V
"Don't forget to put on sunscreen," Rachel calls out from Quinn's bedroom, her voice travelling into the ensuite bathroom where the blonde is busy with the finishing touches on her appearance.
"Rach, you realise you already texted me about that last night, right?" Quinn informs her.
"One can't be too careful, Quinn," Rachel says. "You're very pale. Your skin is susceptible to a good burn, and skin cancer is one of the leading causes of cancerous deaths."
Quinn doesn't even have a response to that.
"Quinn?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't mean to rush you, but it's almost noon, and every punctual bone in my body is screaming at me to get a move on."
Quinn smiles to herself. "I'm almost done, Rach," she says. "Why don't you gather the cooler, and I'll meet you at the door?"
There's a bit of shuffling, the sound of soft footsteps, and then silence. Quinn uses the time to centre herself, clear her head and prepare for what's to come. After Friday's dinner with Kurt and Blaine, she feels more settled and hopelessly lost simultaneously, and she's so very unsure.
Does she just… enjoy it?
Does she throw herself into this role she's supposed to play, and then just suffer the consequences later?
Quinn takes in a deep breath, holds it for several beats, and then releases it slowly.
It's okay.
She's okay.
Everything is going to be okay.
Rachel's beaming smile when she finally emerges from her bedroom helps her believe it. Even within the space of the apartment, Rachel links their fingers, and then they set off for their destination.
Quinn lets Rachel get them to Pelham Bay Park, the two of them using the Subway to get to Queens. Quinn doesn't usually make it out this far. Not regularly, at least. Nobody she knows lives in this Borough, but she finds she quite likes it.
The two of them arrive just as the barbecue/picnic seems to be getting started, and Quinn shoots Rachel a knowing smirk.
"Oh, shut up," Rachel mutters.
"I didn't even say anything," Quinn defends with a laugh.
"Well, you're not saying anything very loudly."
Quinn's laughter bubbles out of her, and she gently tugs Rachel closer to bump their shoulders. "You're very special, did you know that?"
Rachel feels heat creeping up her neck, and it's the sound of Denny calling out to them that breaks their moment. With a wide grin at the woman - dubbed the Mom to the entire production - Rachel leads Quinn in her direction.
Denny is hovering near the food tables, organising dishes to make self-service more efficient. "You're here," she says, pulling Rachel, and then, Quinn into hugs. "Ooh, what did you bring for us?"
Quinn laughs softly, her eyes alight in all the best ways as she sets the cooler on some empty space on a tabletop.
Denny seems to catch herself staring at Quinn's smiling face, and then drops her gaze to the dishes Quinn pulls out.
"We have a cold bean salad," Quinn says, handing the covered bowl to Denny. "Vegan, of course." She shakes her head as if she's been personally insulted. "I also made some normal-people coleslaw. I got some rave reviews the other night, so I thought I'd try it again. Then, we also have some vegan garlic and herb rolls. Rachel is an absolute sucker for them."
"I am," Rachel interjects, her mouth already salivating at the mere idea of them.
"And, finally, we have vegan blueberry muffins," Quinn says, pulling out the last container. "This one here was initially going to bake cookies," she says, pointing her thumb at Rachel; "but then she caught a whiff of what I was bringing to the party, and she felt intimidated."
"I wanted to contribute," Rachel mumbles.
Quinn just smiles, easily slipping an arm around Rachel's shoulders and drawing her into a hug. "They smell divine, Rach," she murmurs. "I can't wait to try one."
Denny can't help her own smile as Rachel sinks into Quinn's embrace. They're just so cute. "I'll just lay these out, then," she says. "You can just pop your cooler under one of the tables."
Quinn does just that. "Do you need help with anything?" she asks, ever polite.
"Oh, no, no," Denny says, waving them off. "I've got my sister-in-law somewhere around here if I need something done," she says with a wicked grin. "You two go mingle. Enjoy yourselves. Drinks are over there, and I think Tom is about to start up the grill."
Rachel raises her eyebrows. "And, how do we feel about that?" she asks.
Denny grimaces slightly. "I'm expecting a few burns, but I think he's learned a great deal from the last time we ended up in the Emergency Room."
"Wait, what?" Quinn asks.
Rachel slips her arm around Quinn's waist. "Come on, let's go find him," she says. "I'm sure he'll love to tell the story again."
After getting themselves drinks - iced tea for Quinn and orange juice for Rachel - the two of them do just that. Tom is all too eager to launch into his tale, laughing at himself and proudly showing off his scars and burns.
"I'm a real Grill Dad now," he declares, and his gathered audience joins in his laughter.
When they disperse, Rachel and Quinn do the rounds with Frankie, and then pick up Jasmine along the way.
It's a little awkward at first, seeing as this is the first time Quinn and the two of them have interacted since that fateful night, but Quinn recovers quickly, and Rachel helps by kissing the blonde's cheek to show that all is well.
"You guys up for some Frisbee?" Alec shouts from across the way, and Quinn and Rachel exchange a look.
"Like pretty girl and the midget would ever consider something like that," Megan comments, and a handful of people roll their eyes at the predicted jibe.
Quinn shrugs. "I'm game," she says. "Rach?"
Rachel presses a hand to Quinn's back, asking the silent question about her capabilities. "Are you sure?"
Quinn nods. "It should be fine," she says. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Famous last words.
Alec separates them into two teams, electing himself as Captain of one and Frankie of the other. Alec picks Quinn first because duh, and Rachel ends up on Frankie's team.
"You're going down, Fabray," Rachel taunts, a bright smile on her face.
"Yes, she is," Alec quips, and he receives a smack to the back of his head from Jasmine. "Ouch."
Jasmine ends up with Alec as well, along with Luca, James and Liz. With Frankie and Rachel, they have Khanh, Brendan, Megan and Kira. It's a good mix, and Elliot offers to be their referee.
"Don't hurt my superstars," he warns them all, and then sends them to their respective ends of the patch of lawn they've decided to use as their playing field.
Quinn presses a kiss to Rachel's forehead, and then sends her on her way. "It's on, Berry."
"So competitive, Fabray."
"Pot, meet kettle."
"Shut up."
Quinn just chuckles to herself as she heads towards her huddled team. She's never actually played any kind of competitive frisbee before, but she knows it can get intense.
Extreme.
"I think we're going to have to go man for man on defence," Alec says. "Which one of you is fast?"
They all look at one another for a moment, and then Quinn sighs and raises her hand.
Alec smiles at her, and it's the first genuine, utterly sincere, one she's ever received from him. "I have a pretty decent arm," he says. "Think you can receive?"
As a former cheerleader, Quinn definitely can. As a recovered paraplegic, she's not so sure. Still, she nods. "Make it better than decent, and we'll see what happens," she says.
Alec grins now. "Sure," he says, and then turns to the others. "Clear the way for her," he instructs Luca and James. Then, to Jasmine and Liz, he says, "the both of you do what you can to distract them."
Liz raises her eyebrows. "And, how exactly are we supposed to do that?"
"I don't know," Alec says, shrugging. "Use your feminine proclivities."
Quinn rolls her eyes. "You're an idiot."
"I know."
Jasmine laughs. "This is going to be a disaster, isn't it?"
"Oh, definitely," Quinn says. "But, it'll be fun."
"Keep telling yourself that."
It's complete and utter chaos.
But, also, so much fun.
Frankie's team start with the frisbee, and they obviously have no idea what they're doing. They're just laughing at their own antics, and Quinn barely has to do anything to stop Rachel's progress, merely wrapping her arms around her waist, lifting her into the air and spinning her around.
Rachel's laughter is like music to her ears, and it settles every part of her.
"Hey," Alec calls out when the opposition's play falls apart. "She's the enemy, Quinn!"
Quinn squeezes Rachel tightly, and then sets her down. "Watch and learn, baby," she practically purrs, and then spins and walks away.
Well, she saunters away, and Rachel's eyes track her movement, utterly distracted by the sway of blonde hips and the term of endearment.
"Rachel!" Frankie calls out. "Focus! We have to get into position."
Rachel shakes her head to clear it, and then heads towards her team. "Well, that was terrible," she says, blinking repeatedly.
"Dude," Khanh says, looking at Frankie. "I thought you said you could throw."
"It's a lot harder than it looks."
Brendan shrugs. "We just have to make sure they don't score," he says. "Think you can manage that?"
Rachel realises belatedly that he's asking the question of her, and she flushes. If she's being honest, she doesn't think she can manage that, because Quinn is just so Quinn.
And, Rachel is smitten.
She's completely lost.
"I can mark Quinn," Megan says, looking utterly bored. "I'm not as easily distracted as Rachel."
Rachel shakes her head, absently wondering if Quinn will enjoy putting Megan in her place in yet another way. "Fine," she says. "I'll take Jasmine."
Frankie reminds them to… pay attention, and then lets them go. He's not sure what to expect from Alec and his team, but he's curious. They do look slightly more athletic, and a lot more determined.
Quinn can't help her grin when she sees Megan head her way. It's almost too predictable, and she glances over the redhead's shoulder at Rachel, who just shrugs.
"Missed me?" Megan taunts.
Quinn doesn't pay her any attention as she waits for Elliot's signal. When he blows his whistle, everyone starts to move, but Quinn remains perfectly still, waiting and watching for the perfect moment.
Megan frowns at her, ready with her questions.
Quinn glances back at Alec, and they lock eyes. It's just a moment, a decision, and then Quinn is moving. She fakes left, taking Megan with her, and then spins away and runs down the right side.
Fast.
So, so fast.
Almost everyone stops to watch, because Quinn is laughing. There's just this pure, unadulterated joy on her face, as if she knows she has them all mesmerised.
She's also just really fast.
Quinn bends her run to match Alec's attempted throw. It's not perfect, but Quinn still goes for it, speeding up and leaving Megan in her dust, before she practically leaps into the air and plucks the neon green frisbee out of the air, and lands seamlessly. She resists the urge to do a cheerleading pose because, God, no.
"Whoo!" Alec yells, raising his arms in the air. "That was fucking fantastic!"
And, yes, it really was.
So are the next few plays.
Quinn begins to enjoy it thoroughly, and the fact that she constantly shows up Megan is just the icing on the very delicious cake.
She doesn't gloat. Absolutely not. Even though they're literally wiping the floor with the other team.
But, still, Quinn should know better.
It happens after Quinn tackles Rachel for the seventh time, both of them ending up in a heap on the grass, laughing hysterically.
"God, you're sweaty," Rachel complains, but she doesn't try to move away. She can't move anyway, because Quinn is on top of her, smiling so dazzlingly that Rachel can't catch her breath.
Or, it's just that she's winded.
Quinn just kisses the tip of Rachel's nose, and then gets to her feet. She holds her hand out for Rachel and helps her up. "You suck at this, you know?"
"Compared to you, everyone does," she quips, gently tugging on Quinn's t-shirt. "Are you having fun?"
"So much."
"Good."
They stare at each other for a long few seconds, and Quinn's very being is rooted in this moment. She just can't stop smiling. It's ridiculous and pathetic, and she doesn't even care.
Alec yells for her from somewhere behind them, and Quinn rolls her eyes. "My Captain is calling."
Rachel reaches up to kiss her cheek. "Go on, then."
Quinn really should know better, but she still smirks at Megan, winking for good measure, and then moves into position.
It's subtle, Quinn supposes, but so, so dangerous.
There's a shift in Megan's demeanour that Quinn misses, and it goes downhill from there.
When Elliot gives the signal, Quinn waits, but Megan is ready this time. She takes off before Quinn does, barely a second, and then they're running together. Quinn is still faster, so she's going to get to the frisbee's projected flight first, but Megan is much closer to her now.
It's subtle.
Blink and you miss it.
Quinn takes her strides to launch herself off the ground, and Megan is just near enough that, once Quinn is airborne, the shoulder barge into her left hip completely alters her trajectory by turning her centre of mass, and there's nothing for the blonde to grab a hold of to right herself.
Somehow, Quinn still manages to catch the frisbee, but her downward arc is uncontrolled, and her arms flail as she falls to the ground, landing hard on her back, her head bouncing off the grass.
For immeasurable seconds, nothing happens.
Everyone just waits for Quinn to jump to her feet the way she usually does, and declare victory.
Only, she doesn't.
Quinn doesn't move.
At all.
Rachel sucks in a sharp breath, and then she's moving faster than she ever has before, her mind flashing with all the worst scenarios imaginable. She drops to her knees at Quinn's side, too scared to touch her.
"Quinn?" she says. "Quinn, are you okay? Quinn, baby, please open your eyes. Quinn?" With a tentative hand, she reaches out to touch Quinn's cheek. "Quinn," she says. "Sweetheart? You have to wake up."
"Is she okay?" Denny asks from behind Rachel. It's the first time the brunette notices the gathered crowd.
"I - I don't know," Rachel says, and she's fighting sobs. "She suffered a nasty back injury when we were younger. I - "
"Should we call an ambulance?" Jasmine asks. "She landed terribly."
"And her head practically bounced," Frankie says. "If anything, she's going to have whiplash when she comes to."
It's in that moment that Quinn shows her first sign of life, letting out a pained groan as her eyes attempt to blink open. She stares up the blue sky for a moment, and then flinches when Rachel's head moves into view.
Quinn groans again, pain shooting down her spine.
"Quinn," Rachel whispers. "Are you - does it - talk to me."
Quinn breathes out slowly, smiling faintly at the concern on Rachel's face. "It hurts," she manages to say.
"Where?"
"Everywhere."
Rachel doesn't smile. Instead, her mouth turns downwards. "We should take you to the Emergency Room," she says.
"What?" Quinn squeaks. "No, I'm okay."
"I'm pretty sure you were unconscious," Rachel points out.
"For how long?"
"Uh, about a minute."
"Only?" Quinn says. "See? I'm totally fine."
"You were out cold," she immediately counters. "How does that equate to 'fine?'"
Alec taps Rachel on the shoulder. "As much fun as it is to watch you two bicker, is an ambulance going to be needed?"
"Yes," Rachel says at the same time Quinn emphatically declares, "No!"
They glare at each other.
"Tell you what," Rachel says, and she's channelling Quinn; "if you can get to your feet by yourself, we're not going. If you can't, I will drag you there myself."
Rachel rises to her feet and steps back, giving Quinn space.
"The sex must be incredible," Alec mutters behind her, and she instantly flushes. She imagines it must be, too.
Quinn braces herself as best she can, first doing a mental stocktake of her potential injuries. Nothing is glaringly obvious, but she's sure her back is going to be sporting a pretty nasty bruise later. She'll probably have to make an appointment with her chiropractor and go to more yoga classes.
It's what she's thinking about as she forces herself to sit up, her entire body protesting against the movement. She glares up at Rachel, who's just standing and watching.
It's merely the sheer force of will that gets Quinn to her feet. She's aware of people cringing at the various pops they hear as she straightens, but she does stand, by herself, which means no trip to the hospital.
She smiles in victory, but can't bring herself to raise her arms. "I'm guessing we won," she says, because she, somewhat miraculously, still has the frisbee in her hand.
Alec laughs, which sets everyone else off.
Tom clears his throat. "Uh, so, the meat's ready."
It's only later, after Quinn has managed to shuffle towards one of the tables and finally sit that she asks the question.
"Where is Megan?"
Both Frankie and Jasmine shift uncomfortably, neither one of them wanting to answer the question. They'll happily wait for Rachel to return from dishing out food for both Quinn and herself.
"Frankie?" Quinn presses.
The man clears his throat. "Well, after, uh… everything, Denny kind of asked her to leave."
Quinn blinks. "And, she did? Just like that?"
"She kind of did more than ask," Jasmine says. "I honestly think Denny threatened her job."
"Or charges of assault."
Quinn's eyes bulge. "Whoa."
Frankie shakes his head. "She totally knew what she was doing, Quinn," he says sadly. "She knew she could potentially hurt you, and she still did it. It was all supposed to be a bit of fun, you know, and yeah, it sucked having our asses repeatedly handed to us, but I was having fun. You're amazing to watch."
Quinn, predictably, blushes, and has to look away. She's not sure how much she can really comment on Megan when she didn't see the incident. It could have been an accident, right?
Even as she thinks it, she knows it's not true.
"Here we go," Rachel suddenly says, setting down a paper plate in front of Quinn that's piled high with all of Quinn's favourite things.
And the meat.
So much meat.
Rachel wrinkles her nose as she settles beside Quinn. "Don't say I never did anything for you," she says, reaching over and kissing Quinn's cheek.
Quinn reaches for her hand before she can start eating and brings it up to her lips, pressing the lightest of kisses to her palm. "Thank you," she murmurs, her gaze intense.
Rachel is struck dumb, and it takes Alec's boisterous arrival to snap her out of it. Frankie and Jasmine just exchange an amused look, each of them wondering how Rachel even manages to function on her best days with a girl like Quinn who looks at her like that.
Reluctantly, Quinn releases Rachel's hand, says a quick prayer and starts to eat. It's far too much food, but Alec keeps picking at the olives she sets aside, and she concludes he'll eat whatever she doesn't finish. Where he puts it, she doesn't know, because she imagines he has abs to die for.
Well, so does she.
Quinn notices the moment Rachel shifts closer to her, and she smiles to herself when the entirety of her side is pressed against the brunette's. Rachel is warmer than Quinn, practically running hot, and Quinn just wants to touch.
She resists.
Tom and Denny join them at their table, squeezing in tightly, and Alec elbows Quinn every few mouthfuls, but she honestly can't bring herself to be mad about it. He's like that annoying and inappropriate little brother that you can't help but adore.
It also puts her a little closer to Rachel.
Denny offers Quinn some painkillers when she notices the blonde grimace one too many times, which Quinn gratefully accepts. She downs them with the water Rachel has been siphoning as they've been eating and, like usual, it just makes her smile.
Santana would probably gag.
"Did you really make these?" Jasmine asks Quinn, slicing her second garlic and herb roll into two and handing one half to Frankie.
Quinn nods.
"They're amazing," Alec says, his mouth full of a bite of said roll.
"They're Rachel's favourites," Quinn says, and she's probably ruined so many things for herself with the way she keeps going.
Really, Quinn thinks she's been ruined since the first time she laid eyes on this tiny human being, who owns her heart in all the best and worst ways.
Jasmine sighs. "You know, I thought I was happy being single, but you two are making me reevaluate my stance," she says, glaring playfully at them. "Thank you for that."
"You're welcome," Rachel returns brightly, noticing the slight shift in direction of Jasmine's gaze. Well well well.
Denny pipes up from the other end of the table. "I'm still waiting to read this story."
And, honestly, Quinn thinks she actually is.
Quinn waits until Rachel is helping to clear and clean up to move from her seated position. She's made sure to keep completely still since she took her seat, but she knows her back is swollen, and the bruise is probably bright and blue.
Clenching her teeth as tightly as possible, she pushes herself up from the bench, doing her best not to cry out at the shooting pain and the latent tingling in her legs. Tears spring to her eyes and she immediately snaps them shut as she shifts into a standing position.
It's better when she's upright, she thinks, but it still fucking hurts.
She fakes it enough to get back to Manhattan, and is convincing enough to get back to her apartment without Rachel demanding she go to the hospital again. There's a part of her that acknowledges she probably should, but she just can't.
She thinks she's had enough of them for one lifetime.
"I'm going to put these away," Rachel says once they're inside, indicating the cooler of leftovers Denny insisted they take with them. "You should probably go lie down. I'll bring you some water and stronger painkillers."
And, okay, Quinn knows she shouldn't be enjoying this as much as she is, but Rachel is here and she's taking care of her, and it's better than Quinn ever imagined.
Quinn shuffles towards her bedroom, and immediately slips out of her shoes. With little preamble she strips out of her demin shorts and t-shirt, dropping them to the floor. From her closet, she pulls out a pair of sleep-shorts and an old William McKinley t-shirt.
She struggles into the shorts, but waits with the t-shirt. She has to see what it looks like first and, frankly, she wishes she hadn't bothered to look.
The bruise is large and dark and ugly, spreading right across her lower back and along her left side. The ache is present, and there's a definite throbbing along the back of her neck. Sleep is going to be difficult to come by, and she cringes at the thought of trying to find a comfortable position even to try.
It's the sudden gasp behind her that clues Quinn into the fact she's no longer alone, and she spins around, her t-shirt automatically moving to cover her bra-clad chest, but Rachel's eyes are on the endless bruise.
"Oh, my God," Rachel says, her eyes bulging. "Quinn?"
As quickly as she can, Quinn slips on the t-shirt, and then offers Rachel a smile that she hopes is reassuring. It doesn't seem to work, though, because the tears still pool in the brunette's eyes, and Quinn curses herself for making her cry again.
Rachel makes her way into the room, depositing the glass of water and bottle of pills she has with her on Quinn's nightstand, and then moves to stand in front of the blonde.
"How much does it hurt?" Rachel asks, tentatively reaching out and pinching the fabric of Quinn's t-shirt between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand.
Quinn doesn't respond, because Rachel definitely shouldn't know the answer to that question.
"I'm sorry."
Quinn sighs. "Why on earth are you sorry?"
"I don't know," she confesses. "Megan is supposed to be my problem, and now you're hurt, and I was too concerned with you to deal with her in the aftermath, but I promise I'll deal with her when I next see her."
Quinn chuckles softly, barely making a sound. "Rachel Berry, my little warrior."
That does it, for some reason, and Rachel's tears start to fall as she fists her hands into Quinn's shirt and leans into her, her forehead dropping to Quinn's sternum.
Quinn's arms immediately wrap around her. "Seriously, I'm okay," she says, trying to sound reassuring.
Rachel just burrows into her, sniffling.
"I swear, every weekend with you is exciting," she says, trying to inject humour into her tone of voice. "If we don't end up fighting for some reason, you always seem to end up in tears. Never a dull moment with us."
"This isn't funny, Quinn," she grumbles.
Quinn just chuckles, absently rubbing her back. "I'm fine."
"You could have died."
And, okay, Quinn could tease her about being dramatic, but even she can acknowledge that she really could have landed awkwardly enough to snap her neck or something equally drastic.
And, if there hadn't been soft grass, it definitely could have been a lot worse.
"Rachel," Quinn whispers, deflating slightly. "Look at me."
It takes a moment, but Rachel does pull back, her wet eyes searching for Quinn's. "I can't lose you," she says, and it sounds so heavy.
"I'm not going anywhere," Quinn says, lifting her hands to cup Rachel's cheeks. "I'm right here. I promise I'm not going anywhere." She presses her lips to Rachel's forehead. "Where would I even go?" she questions. "Everywhere I could go, you would follow."
"And, now you make me sound like a creeper."
Quinn laughs softly, her breath warm against Rachel's skin. Her hands shift, and she wraps her arms around Rachel's shoulders, pressing their fronts tightly together.
The boundaries between their bodies and between what's real and what's not in this relationship are starting to get dangerously blurred.
Rachel spends the rest of Sunday with Quinn.
She doesn't even ask; she just does it. First, she gets the blonde situated on the couch, so she can watch television, placing the remote in her hand and kissing the top of her head as if it's the simplest thing in the world.
Rachel makes Quinn some tea, which she dutifully drinks… and then promptly falls asleep when the stronger painkillers she has in possession for just this situation take full effect. It's fascinating to Rachel witnessing Quinn slip into oblivion, and actually watching her sleep - which, okay, may or may not be considered creepy - is equally as captivating.
Rachel eventually settles on her end of the couch, her eyes slipping closed as she follows Quinn into deep slumber.
That she doesn't wake from until it's almost midnight.
Dragging herself off the couch, she checks to see that Quinn is still zonked out. It's stupidly adorable, and Rachel hates to wake her, even if it is just to say goodbye.
Instead, she sends Quinn a text that she'll see in the morning, makes sure Quinn's morning alarm is set, kisses the top of her head and then quietly leaves.
All the while unable to shake the feeling that she should probably stay.
Megan doesn't show up at the theatre on Monday, and nobody is brave enough to ask the Powers-That-Be about it. Rachel and Frankie do exchange a few significant looks, but they don't discuss it. Too many ears around.
Rachel supposes she'll take her little victories where she can get them.
During their lunch break, Rachel excuses herself because she wants to go and check on Quinn by disguising it as a lunch delivery. She picks up Quinn's favourite soup, and then makes her way to Columbia. She has to sign in as a visitor, and then weave her way through the many students to Quinn's office… that is empty of said blonde.
One of Quinn's office mates - Jason, from Rachel's memory - smiles at her, clearly recognising her from her previous visits. "She's not here," he says. "She hasn't been in all day. Called in sick."
Rachel blinks. "Wait. She's not here?"
Jason's brow furrows. "Not that I've seen, at least."
"Oh," she sounds. "Well, thank you."
With that, she leaves the office, her own confusion portrayed all over her face. She's received two texts from Quinn today. One from early this morning, a quick good morning, yeah, I'm up and then she received a second one three hours ago.
Rachel pulls up the text again, checking to see that she didn't actually read wrong.
She didn't.
Quinn: Sorry I haven't been able to reply to your texts. The office has been really busy today.
Rachel doesn't know if she should be angry or worried, but she decides to push both feelings aside until she lays eyes on Quinn. She hasn't received any replies since that last one, so she doesn't bother trying to reach the blonde now.
Instead, she starts for Murray Hill, forcing herself not to break into a run. If she knows Quinn - and she knows enough - then the blonde would stay home only if it was dire. And, to lie to Rachel about it, well, then it must be critical.
Okay, so she's a little angry with Quinn.
Irritated, maybe.
Mostly, just worried.
Something.
Everything.
It doesn't take Rachel long to get to Quinn's apartment and, for the first time ever, she lets herself into it with her key. She's unsure what she's expecting to find but, what she does, definitely isn't something she would have imagined.
Quinn isn't where Rachel left her, but she's awfully close. The blonde is lying on her stomach on the floor just in front of the couch, as if she tried to move, and just couldn't, and then ended up falling off the couch, and didn't bother to try to get up.
It's a pitiful sight, really, and Rachel feels her heart clench in her chest. She should have stayed. She should have made sure Quinn was okay, instead of just trusting this flighty blonde to diagnose herself.
Rachel hurries around the coffee table, and kneels near Quinn's head after making sure that her chest is moving. She turns Quinn's face slightly, and then gasps at the sight of blood.
"What the - "
There's a gash above Quinn's eyebrow, and Rachel leans back, surveying the situation. Her breath catches when she realises Quinn must have knocked her head against the table on her way down, and she couldn't really do anything about it. It's inevitable that tears pool in Rachel's eyes as she retrieves her phone and makes the call she really should have made the day before.
She sits quietly with a clearly-out-of-it Quinn, her hand gently threading through soft blonde hair as they wait. She forces herself not to let her thoughts spin out of control, even though it's all she wants.
Quinn.
God, Quinn.
Rachel has enough mental faculties to let the paramedics in when they arrive, and then enough brain power to answer their questions.
While they see to Quinn, Rachel packs a bag for Quinn and grabs all the relevant essentials and documents. She feels as if she's operating on autopilot, her body knowing what to do without her brain fully on board.
"Are you ready to go?" one of the paramedics - Owen, according to his shirt - asks her.
Rachel can only nod, because then they're moving. Her heartbeat hasn't slowed down since she arrived at Quinn's office to find her desk empty. Her breath is ragged, and the sight of Quinn, bruised and battered, isn't helping with anything.
"Can - can I hold her hand?" Rachel finds herself asking, once they're in the back of the ambulance.
"Of course," Owen says, smiling reassuringly. "We're going to get your girlfriend some help as quickly as possible."
And, really, Rachel doesn't think to correct him.
It's a good thing, too, because, as Quinn's partner, she's allowed to stay with the blonde for the most part. Rachel hands over the file containing Quinn's medical history, and watches as doctors work around her from the outside of the trauma room.
One of the nurses leads her away, and gets her to fill in a few forms for Quinn. It gives her something to focus on until her phone starts buzzing.
It's Frankie.
She's supposed to be back at the theatre by now.
"Elliot's freaking out," is the first thing Frankie says when she answers. "Where are you?"
Rachel blinks once, twice, and then speaks. "At the hospital."
"What?"
"Quinn," she says. "I - I went to check on her, and she was unconscious, and there was blood and I didn't even know where the blood came from and she wasn't moving and now we're at the hospital and ohmygod, what if I never see her again?"
"Whoa, whoa, calm down, Rachel," he says, hiding his own panic. "You're at the hospital now, right? They'll figure out what's wrong, and they'll fix her right up, and everything is going to be fine."
"You can't know that," she says softly, almost petulantly.
"Perhaps," he agrees softly; "but I can hope." He says something to someone away from the phone. When he's back, he sounds more calm. "Look, which hospital are you at?"
"Uh, Mount Sinai."
"Okay," Frankie says. "Don't worry about anything other than Quinn, okay? Do you need me to call someone? Kurt, maybe? Santana?"
Rachel tenses at the mention of them, and she feels inexcusably guilty that she hasn't even thought of them until Frankie brought their names into the conversation. "No," she says. "I should call myself. Thank you, though."
"Of course," he says. "Let us know how she's doing, and if you need anything."
"Okay," she says. "Thank you."
When Frankie hangs up, Rachel needs a few seconds to gather the courage to call Santana. It's Monday afternoon, and she knows the Latina has a laboratory practical, but she's sure Santana will be more angry if she didn't call.
"This better be good," is Santana's greeting. "I just ducked out of an important explanation."
Rachel closes her eyes. "Quinn is at Mount Sinai," she says, and Santana sucks in a sharp breath. "I'm not sure exactly what's wrong, but she got injured yesterday, and I found her unconscious when I went to check on her."
Santana is silent for a beat. Then: "I'm coming."
And that's that.
Rachel calls Kurt next, and he grumbles about having to leave a meeting, so it had better be important. Rachel can't help thinking that her friends are all the same. She imagines that Quinn would have answered similarly.
She explains the situation to Kurt, who immediately starts asking questions. She can hear him moving around, saying things to other people, as she goes into detail as best she can.
"Okay," he says. "Okay, I'm going to get a hold of Blaine, and then we're going to come, okay?"
"Okay."
"Hang tight."
"I will."
"Take care of our favourite blonde."
"I promise."
It's serious, but not too serious.
Santana makes the distinction based on the fact that Judy Fabray probably doesn't have to fly out to New York to see her daughter.
Quinn will recover, but she's going to be in pain for quite some time. The impact caused more damage than first appeared, and Quinn must have lost feeling in her lower extremities while she was asleep.
Rachel buries her face in her hands when she imagines Quinn waking up to that, alone. She should have stayed, or she should have checked on her earlier. There are a handful of things she could have done differently, but she knows Quinn wouldn't stand for her beating herself up about it.
Quinn.
Stupid, stubborn, idiotic Quinn.
"I swear, when she's better, I'm going to kick the shit out of her," Santana declares and, really, she's going to have to get in line.
Though, Rachel doesn't think she could ever actually harm a single hair on Quinn's precious head. All Rachel does know is that, if ever Santana finds out what really happened while they were playing frisbee, then Megan Porter better find that place where Julia Fairchild is hiding, and stay there.
"Did they say when we can see her?" Kurt asks, his eyes on Rachel. The doctors have been speaking mainly to her, as Quinn's 'partner,' and she's feeling a little overwhelmed by it all.
"As soon as they get her settled in her room, they'll let us know," she says.
Kurt's features soften. "How are you doing, Sweetie?"
Rachel isn't sure how to respond to that question. It sounds heavy and, really, all she wants is to lay eyes on Quinn. "Kurt?"
"Hmm?"
"Is it weird that I find myself missing her?"
He smiles sadly. "I don't think it's weird at all," he informs her. "Blaine can be in the other room and I miss him."
Her brow furrows. "But you and Blaine are…" she trails off. "Oh."
And, really, there's nothing more for Kurt to say.