brow starkly black against her skin. The blood around them is dry. You feel sick.

"Quinn?"

Her eyes widen a little and she smiles, it tapers off to a wince as she attempts to shift in the bed.

"Hey Rach." Husky.

"No don't get up, I'll come to you." You cross the room and sit in the chair (you wonder how many have sat here, anxious, breathing the disinfectant in the air), and take her hand (cold, soft). She looks at you fondly, before you can stop yourself your eyes fill with tears, joyful and sorrowful simultaneously.

Her thumb rasps over the back of your hand.

"So, um…how did it happen?" Your voice feels far away.

"I was coming back from Findlay, on the 309. It was raining, Dave was, he was…" She sighs, shaky. You squeeze her hand. "His tyre blew from a nail on the road, he was all over the place. He had his fog lights on and I couldn't see. I went into the ditch, he hit a pole. I just have this cut and some bumps and bruises. He wasn't so lucky."

You already know the last part, Mercedes had to tell you twice because after "Quinn's been in an accident," all you could here was the blood rushing through your ears. Dave was in surgery, his nose broken and arm shattered enough to need pins.

"So you're okay? How long are they gonna keep you here?" You sound frantic, she chuckles a little. You blush.

"I'm just a little shaken up, they want to keep me overnight for observation."

There's silence then, and for a while you feel like crying but you don't know why. You like how her hand feels in yours. You wonder where Finn is.

"Rachel…" She clears her throat. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, I -" She cuts you off with "Promise not to freak out?"

You nod.

"It's just that, when that light shined in my eyes, when I couldn't control where I was going, I thought I was going to die, I really did."

She quickly brushes a tear from her cheek, as if frustrated.

"And it's going to sound so cliche but in that moment I saw everything I regret in life. I regret last year, I regret being such a horrible person," You open your mouth to deny it. She stops you, and sits up stiffly, bare feet not touching the ground (electric blue toenails). You place a hand on her arm to help her.

"No, I really was. I regret getting knocked up. I regret putting up with my father's bullshit for so long. But the thing that I regretted the most in that moment was not telling you the truth. I feel like this happened for a purpose, it's like the universe is telling me to be honest with you."

You look up at her, and she returns your gaze earnestly.

There's a beat, then:

"I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you, Rach, and I can't believe that I'm actually telling you because I thought I never would. But I love you. I've tried to deny it and 'pray it away'" (she uses air quotes) "but something in me wouldn't let you go. It's killing me to see you with him." The last word drips with hostility.

Your pulse quickens, heavy in your chest. Her words hush your tempestuous thoughts. The world slows.

"Please say something, I don't want this to ruin -"

You move forward and kiss her, firmly, insistently. She gasps against you and her mouth softens, moulding against your own. Your hand reaches the back of her neck and you weave your fingers through her hair. She pulls you closer and you arch against her. You sigh.

You don't know how long you stayed there, kissing desperately, hearts fluttering and desire pumping through your veins. Sharing breath. Actually seeing her for the first time. You never felt so happy, and you feel her tears smudge against your skin. It's bliss. It's poetry. It's something that people make songs and stories and paintings about. It's something you never want to stop doing.

But it does, eventually, reluctantly. She draws her lips away and you rest your forehead on her's. She laughs, happily, and you do too. You study her eyes, flecked with gold. You commit her skin to memory. She touches your cheek. You don't think of how hard it will be for you both. You don't think of having to break up with Finn, to put up with his petulant advances that make you guilty in spite of yourself once again. You don't think of anything else. Because nothing else matters.