Firstly, I really appreciate all of the support this has gotten! I especially want to thank the people that left a review. There's something really heartwarming about reading your opinions/analysis, and it really makes me want to finish this. Thank you.

Dr. Life: I have actually worked out what will happen with the pregnancy…for this entire fic and perhaps the future. I guess this is a small spoiler, but: this will end on a note such that there will have to be an epilogue or sequel. This is because I'm trying to do justice to the personalities I believe both currently have.

The chapter is short this time, but (I think) a little fluffy. Hopefully that makes up for it?

Quinn couldn't seem to hear anything…properly, anyways. White noise bombarded her senses, blurring out her environment and muffling her hearing. She was vaguely aware of Kurt's cell phone blaring in the background.

She was also aware that Rachel was still speaking, or rather, saying something – something probably about Kurt. It was, after all, his antics that had redirected her friend's attention. She had noticed him earlier (honestly, the hair peeping out of the potted plant was really hard to not notice), but he was trying so ridiculously hard to stay inconspicuous, that she couldn't bring herself to call him out.

Unfortunately, she had made the assumption that nothing significant would be said; well, that and the fact that she had been too preoccupied with being hurt by Rachel to afford him anything more than a cursory note of his existence – as cold as that may sound.

Her mind flitted through random streams of thought, finally landing on…

I'm…pregnant.

When that phrase first fell upon her ears, her thoughts had become distracted; disjointed. Remembering those two words brought everything crashing back to reality. Her pulse quickened, warming the rest of her skin; her eyes blinked rapidly, as if they were trying to clear her vision – or keep her from crying.

Images washed Quinn's vision.

Memories – Quinn broken and crying in her car. Of her dreams slowly wasting away so that even the most pathetic lay broken at her feet. Of being homeless. Of being desperate. Of being desolate; so utterly and completely alone.

Then, although she knew it was ridiculous and not the same circumstances in the slightest, Rachel replaced the Quinn in her memories.

If she had not had such fine control over her emotions, Quinn might have broken down right there. Unfortunately, Rachel had already torn down a substantial amount of her walls, and her control was not as tight as it would have been if this concerned anyone else.

She was terrified it might slip.

When Single Ladies rang out, Rachel had welcomed the diversion, allowing her attention to be wrenched away from Quinn.

If she had been honest with herself (her mind traitorously reminding her that she had been doing less and less of this lately), she didn't want to see Quinn's reaction. She didn't want to see the disappointment marring the other's otherwise beautiful and perfect features.

So she turned towards the music and let her mouth run on autopilot. She didn't really know what she said. It was probably something along the lines of – I'm going to kill Kurt – but she couldn't be too sure.

After a few minutes, even her mouth ran out of ammunition; she couldn't keep sputtering with empty bullets. She forced her head to turn those ninety degrees and finally face a certain, impassive, silent blonde.

After what seemed like an eternity since Rachel had spoken those two words, Quinn voiced a question. "Are you sure?"

Rachel blinked. Those were not the words that she had been expecting.

"Yes," she replied, simply. Rachel peered intently slightly, eyes narrowing, as she tried to get a read on Quinn. Said girl's features were completely blank – almost suspiciously so, her mind seemed to unceremoniously chime in.

"How sure?" The questions were rapid fire. "Have you visited –"

Rachel cut her off. She took a little too much pleasure in doing so. The cool and crisp (detached, came a whisper; her mind was being a real bitch today) tone bothered her more than she cared to admit.

"Yes."

Quinn was blinking faster than normal. Even as she found herself noting it, Rachel couldn't help but internally, skeptically, snort at the way she was acting. Analyzing her blinking now, Rachel? Really? Paranoid much?

"How long?" Quinn's voice was quiet.

"Not long." Rachel paused, breaking eye contact to glance idly back towards the stairs. "Three weeks."

A sharp intake of breath redirected Rachel's attention. "And you didn't tell –"

Rachel cut her off again. Now Rachel was being a real bitch.

"The first people I told were Santana and Kurt, this morning. Although…" she trailed off as a memory surfaced. "Santana's under the impression I'm less than two weeks along." The blinking seemed to increase, incrementally. She really needed to stop it. Quinn's blinking was not fluctuating. But she allowed herself, just for a second, to believe that it was. And, if it was, was she reacting to who she told?

"You didn't tell anyone until this morning?"

For the first time since the big reveal, emotion actually seeped into the words slipped from Quinn's mouth.

Rachel, completely taken aback, replied uncertainly.

"…yes?"

And before Rachel could completely understand what was happening, Quinn had taken those two steps separating them and pulled her into a tight hug.

As she stood there, flabbergasted and unsure of what had just transpired, she missed Quinn's crumpling face; the silent tears.

She couldn't actually remember, in working memory, any other time when Quinn had been the first one to hug her. Now, Quinn had done it twice in one day. The teen rested her left temple across the Yale undergrad's shoulder, Quinn's soft blonde hair falling against her cheek.

Strawberries. She had to stop herself from breathing too deeply, no matter how amazing the sweet fruit smelled, because that…

Her mind switched quickly.

She really must ask Quinn where she bought her shampoo, and its animal friendly (or not) nature, she thought, distractedly. The scent's simultaneously intoxicating and soothing.

Rachel lifted her head, after a few seconds, intent on asking the question before it escaped her. Then, thinking better of it, she stopped. It took her a few seconds to realize what her mouth had before that of her brain.

She didn't want to break this moment.

She closed her eyes, and allowed herself a small smile. There was plenty of time to worry – about frivolous things like Quinn's shampoo and about more pressing matters like the future.

But for right now, none of that had to matter.

And, for the first time in almost three weeks, Rachel felt herself relaxing in the surrounding warmth. She buried herself deeply into the offered comfort and safety, enveloped by the arms of the one person who used to be anything but.