AN: This is obviously winding down (so slowly), but the insane delay was actually due to exams.

Still off the Key of Reason

Chapter 32: Fall through Like Change in the Daylight

"Can you kneel?"

Quinn huffed and shook her head against the pillow. She tugged hopelessly at the sweatpants stuck on her cast and rolled sideways into Rachel. "My leg won't bend, Rachel."

"Maybe you could-"

"No. I can't." Quinn kicked her foot frantically until she had one of her legs freed.

Rachel rolled her eyes and glanced at the empty plastic syringe on the bedside table. She was strung out and ready, and everything had been going fine until Quinn had decided to remove her pants. Such a good idea at the time.

She flailed again, trying desperately to get the elastic over her cast, and whined into Rachel's shoulder.

"Leave it, baby." Rachel panted. "Just leave it."

Quinn exhaled sharply and rolled so that she was draped over Rachel. Her cast scratched uncomfortably against Rachel's bare leg, and Quinn pushed herself up until she was crouched like Spiderman between her wife's thighs.

Rachel would've laughed if Quinn didn't look so distressed.

"Relax, baby." She managed to say instead.

"You should be on top." Quinn muttered, finally leaning forward to touch Rachel. She was disheveled and red in the face, and Rachel fully expected her to lose her balance and tip over the edge of the bed.

Rachel hummed with pleasure. "I need…to stay… in this position. Remember?"

Quinn didn't reply. She tilted awkwardly forward to nip at Rachel's neck, nose trailing along her jaw. Rachel kept one hand tangled in blonde hair and the other fisted in her pillow case. She could see Quinn's leg quivering, ready to give out, and she moved her hips faster, hoping to finish before her wife was incapacitated.

"Stop rocking the bed." Quinn mumbled into her neck.

"It's-how-it's sex, Quinn."

Quinn dropped her free hand to hold Rachel's hips still, brow furrowed in annoyance.

"So? You're about to knock me over. Hold still."

Rachel bit her tongue and tried to comply. She wouldn't be surprised if she ended up with a rash where Quinn's cast rubbed repeatedly against her thigh.

"Almost…there." Rachel breathed, noticing that Quinn was starting to tilt to the side.

The weight of her cast was dragging her down, sliding her off-center. The world's slowest fall.

"Go…that way." Quinn instructed vaguely, providing no direction whatsoever. She pushed against Rachel's hips and tried to shift more securely onto the bed. "Just…baby, twist that way. Let's-"

Rachel cried out her wife's name right as Quinn went sliding gracefully to the floor.

It would be dramatic to say she disappeared from view. Honestly, Rachel wasn't sure what happened to her. She was in far too much bliss to wonder where Quinn had gone. One second she was there-blonde and heated and heavy on Rachel's leg-and the next she was out of sight.

Rachel registered a muffled thump over her own heavy breathing.

When she could see straight again, she lifted up on her elbows and glanced down at the floor. Quinn sat there, rubbing at her knee and making no move to get back up.

"Bear?" Rachel panted, waving an arm in Quinn's direction. "You're-are you alright?"

Quinn looked up at her wordlessly, unamused and tired. One pant leg was still dangling pathetically from her cast.

"Come here, baby." Rachel requested, smiling when Quinn started to scoot towards her.

Rachel rested a hand on Quinn's messy blonde head as soon as it was close enough. Quinn leaned against the bed and sighed as Rachel played with her hair.

"We might have to cut you out of those." Rachel whispered, pointing at the sweatpants.

Quinn eyed them with disdain.

Rachel scooted closer to the edge of the bed so that she could see Quinn's face. "Come back up here."

"No."

"Aren't you cold on the floor?"

Quinn was silent for a moment. "No."

Rachel leaned over to talk right next to Quinn's ear, careful to keep her hips elevated because it could mean the difference between pregnancy and no pregnancy. If her doctors told her to hang upside down and spin from the ceiling fan for an hour, she'd tell Quinn to grab a ladder and strap her up. Rachel was not taking any chances.

"Do you have a headache, bear?" she whispered, tapping Quinn's ear.

Quinn hummed.

"Was it there when we started?"

Quinn shook her head.

Rachel smiled slightly. "Have you lost your voice?"

Quinn nodded.

"I don't think I believe you."

"Stop pulling my hair." Quinn murmured, tipping her head back against the bed. Rachel scoffed lightly and kissed her forehead. She continued dragging her fingers through blonde hair, smiling to herself when Quinn didn't complain.

"Do you think we did it?" she wondered.

Quinn chuckled quietly and caught Rachel's gaze. "Rachel. We definitely did it. Where have you-was that not you just now? In bed? Oh my God." Quinn's eyes widened. "Did I just have-"

"I meant get pregnant." Rachel pressed a palm over Quinn's smiling mouth. "Do you think we got pregnant?"

Quinn's smile softened. She held Rachel's wrist lightly and moved her hand away from her mouth.

"It's been about twenty seconds, baby."

Rachel sighed.

Quinn kneeled clumsily, and then stood up and turned around to climb over Rachel onto the bed. She traced her hands over Rachel's bare stomach and then draped herself across Rachel's body, careful to grope as much as possible on the way.

"Excuse me, please. Pardon me." Quinn remarked politely, pausing to kiss her wife's cheeks and stare curiously down at her breasts.

Rachel's chest shook with silent laughter.

Quinn hefted her cast up behind her with a groan, and then dragged the rest of her body over Rachel's. Rachel tugged and pushed on her butt to help her. Quinn finally collapsed into her side, breathless and tangled in sweats and blankets.

"I think you are." She said into Rachel's hair. "I think we did it."

Rachel smiled. "Why do you think that?"

"I'm a genius, Rachel. I know it."

Rachel lightly tapped Quinn's head. "Of course."

"And whatever happens, it's going to be my favorite thing."

"I think you're concussed." Rachel drawled.

"I think…I'm a genius. And you need to listen to me, little bear." Quinn smiled and pressed her nose into Rachel's cheek. "Whatever happens, I can't wait. Because I have you and those brownie things you made this morning. And James. And I have-"

Quinn cut herself off and furrowed her brows. "Actually, did you put cookie dough in them? Or is it just chocolate chips? I found a recipe for-last week-for cookie dough brownies, but they're-they require a whole tube of dough and that doesn't seem like the healthiest-"

"Baby." Rachel chuckled and tapped her wife's cheek. "It's just the chips."

Quinn stared distractedly at the ceiling fan. She sat up abruptly and scooted to the edge of the bed. Rachel nodded, unsurprised.

"I'm getting one." Quinn informed, trying to pat down her hair. "You stay here. Do you want-I can make you something, maybe. A sandwich? Strawberries?"

"I'm fine, baby." Rachel shook her head.

Quinn nodded and stood from the bed, balanced on one leg. She ignored her crutches in the corner of the room and eyed the hallway with determination. Rachel didn't bother telling her to be careful. She sat back in her pillows and watched her wife bunny hop her way to a brownie, dragging sweatpants along behind her.

~ooooooooooooo~

"I like Alex."

"For a boy or girl?" Quinn swung across the living room floor on her crutches, her third attempt at making it to the kitchen without letting her feet touch the hardwood.

Rachel shrugged from the couch. "Both."

"Yeah, no, that's our name." Santana shook her head at Rachel and patted Brittany's belly. "We have dibs. You can have…Nacho Fosco or some shit like that. Just don't tell Sam."

"You can't call dibs on all of the names, Santana. Yours isn't even born yet."

Quinn swung her leg up too high and staggered sideways into the wall. She leaned against it and pointed a crutch at Rachel. "Baby, we're not even pregnant. They're a few steps ahead."

Rachel crossed her arms. "We could be pregnant." She muttered petulantly. "You don't know."

"Baby Nacho." Santana stared thoughtfully at the wall, bouncing James on her lap. "Maybe something fun, like Octavia. Or Damian Berry-Fabray, spawn of the devil."

Brittany nodded enthusiastically. "Or something unique. Like Thor. Or Zebra."

"I like Jemima." Quinn managed to get out before tripping forward over Barnaby. She let her crutches clatter to the floor and hopped around to play with him.

Rachel stared at her. "Jemima. Like the pancakes."

Quinn's eyes lit up like that hadn't occurred to her.

"Little Debbie Berry-Fabray." Santana laughed loudly and James joined in, delighted with the sound. He scrunched up his face and twisted to see Santana's.

"No, like Jeremy and Jemima. From Chitty Chitty Bang Bang." Quinn clarified. She bent forward precariously and lifted her crutches, and then swung her way over to Rachel. Rachel put a steadying hand on her wife's side when she clumsily draped herself over the back of the couch.

"Jeremy's cute." Rachel mused.

Quinn rested her chin on Rachel's shoulder. "And Jemima."

Santana scoffed. "Please don't become one of those families. Twelve kids whose names all start with the letter J. Damn fools."

"You're in one of those families, San." Brittany informed with a smile.

Rachel ignored them. She wondered if naming her daughter Jemima was worth thinking of pancakes at least once a day for the rest of her life. Every single time she called her child's name she'd get that mental picture. Aunt Jemima, homestyle pancakes. Baby buttermilk Berry.

It would nearly be as bad as Nacho. She frowned and tapped Quinn's cheek.

"Maybe if you shortened it." She offered.

Or tried something else entirely.

"Emmy. Emma. And something that doesn't start with a J for a boy."

"Rupert." Quinn said immediately-loudly-into Rachel's ear. "Like Rupert Bear, from the books."

Santana shook her head sagely, bouncing her knees to make James giggle. "Jay, man, I don't know how you got out of there with an acceptable name."

"We already have a Christopher Robin, Quinn. Do we really need-"

"Rupert's a sweet name." Quinn protested. "Rupert Rollo Berry-Fabray."

Rachel snorted a laugh. She brought a hand up to wrap around Quinn's neck, pulling her closer. "Rollo? Seriously?"

"Maybe…not Rollo." Quinn amended uncertainly. She untangled herself from Rachel and hobbled around to sit on the couch. "He's just another character in the books. I like Rupert Bear."

Rachel gazed at her, mulling the name over.

Quinn flushed and shook her head around. "Or something-something else. It doesn't have to be-you-we liked Thomas."

Rachel smiled and leaned forward to help Quinn prop her cast up on the coffee table. "Just thinking, bear."

"Mommy!" James declared, bouncing wildly in Santana's lap. Santana lightly held the back of his shirt to keep him from tipping forward. He waited until he had Quinn's attention and then shook his whole upper body around, knocking his head into Santana's chin.

"Hello, sweetheart!" Quinn waved happily back at him.

Santana rubbed her chin. "Hard-headed little-"

"Do you want to go and give him his snack?" Rachel interrupted, gesturing at the kitchen. Brittany nodded immediately, seizing Santana's shoulder to heave herself up off the couch. "He can have bananas and peanut butter. He'll try to get away with eating only the peanut butter though, so watch him."

Quinn hummed. "Mama needs to stop buying bananas."

Rachel tipped sideways against the arm of the couch, dragging Quinn with her. "You love bananas."

"I prefer peanut butter." Quinn remarked, lips quirked. "Jif could be a name. Reese. Skittle. Peppermint Patty."

Rachel prodded Quinn's ribs. "What about your mother's name?" she suggested quietly. "Mae. For a girl."

Quinn was silent for a moment. She fiddled with the rubber band on her wrist.

"That's…Yes, that's nice." She finally said, smiling softly. "For-maybe-I don't think it should be the first name. Maybe for a middle name.

Rachel nodded easily.

"She bought me all my Rupert Bear books. And Pooh Bear. And Chitty Chitty Bang Bang."

Rachel smiled and hugged Quinn closer.

Quinn frowned. "Is it-do we-I mean, I don't remember her very well. Is that-is that alright to name a child after her? That's…She could have been a completely different person than how I think of her."

"No, bear." Rachel said quickly, surely, ignoring Brittany singing the Bananas in Pajamas song in the background.

Quinn narrowed her eyes at Rachel. "What do you mean no?"

"Your mother made you." Rachel smiled. "And your father. It wasn't where you grew up, or your neighbors, or Lisa, or the kids at school. They could've ruined you. But your mom gave you four years of bears and music and unconditional love, and you've managed to hold onto that all this time."

Quinn pursed her lips, gaze fixed on Rachel.

"I would love to have a daughter named after your mom." Rachel continued earnestly. "And I want my babies to come out just how hers did."

Quinn flushed and pressed her face into Rachel's chest, trying to suppress her smile.

"We should get your old pictures out more often." Rachel slipped the rubber band from Quinn's wrist and held her hand still. "You were probably the sweetest baby."

"Our baby's the sweetest baby." Quinn said, muffled by Rachel's shirt.

Rachel grinned. "Our baby sits on his bananas so that all he has to eat is peanut butter."

"Our baby's resourceful. He's telling mama to stop buying bananas."

Rachel scoffed. "He's telling mommy to stop teaching him that it's okay to eat peanut butter by itself."

"I did exactly the same thing growing up." Quinn's eyes danced. "And you want our babies to come out exactly like me, right?"

"No, actually. I don't know what I was thinking." Rachel shook her head.

"Of course you do, little bear."

"It would be awful." Rachel drawled, slipping the rubber band back onto Quinn's wrist when her wife reached for it.

Quinn sighed. "Jemima Mae Berry-Fabray."

All Rachel could see were the chocolate chip pancakes Quinn had made for breakfast.

"We'll think it over." She assured.

"Oh my God, he's sitting on them!" Santana screeched in the background. "He's sitting on the bananas. Rachel-he's-what the hell have you been teaching this child?"

Quinn laughed against Rachel's neck as "Bananas in Pajamas" drowned out Santana's cries.

~oooooooooooo~

Butter was fourteen years old, according to Quinn. She'd lost weight over the years, especially after George died, so she no longer looked like the bottom ball of a snowman, but her disturbingly different-colored eyes had grown hazy.

Quinn sat on the floor of the living room with a small paper bag and a stethoscope. She gave the cat fluids first, a subcutaneous injection right between her shoulder blades, a daily ritual. Quinn then wrapped a potassium tablet up in a cat treat and stuffed it into the corner of Butter's mouth. She put her hand over the cat's nostrils until she felt her swallow.

Rachel could hear her wife chattering away- right into Butter's ear-but she couldn't make out the words.

Quinn held Butter up by her scruff, one hand under her belly to support her weight. She loosened her grip to see if Butter would stay standing, but the cat didn't even bother to try to hold herself up.

Quinn sighed and sat back and rubbed behind Butter's ears.

"Can she lift her head?" Rachel asked quietly, watching from the breakfast bar.

"A little bit."

Rachel stood up and moved to the living room. She crouched next to Quinn and studied Butter sadly. The cat looked content, purring away as Quinn rubbed her ears. She eyed Rachel, and Rachel wondered when those alien eyes had become so endearing.

"She's the same as George was." Rachel remarked softly.

Quinn nodded.

Rachel reached over and played with the back of Quinn's collar. "What comes next, baby?"

Quinn puffed out her cheeks. "His kidneys are shutting down." She met Rachel's worried gaze. "The ulcers will get worse, gastrointestinal bleeding, coma…death."

Poor fat Butter.

Rachel rested a hand on her fur and felt her chest rumble.

"Do you think we should-soon-I mean, should we-" Rachel paused and licked her lips. Quinn tugged her closer, knocking her out of her crouching position. Rachel tumbled into her side and hugged Quinn's arm.

"Yes, babe." Quinn murmured.

"We're losing all of our animals."

"They're getting old." Quinn nodded.

Rachel tugged on Butter's tail until the cat swatted lazily at her hand with a paw.

"And we're gaining babies." Rachel smiled slightly. Their pets had been her family for eight years. They were basically her babies as well. Each one told a story.

Butter and George were the fatso cats they adopted on the day Quinn gave her speech at the animal rescue open house.

Cloud filled the place of their lovely, fluffy Pongo, while Cornelius entered the household as a demon puppy in a shoebox.

"Hey, Charizard." Quinn called, clapping her thighs to get the dog's attention. Charizard sat quietly near the front door, watching the scene in the living room. "Come here, dog."

Charizard ambled over stiffly, wagging his tail. He laid down with his back to Butter's and vaguely offered Quinn one of his paws. She took it and squeezed it and scratched at the white fur around his eyes.

"Char's a mighty fellow." Quinn muttered to nobody in particular. Maybe Rachel, maybe an animal. Probably just to herself. Rachel watched her fondly.

"Char eats fire." Quinn continued, rubbing his tummy. "Who needs noses? He certainly doesn't. And that's-"

Quinn cut herself off as a black and white bundle rocketed out of the hallway. Cornelius seemed to have abruptly realized that there were people sitting on the floor-his level, ready to play with him-and he bounded around Rachel and dove straight for her slipper.

Rachel indulged him because the silky black fur around his eyes was turning white as well.

Barnaby and Cloud followed, with Jelly Bean stalking slowly behind. The orange cat leapt onto the breakfast bar-knocking off several pens and paper clips-and watched the scene, head tipped curiously.

"Jelly will be the last cat left." Rachel said with difficulty, struggling to keep hold of her slipper.

Quinn blew into Seal's ear to distract him and he bounced into her lap. She wrapped him in a loose headlock and rolled on top of him on the floor. Barnaby snuffled through Quinn's hair and Cloud lunged repeatedly at the curious purple cast. Rachel pulled Butter into her arms and kissed her head and laughed loudly.

If ever there was a way to say goodbye. Butter had to know she was loved.

"We need-I'd like three kittens." Quinn smiled at Rachel and shoved at Cornelius' face. "Like in The Aristocats, named Toulouse, Berlioz, and Marie."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Maybe not three, bear."

Quinn tossed a squeaky toy across the room to get the dogs away from her. She looked at Rachel and softened at the sight of Butter.

"Maybe we'll take a break after chubby Butter." She offered, fixing the slipper on Rachel's foot.

Rachel shook her head. She knew it wouldn't happen.

Quinn smiled sweetly. The first day Quinn was able to take the stairs and leave the house, Rachel fully expected her to come home with a stray. And Rachel would huff and puff and welcome it with open arms.

~ooooooooooooo~

"Just do it, Rachel."

Rachel tipped back into the pillows on her dressing room couch and sighed loudly. She covered her face and rubbed at her eyes. "I have to be on stage in fifteen minutes."

"Because you've been stalling for an hour." Quinn picked up a crutch and prodded it into Rachel's side. "Take the test, baby."

It had been sitting in Rachel's bag for two days now, weighing her down.

Rachel stayed silent.

"I hobbled all the way here, sweetheart." Quinn said gently, hanging on her crutches. She reached out with her good leg and knocked it against Rachel's knee. "We almost plummeted down the stairs together. My knee is throbbing and I'd really like to know if we're going to have another baby."

Rachel puffed out her cheeks and stared up at Quinn.

"Please?" Quinn smiled and leaned forward, looming over Rachel until their faces were inches apart. Rachel could smell the Jolly Ranchers on her breath.

"Please, baby? Honey? Sugar puff? Frosted flake? Cinnamon Toast Crunch?"

Rachel snorted lightly. "You're just listing cereals." She pushed against Quinn's chest to get some personal space back, and Quinn dropped heavily next to her on the couch.

"I need to mix Rice Krispies with cake frosting and see what happens." Quinn mused quietly.

Rachel picked at the hem of Quinn's dress.

"Or grind up Cocoa Puffs to make my own chocolate milk. Have you-I could emulsify that yogurt you like with some thin milk, and-do we have a blender?" Quinn blinked rapidly and scratched at her thigh. "One that-one that hasn't been used for dog food? Rachel, if we got some Honey Bunches of Oats, and mixed-"

"Quinn." Rachel laughed shortly. She held up the pregnancy test and watched her wife's focus return. Quinn held her hands still, eyes sharp.

"What if it says no?" Rachel wondered.

"We keep going." Quinn supplied immediately. She squeezed Rachel's hand and nudged her shoulder. "Don't slow down, baby."

Rachel swallowed and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Eight minutes." Quinn whispered.

Rachel bit her lip. She leaned forward and stood slowly, and Quinn hooked a finger around her belt loop and tapped her butt supportively. Rachel didn't say anything as she strode off towards the bathroom, but she looked back and smiled at how carefully she was being watched.

She took the test in the bathroom, and then changed into her costume while she waited for the results. Quinn was swinging through the dressing room when Rachel shuffled back out, test in hand.

"Ready in three, baby." Quinn said quietly, dropping her crutches to fix Rachel's hair and the collar of her dress.

Rachel realized it probably wasn't the most opportune time to have taken a pregnancy test.

She took a breath and shut her eyes and held up the test for Quinn to see. Quinn made a small noise of surprise and steadied Rachel's wrist.

"You don't want to see?" she asked evenly. Rachel heard no joy or disappointment in her wife's tone.

"No."

"You're absolutely sure you don't want to open your eyes right now, Rachel?"

"Yes. Hurry up and tell me, please." Rachel's voice was strained. She felt Quinn step closer, smelled the Jolly Ranchers on her breath again.

"I think you want to open your eyes, Rachel."

Rachel complied, only because she could hear the smile in Quinn's voice. Quinn pried the pregnancy test out of her hand and locked her arms around Rachel's waist. She stared down at her wife, poker-faced.

"Well?" Rachel lifted her eyebrows and dug her nails into Quinn's arm.

Quinn tipped her head. "Did you know human pregnancy tests are a type of enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay?"

Rachel narrowed her eyes.

"It tests for hormones."

"Quinn, shut-if you don't-just tell me what-"

Quinn kissed Rachel to stop her stuttering and then swayed her from side to side. "Will you be kissing our babies with that mouth?"

Rachel huffed and rolled her eyes. And then stopped to think. A smile spread across Quinn's face and she ran her hands up Rachel's bare arms.

"Is it positive?" Rachel whispered when her brain caught up to Quinn's words.

Quinn nodded, smiling softly. Rachel shot forward without a second thought, knocking Quinn off balance and into the arm of the couch. She was airborne when she remembered that Quinn only had one leg to stand on, but Quinn was laughing so loudly as she toppled backwards that Rachel figured this was alright.

"Thirty seconds, Mrs. Berry!" An assistant shouted from the dressing room door.

Rachel gasped. She was pumped-hands shaking, heart racing, cheeks flushed-and she sloppily kissed Quinn's laughing lips before clambering back to her feet and smoothing down her dress. She bounced excitedly away, leaving her wife sprawled over the couch arm ten yards away from her crutches.

"Love you, little bear." Quinn called, pointing in Rachel's vague direction.

Rachel would grind up Cocoa Puffs with a mortar and pestle just to make chocolate milk for that woman. She'd buy chocolate frosting and Rice Krispies and name her baby Jemima Pancake.

All Rachel managed to shriek was "Love you too!" as she stepped out of the dressing room.

And then she stepped on stage- pregnant and flustered- with the taste of apple Jolly Ranchers on her tongue.