"I wish I had fallen in love with somebody a little more handsome, of course. But I didn't. I fell in love with you" –Norwegian Wood.

Santana found Rachel slumped over the waiting room couch. The Latina had never seen a more pitiful sight. She carefully placed her coffee on top of the table positioned beside the sofa, and sat next to broken girl. "Any news?"

Rachel shook her head without shifting posture, "She's still unconscious but responsive".

"That's good, right?" The Cheerio inquired in a slightly hopeful tone, choosing to filter out the "unconscious" and focused instead on the "responsive" part.

Rachel sat up and air quoted, "cautiously optimistic" before resting her forehead on her palm. "It's been five days. And if I hear cautiously optimistic coming out of her doctors' mouths one more time..."

"You'll do what, exactly?" Santana chuckled.

The smaller girl shrugged. "I just want her to get better, Santana. She shouldn't be in there. She almost..." Rachel paused then swallowed roughly. "She almost died".

Santana could only nod and sigh in response. She didn't want to remember the moment but her mind kept reverting back to that phone call from Judy literally seconds before the wedding march. A cold shiver ran down her spine and felt her heart constricting again. The reaction had become too familiar over the past few days. She deflected by a little escapism; she talked to Quinn in her head. Santana's lips twitched slightly as fantasy Santana began talking to a bedridden but very much alert fantasy Quinn.

Sitting at the edge of Quinn's hospital bed, Santana scowled and crossed her arms. "When I told you to try and stop the damn wedding, I didn't have this in mind, you bitch."

"But it did stop the wedding". Quinn threw a Cheshire cat grin her way. "And that's all that matters to me right now"

"Santana!"

Santana's gaze snapped over to Rachel's direction. "Huh?"

Rachel looked horrified and offended. "You're smirking. How can you smirk at a time like this?"

The Latina had the decency to look guilty. She could have replied with an insult, with special coating of sarcasm. But a quick survey of Rachel's physical state clamped down her natural instinct to attack. "I was just thinking of happier times," she mumbled then looked away.

Rachel's gaze softened. "I've been doing a lot of that, too," she admitted. "But I suppose we don't have enough fun memories with Quinn to elicit that kind of smirk," the diva lamented, blinking rapidly to fight back her tears. "We were just starting to create really good ones."

"Listen. Quinn will make it through, okay? Trust me."

Rachel looked at Quinn's best friend and rival with wide eyes. "How do you know that?"

"She'll live for you," Santana said with conviction and nonchalance, as if she was stating something as factual as gravity.

Rachel looked down and a barely audible "oh" escaped her lips.

For Rachel, there is only one thing worse than Quinn fight for her life, and that is, for her friend to be in this state because she had gone out of her way to comply with the diva's request. And the only thing that made this absolutely terrible is finding out why Quinn relented despite her strong protest over the wedding.

Quinn was in love with her.

At least that's how she understood it.

Rachel sensed the panic building inside the Latina when they heard the triage nurse speak of "internal bleeding caused by blunt trauma" to the attending surgeon. Santana tried to reach for Quinn while being transferred from the ER to the OR, only to be blocked by another nurse.

Santana skillfully evaded the nurse and inserted herself between two interns, touching Quinn's hand. "Quinn. Honey, we're here, okay? Rachel's here. The wedding didn't—". The taller brunette found herself being pulled away as they got nearer the OR. In a last ditch effort, Santana screamed, "No wedding, Quinn! She's here! Rachel's here!" over and over until the doors closed, leaving a bewildered Rachel standing a few steps behind her distraught team mate.

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a commotion coming from Quinn's room. "Santana," Rachel breathed out as both of them quickly stood up. Judy stepped out of the room and motioned the two girls to come nearer. "Quinn just woke up," the older blonde explained in a subdued manner. "The doctors will just run some tests then we can come in soon."

They were led inside by a nurse when the attending physician was finally checking on Quinn's hand eye coordination. The doctor raised a finger in front of Quinn and asked her to touch his finger, then requested Quinn to touch her own nose. One and a half hours of being conscious and Quinn was already visibly annoyed by the repetitive task.

"She's awake, alright. Cranky as always," Santana whispered. Judy nodded in agreement while Rachel's eyes remained glued to Quinn's bandaged legs. "Are...are her legs – can she..." Rachel let out a shaky breath.

Santana's eyes widened as she finally took notice of the injuries. Judy understood Rachel's concerns, shook her head and placed her hand gently on Rachel's shoulder. "Fractured knee cap on her left leg. It will take a while to heal and she needs to be under physical therapy. With her internal injuries and surface wounds, all in all, it could've been worse..." Judy sighed heavily. "She was looking forward to cheerleading again but the doctors said there is no way her body will completely heal in a few months."

Santana pursed her lips and simply nodded. There was nothing else to say regarding Quinn's supposed huge cheerleading comeback being cut short with finality. "She would also need to see a psychiatrist." Judy added, "It's apparently quite common for victims of vehicular accidents to suffer post traumatic stress disorder, so we would need to watch out for symptoms as well."

Judy was right. Considering the wreck, things could've been worse. While Rachel silently mulled over it, anger slowly built up. She wanted to scream. Scream at everyone because no one was blaming her, not even Judy. Rachel believed it was entirely her fault. Inexplicably, no one had voiced despise over her role in this. When they lost Nationals last year, Santana wanted to murder her, yet it was Finn who initiated the kiss. How is this any different? She bombarded Quinn with text messages, demanding her to rush. She made it very clear to Quinn that her presence was wanted—need—in her wedding. Of course Quinn had to reply. Quinn always responded to her in whatever form. Santana should've sliced her into pieces this time. But out of all moments Santana chose to show compassion, it had to be now.

"This is my fault. Oh god," Rachel placed her hand over her mouth. She didn't want to cry when Quinn's own mother has kept composure all throughout this painful waiting game. Quinn had been in the operating room for two hours and the doctors had not updated them. Every minute that passed by felt like an eternity.

She felt Santana staring at her and waited for the kill. Instead, she heard a barely audible "so not your fault." Rachel scoffed as she wiped away her tears. This seemed to have spurred Santana on to keep talking. "It was the truck driver's fault. I mean, it wasn't like Quinn was driving at a stupid expressway in California. She wasn't even speeding that much. She had the right of way and...and the truck driver was supposed to—"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Santana", Rachel said through gritted teeth. "We all know if Quinn wasn't replying to me, she wouldn't be here. I could've just waited or went on with the wedding without her, but no, selfish me wanted everything."

Rachel was very much aware that she emotionally blackmailed Quinn by banning anyone who was against the marriage from taking part in her wedding. She knew that tactic will work because her former nemesis was trying to make amends. Theirs was a fragile friendship, and the blonde wasn't above giving in. Rachel knew Quinn always gave in to her wishes, albeit begrudgingly. She aimed straight for the jugular and Quinn had to pay the price for it.

And so Rachel felt angry at herself for having insisted to have Quinn in her wedding. She wanted to be mad at Quinn as well but just couldn't get to it. Not when the blonde's delicate face was covered with wounds from shard glass.

The physician was checking at, what Rachel can only surmise, a huge gash on her forehead. "This might leave a visible scar, I'll get our medical aesthetics head to come down here and take a look at it," the middle-aged man said to Quinn.

Quinn chuckled in response. "Can I get him to make me look like Mila Kunis?"

Judy rolled her eyes and cleared her throat.

Quinn glanced at their direction and smiled widely. "Olivia Wilde, then?"

Judy smiled back then shook her head as she stepped closer and tucked Quinn's blanket. "Sweetheart, you're prettier than them."

"You're kind of obligated to say that", Quinn protested.

"You look like me, of course I am", Judy quipped in return, gently kissing the top of Quinn's head. She then turned her attention to the amused doctor. "While you're trying to fix everything already, is there anything you can give to cure her temper?"

"Mom, I am not temperamental," Quinn scowled.

Judy raised an eyebrow. "I rest my case."

Rachel finally understood that the infamous "Fabray eyebrow raise" was genetic. This light moment between mother and daughter offered temporary reprieve from a challenging life ahead, and Rachel took it all in, committing it to memory. Santana nudged her and jerked her head towards Quinn's direction. The diva waited for the doctors to leave, nodded and tentatively stepped forward. She tried to ignore the hodgepodge of emotions that had been brewing, which always started at the pit of her stomach and ended up with her crying. Santana plopped herself into Quinn's bed earning a much deserved glare from the blonde. Santana shrugged then Quinn chuckled and shook her head as she mumbled "ass".

Rachel felt a tinge of jealousy. She had longed for that kind of interaction with Quinn for as long as she can remember. That feeling suddenly turned into grief because she was absolutely certain that with the accident and what she now knows, she would never see and treat Quinn the same way again, let alone move on to something more comfortable.

As if it will bury away her dread, Rachel swallowed roughly and smiled as she positioned herself a step behind Judy. This finally earned Quinn's attention.

"Hey," Quinn said softly while wearing an inscrutable expression. "You're here"

"Yes," Rachel wrung her hands and stepped forward while Judy excused herself for a coffee break. "Yes, I'm here."

Quinn broke into a smile. "How long was I out?"

"Six days," Santana replied while texting Brittany.

Quinn's gaze shifted over to Santana and frowned slightly. "You've been here at the hospital, too, since then?"

Santana tilted her head and shrugged before getting up and head towards the door. "I'm hungry; I'll be back in a few." She pointed at Rachel before closing the door behind her. "She's been here since then. Dad would've killed me if I skipped school. Rachel only goes home to shower."

Rachel blushed and tucked some hair behind her ears. "My fathers were okay with it."

Quinn blinked several times. She still felt a little woozy from painkillers but alert enough to notice that Rachel implied asking permission from her fathers, not Finn. She made a quick glance at Rachel's hand could not see a wedding band. While she remained physically calm, the Holter attached to her chest gave the excitement away.

"And.. And, someone has to give the student body update every hour," Rachel added, not noticing a slight change in Quinn's ECG activity.

She chuckled incredulously. "The whole student body? Every hour?"

"I found out that Twitter is an efficient way to disseminate information," Rachel shrugged.

Quinn quirked her eyebrows and pursed her lips. "Oh? You have a Twitter account now? You've gone a long way since MySpace. I'm proud of you."

The brunette smirked, "And I'm ashamed to know you don't have one." Feeling more at ease, she pulled a chair and sat next to her friend.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well not everyone is as cool as you."

"But you should get one. You're hipster. Hipsters use social networking sites like it's your version of the Greek's Agora," Rachel teased. "I bet you've got a secret stash of Buddy Holly glasses and Chucks."

"No. But I do have a compendium of Jack Kerouac," Quinn revealed.

Rachel's eyes widened and nodded slowly as if she was finally let in a secret society "Ah, a hipster essential read. I see."

Quinn smiled and pushed herself up for a better position, grimacing in the process. Rachel immediately stood up and held on to her arm. "Thanks," Quinn mumbled. "I should mentally prepare myself for this. I'm going to be wheelchair-bound for a couple of months. But once my kneecap's a bit better, they're going to put a brace then I can start with crutches. I have a few screws inside my knee," Quinn made a winding movement with her hand. "Sort of like Frankenstein"

Rachel winced at the description and chewed her lip."What about your internal injuries?"

Quinn touched her rib cage area instinctively. "Same. Just for me to rest and wait for my body to heal naturally. The doctors sounded upbeat. I seem to be a fast healer." Quinn was unusually talkative but the absent-minded nod and blank look in Rachel did not go unnoticed. The blonde slightly shifted to her side so she can face the girl she is hopelessly in love with directly. "I'm sorry."

Rachel frowned. "What are you apologizing for?"

"For ruining your wedding." This time, Quinn didn't steal a glance but full-on stared at Rachel's hand. The more she spent talking to Rachel, the more she saw how miserable the girl has been. Quinn felt guilty for allowing herself to feel happiness earlier.

Rachel's gaze snapped over to Quinn's line of vision, took Quinn's hand and shook her head emphatically. "Quinn, you have nothing to apologize for, okay?"

"I—okay." There was no room for argument as far as Rachel's pointed look is concerned, and Quinn was still too exhausted to fight it out.

Rachel fixed Quinn's blanket, aping Judy's actions earlier including a kiss on the blonde's forehead. But unlike Judy's kiss, Rachel let hers linger leaving Quinn perplexed and internally giddy. "Why don't you get some more sleep? I'll be here when you wake up," Rachel whispered as she sat on the bed and began stroking her friend's hair.

Maybe it was the power of suggestion, or the fact that the brunette's slender fingers were massaging her scalp. Whatever it was, Quinn had no time to process. Her eyes began fluttering and eventually fell into a deep slumber.