A/N: Sorry for the long delay and thanks for you patience. Also big thanks to my beta Jade and all of you who keep reviewing even when I haven't posted in an age for giving me the kick up the bum to get going on this again. Please let me know what you think of it :).

Chapter Thirty: Sticking To The Heart Of It

"I can't believe you actually managed to stick your hands to your face. Is it me? Am I the problem? Do I just naturally attract idiots and morons or something?"

"Quinn, I do understand how much my momentary lapse in concentration is inconvenient for you but I can't sit up, or see anything and I'm scared if I blink I'll lose all of my eyelashes in one fell swoop so could you please go and get a teacher or the nurse or anyone at all who might help me."

"Hey, come on, don't cry. You don't have to make such a drama out of every little thing." Quinn hated it when Rachel was upset because she nearly always said the wrong thing and made it worse. "It's probably not even as bad as you think. Look, come here."

The half a baton dangling from her fingertip knocked the side of Rachel's head as Quinn gently tried to pry the hands from her face. After a few seconds of nothing, she pulled harder . . . and then harder still; which resulted in Rachel chanting "Ow ow ow ow ow! Stop!"

"Okay, it is as bad as you thought," Quinn admitted and sat back on her heels.

"Owwww!" Rachel yowled like an abandoned dog as she was pulled up into a sitting position by her face. "Why did you do that?"

Quinn didn't answer, shocked speechless by her own stupidity.

"We're going to have to call for help."

"We can't call for help."

"Why not?"

"Because for somebody to help us they would have to see us."

"I don't care! And I'm sorry if you do, but I'm more concerned with getting unstuck than I am with anyone wondering how we got stuck together in the first place!"

"But this is so embarrassing!"

"Thanks!" Rachel sounded close to tears again.

"Not because it's you I'm stuck to!" Although it wasn't a plus by any means. "It's just generally embarrassing to be stuck to anyone. Look, come on, we can get out of this ourselves."

"Really?"

"Really. We just have to stand up and then we can get out of here."

"Quinn I can't see anything!"

"But I can, and I'll make sure you're okay. Right, on the count of three . . ."

It took so many attempts they could have counted all the way up to thirty, but eventually they were both on their feet. Rachel's fast breaths tickled the underside her chin. They were that close but there was nothing Quinn could do about it. At least it meant her airways weren't being obstructed. Rachel's tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, which was trembling. It gave her a lurching feeling in her stomach that was a mix of upset and arousal. It was weird and she didn't like it.

"Hey, it really is going to be okay."

"Quinn, I can't see anything! What if the glue got in my eyes?"

"That's just because you have your hands stuck over your eyes." She hoped. "Do you have any peripheral vision?"

"Peripheral?" she asked like she'd never heard the word before. "Oh, I can see light! I can see benches . . . I can see . . ." Quinn tilted herself to the side. ". . . I can see you." Relief flooded Quinn. "I can see your smile."

"I can see yours too." She could also see the watch on Rachel's wrist and the time it told. "So, we have about fifteen minutes left to say goodbye to our dignity."

"I won't need that long, I said goodbye to most of mine already when I first realized I was stuck." Rachel admitted, smile growing. "What do we do now? Crab-walk to the nurse's office?"

She really didn't want to do that because of the shouting and grunting she could hear coming from the football field and the inside of school was just as perilous; faint strains of 'Proud Mary' with extra percussion sounds provided by the constant clashing of wheelchairs was a reminder that somewhere close by a Glee club rehearsal was going on without them. It made her in no hurry to leave the gym.

"We need to stay here where it's safe and . . .?" The Gym doors flew open; she'd spoken too soon. "Oh, crap."

"What? What?" Rachel had heard the bang of the doors. "Is everything okay?"

"Good Lord!"

"Not really."

"Is that . . .?"

"Yes." To Coach Sylvester she said, "It's not what it looks like."

"I find that hard to believe because It looks like you're both idiots!"

Quinn opened and closed her mouth; it was hard to argue against the obvious. "I guess."

Coach Sylvester stalked forward. "What did I tell you about the super glue?"

"It's not Quinn's fault." Rachel spoke up. "I stuck my hands to my face and Quinn was just trying to help."

"Do you have something to remove it, like an antidote?"

"Not anything I'd risk getting so close to Berry's eyes." She shook her head again. "If I take you to the hospital I have to fill in an accident form. A copy goes in my file, your files and your parents need to receive a copy. I don't want your stupidity on my record and I'm sure you don't want it on yours either." She cut Quinn a serious look. "So, I'm not taking you to the hospital."

"But how else are we supposed to get there? Quinn can't drive with me stuck to her like this!"

"Well maybe Q should have thought of that before she let herself get attached to you like a barnacle on the butt-cheek of the Titanic. Stay here, I don't want you tripping ungainly through the halls after me like a pair of conjoined twins."

Five minutes later Mr. Schuester arrived. "Wow, I thought Sue was joking."

"We had a bit of a glue-related accident," Rachel explained on hearing his voice.

"I see that," he chuckled.

"We need someone to drive us to the hospital to get separated," Quinn explained, "But it needs to be someone who doesn't feel the need to fill out an accident form."

"Didn't happen on my watch, not my form to fill in. Shall we, ladies?"

"Is everybody staring at us?"

It was hard to tell which way Rachel wanted the answer to go. "It's okay. I don't think anyone's informed the paparazzi that you're here yet."

"You might be making fun of me, but I'm not really the one who has to worry about a photo of us . . . nestled like this popping up on someone's Facebook page tonight."

"We are not nestled . . . what does that even mean."

Rachel's shrug made her elbows do a chicken-flap. "Well how would you describe this?"

While Mr. Schuester was filling out their admission forms for them (i.e.. Asking lots of personal questions that really couldn't have any bearing on the best course of treatment for getting superglued together) that the best way to hide their embarrassing predicament was to have Rachel lean her head on Quinn's shoulder. They both had to sit sideways in the plastic chairs to make the position at all comfortable and Rachel's knees had nowhere to go but between hers.

"Totally horrifying."

"I think it's nice," Rachel said softly, as if she didn't necessarily want to be heard.

Still, Quinn felt forced to hiss against her ear. "Shhh. Try and remember we're in a very public place."

"Nobody can hear us if we whisper."

The noise level in the room was disconcerting. Shouldn't it be more sombre? Hospital waiting rooms should be like church, respectfully silent apart from the mumble of prayer. Lima General's Emergency Room, however, was more like the aftermath of a big Cheerleading competition! People were talking on their cell-phones and shouting at the staff and playing on their PSP's and gossiping loudly with their friends and crying a lot and a few were throwing up and a few more had broken bones and there was some blood and . . . was that guy actually drinking something wrapped in a brown paper bag? Yes, it was almost exactly like last year's National's after party. The only difference was that now Quinn's hands were stuck to Rachel instead of a massive trophy.

It made sense, Quinn thought with a smile she hid in Rachel's hair; she was way more into this girl than she was cheerleading. She'd even managed to make Quinn feel like losing her place on the squad was a good thing, thanks to her belief in her.

"I'd still rather not take any chances. My dad is on the board here and one whisper reaching the wrong ear . . ."

"I understand. Does that mean we can't talk about anything, because you know, the art of silence isn't one of my many talents and . . ."

"I do know," Quinn said with a chuckle. "We could talk about school?"

"Boring. We don't share anything in school except for a desk in American Literature and I have no interest in hearing about all of the fun you have with Finn and Santana and the rest when I'm not allowed near you."

"Rachel . . ." Quinn sighed. "Fine, you pick something for us to talk about."

"If you could pick any romantic date scenario from a movie to go on, which one would it be?"

"Um." For some reason all she could think of was the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp! "Um. Does it have to be from a movie?"

"I'll accept plays and musicals too."

"What about TV?"

"Too broad a spectrum; I probably won't have watched it."

"You've watched 'Friends', everyone has watched . . . oh wait, Grease is a musical, right? I like the scene where Danny and Sandy go to the Drive-in and they make out in his car." She beamed at finally finding the right idea.

"I suppose you choosing that make sense, given the setting and the way it ends."

"What do you mean?"

"That you like making out with me in the back of your car and, well, the scene doesn't end very well, does it?"

Oh, she'd obviously forgotten that part.

Thankfully Mr. Shuester came back from handing their forms in at the desk and took the chair on the other side of Rachel so that he could speak to Quinn. "We're in luck. The glue being so near Rachel's eyes makes you guys a priority over the kid over there who super-glued his model airplane to his chin. You should be seen any minute."

An hour later Rachel was no longer wincing every time Quinn turned her wrist to see her watch because she'd dozed off on her shoulder.

The time was starting to worry her. It was five-thirty already and she couldn't be late home again. She needed to leave soon, or she was in trouble. Her Daddy's punishments varied depending on the level of his spirits at the time (pun unintended) but at the very least she'd be grounded – which meant no going out and no frivolous after school activities, which together added up to no Rachel at all.

But then she could hardly go home stuck to Rachel's face either!

"I have to be home in an hour, Mr. Schuester!" she hissed, so as not to wake Rachel but still get her point across. "I was tardy yesterday; my parents will kill me if I'm late again."

"Would you like me to call them and tell them what happened?"

"That I glued myself to Rachel Berry? Are you crazy?"

"But it was an accident, wasn't it?"

She rolled her eyes, "Of course it was, but my Dad doesn't believe there's such a thing as accidents, just incorrect behaviour. He'll want to know why I was in a position to get stuck like this in the first place."

"It's understandable that your parents will be upset that you got a detention, Quinn, but I'm sure once they realize you're in the hospital . . ."

"It's not the when, it's the who," she whispered.

"Your parent's have a problem with . . .?"

Her eyes ordered him to stop talking and he obeyed, as most did, immediately and she tilted her head to murmur against dark hair. "If I find out you're faking it right now to eavesdrop, I will never watch that boxset with you. So now would be a good time to rise and shine?"

Rachel didn't stir or do anything to indicate that her peaceful doze was a lie.

"My parents have a problem with a lot of people, Mr. Shuester, including but not limited to: several of my friends, the majority of my classmates, most of my father's colleagues, my mother's side of the family, the democratic party and every single homosexual on the planet."

"I see, and Rachel and her family . . .?

Quinn nodded. "Tick nearly every box on the list. They don't even like me being in the same Glee club as her. If they were to find out it was worse than that . . . that I'm actually . . . actually . . ." Staring blankly across the boisterous waiting room, she swallowed the lump in her throat. ". . . getting detentions because of her they'll have me transfer to St. Mary's before the week is out."

He looked around the waiting room, assessing how quickly things were moving, and then at his watch. "I can't lie to your parents, Quinn, but I might have an idea that helps us both."

"Like?"

He pulled his phone from his satchel with a grin that rang alarm bells. "You'll have to give me your Mom's number."

"Wait, I haven't agreed to anything yet! What are you going to say?"

"I'm going to give you an alibi."

She knew it was bad sense to agree to something without all the details – she had the proof of that growing inside of her – but what choice did she have? A teacher-sanctioned explanation was the only thing that had a chance of keeping her parents ignorant of current events. She recited her home number and then watched anxiously as he waited for the call to be picked up.

"Hello, Mrs. Fabray? . . . It's Mr. Schuester here, Quinn's Spanish teacher . . . Yes, I am her Glee director too, but that's not why I'm calling. I've been having some difficulty with some of my students' language capabilities and as Quinn is the best student I have I've asked her to help me . . . Exactly, to improve their Spanish before mid-terms. The thing is, it's an after-school session and . . ."

Quinn listened as he reeled out his plans for a sophomore Spanish tutoring group that ran for two hours every Tuesday and Wednesday; trying to ignore the way holding her arms up like this against Rachel's head was really starting to make them ache.

". . .I agree, Quinn does already have a lot of after-school commitments, but that's what makes her my ideal T.A. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what an influential young lady your daughter is with the other students, Mrs. Fabray and . . ."

Apparently, he was hoping she would be a key player in inspiring his less academically inclined kids to want to improve themselves. It was a clever sales pitch, especially for someone like her mom who thrived on compliments.

"Of course." He covered his phone to mutter, "I get the impression she thinks I'm doing something inappropriate with her only daughter."

Quinn smirked, "I'm not her only daughter, and you are. You're blackmailing me into being a Spanish tutor."

He grinned again. "If it makes you feel any better, I only feel a little proud of it."

Still smirking, she shook her hair back so that he could hold the phone to her ear. Rachel stirred at the movement and Quinn just hoped she wouldn't be roused enough to speak until this was over.

"Hi, Mom . . . It was sort of sprung on me last minute, but it counts as extra credit and being a tutor will look so good on my college apps." She went cold despite the heat of Rachel shifting sleepily against her when her Mom reminded her of her curfew. "I know, and I'll still be home by six-thirty if you want me to be, but this could be a really good opportunity . . . No, I understand . . . Oh . . . Really, are you sure? Won't Daddy be upset? . . . Seven-thirty tops, I promise." She couldn't cross her fingers so she really hoped that the ER staff would pull their fingers out soon. "Thanks, Mom . . . Yeah, bye."

"What did I miss?" Rachel asked groggily as Mr. Schuester put his phone away.

"Our beloved Glee director blackmailing me for an alibi."

"Oh." Rachel yawned, and then tried to pull her hands from her face. "Ow! I forgot. Isn't it our turn yet?"

"Soon, Gnome." She looked up at their teacher. "So, from what you said, I'm assuming this Spanish tutoring isn't a fantasy."

He shook his head, "Every Tuesday and Wednesday after Glee. It'll only be an hour though and I really could use your help."

She didn't answer because she didn't want to be tied down to this. That hour after Glee was time that could be spent with Finn, or Brittany and Santana, or, you know, Rachel.

Speaking of whom, "Is there any chance you can kneel on the floor for a while, Rachel? My arms are really starting to hurt."

"No. It's a hospital, Quinn, and I've no doubt rife with diseases." She was about to argue when Rachel continued, "Mr. Schuester, you can't expect Quinn to commit to bi-weekly Spanish tutoring. She has enough on her plate."

"I disagree. If Quinn has enough time to pretend to be sick in my class, I think she can make time to help me out after school."

"You figured that out, huh?" Quinn said sheepishly.

"I didn't have to, Sue told me when she explained your predicament. I gave you guys an excuse to spend time together with this week's Glee assignment, so, yes, I'm a little disappointed that you lied to me and skipped class."

She started to say sorry and Rachel began to refute his disappointment when a nurse called out loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub:

"Miss. Fabray and, uh Miss. . . .?"

"I'm here!" She jumped up to announce herself before the nurse could finish with that second damning name.

"Ow!"

"Sorry! Come on. You walk backwards so I can see where we're going."

And who was watching them go.

"So, how did this happen?" The intern doctor asked once she was seated on something long, flat and higher than Rachel was comfortable with when she couldn't see the ground.

"We were using this super strong super glue to repair some cheerleading batons and Rachel started laughing and put her hands over her face and . . . stuck. I tried to pull her hands away and . . . also stuck." Quinn explained shortly.

"I only started laughing because Quinn glued herself to a baton!" It had been knocking annoyingly against the side of her head for hours now.

"Do you know the make of the glue?"

"No," Quinn said.

Rachel realized they should have brought the tube with them. "You could call Coach Sylvester at McKinley High. It was her glue."

Quinn chuckled at something and then explained, "Our doctor looks terrified. Did you go to McKinley?"

"I graduated in 2003. I was on the squad Junior and Senior year."

"I feel your pain," Quinn sounded amused and Rachel hoped that meant she was finally over her bitter disappointment at being kicked off.

"So, I think we can figure this out without placing that call. Rachel, I'm going to push come gauze under your hands to protect your eyes, okay?"

"Okay. Protect them from what?"

"Acetone. It's a chemical solvent and, with any luck, should have you two separated in seconds."

"You don't look so sure," Quinn said, which didn't help Rachel's nerves any.

"I've never done this before."

"Then get someone who has!" she demanded.

"No one else is available right now."

"Then we'll wait! I'm not having someone who doesn't know what they're doing pour chemicals on my face!"

"We can't wait," Quinn said calmly. "Pack the gaps with gauze and then just dab the solvent over where our hands are stuck to start with."

"I was going to."

"Quinn please, I'm sure the doctor knows how to do her job." She wasn't sure of that at all, but the chaotic vibe she could sense in the emergency room was scary enough without the added worry of being treated by an inexperienced intern irritated by backseat doctoring.

The procedure didn't get any more pleasant after that. Gauze scraped across her eyeball. The pungent smell of the chemical reminded her of moulding bread, and she couldn't help but flinch every time specks of the cold liquid touched her cheek. Quinn murmured comforting assurances to ease her through it and it wasn't that long really before the weight on her hands was lifted and she realized Quinn was free.

"Are you okay?"

"My fingertips are red and sore, but I think so."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh. Just sit still for another minute and you'll be able to see for yourself."

Having the acetone applied to her own hands was even more scary, but she kept her eyes tightly shut behind the thick gauze squares and felt a flood of relief when she could wiggle her fingers again. The intern advised her to keep up the movement and finally her hands came loose without even any icky residue.

"You both have some mild burns from the strength of the glue. They'll heal up soon enough, but I'll get you some ointment to ease the discomfort and speed the process along."

"You look really bright." Rachel blinked her eyes to adjust to being out of the dark.

They were alone in the cubicle and Quinn was still standing close in front of her despite regaining her freedom. Rachel held herself still as her face was carefully inspected.

"You have some red patches but at least you still have most of your eyebrows." Quinn smiled and ran her fingertips lightly over the blemishes. It caused tingles that soothed the soreness and Rachel just wanted her to keep doing it. She also liked that the height of the bed was putting them at the same eye-level for once.

"I should be thankful for small mercies, I suppose," she said softly as Quinn's thumbs followed the path of her fingers.

They were at the same lip-level too.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her. "No."

"Why?" They were surrounded only by the dubious privacy of surgical blue curtains and the din of the emergency room was pressing against them, but they were, essentially, alone and out of sight. "No one can see us."

"I know. I just . . . I don't want you to."

Rachel tried not to be completely devastated by those gently spoken words because she knew they weren't true. Sitting up a little straighter she tried to be rational about this.

"I thought we were having a moment?" Quinn didn't answer. "So, you can kiss me, but I can't kiss you?" she asked, thinking back to the weekend.

Quinn didn't answer and when a hand slid up and over her shoulder Rachel almost batted it away from absently playing with her hair because she probably wasn't allowed to do that back either.

"Just staring at me isn't a valid response, Quinn."

"I'm just trying to think how I want to respond, Rachel." Snarkiness aside, that was a surprisingly honest reply and not the deflecting or downright dismissive one she had been expecting.

"Okay. Perhaps telling the truth would be a good start."

"Oh, you want the truth?" Quinn's smirk was a little alarming. "Then, yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I can kiss you whenever I want, and no it doesn't go both ways."

"Oh." She honestly didn't know what to do with that because on the one hand she didn't want to discourage Quinn from kissing her whenever she wanted but on the other it didn't seem very fair. So, she sat there, just staring at her with wide eyes until Quinn started chuckling. "You were joking?"

"No, I was telling the truth, but I know it's not actually reasonable to expect you to be okay with it."

Well, that was a relief. "So, would you be open to a compromise? Say, Monday to Thursday you can kiss me whenever you want and Friday to Sunday, I can kiss you whenever I want?"

The way Quinn looked at her . . . for a heartbeat Rachel thought she was going to say yes, but then she shook her head. She held Rachel's elbows and spoke very seriously.

"No, I think the compromise should be that I stop kissing you whenever I feel like it too. It just complicates an already complicated friendship, clearly, because friends don't usually have to have arguments about who shouldn't kiss whom."

"I think those friends are missing out."

"Maybe, but they also probably last longer as friends."

"I suspect that's only because friends who kiss eventually transition into something more."

"Which we can't do."

"We could."

She'd said that too hopefully, hadn't she? Quinn stepped back, breaking all contact between them and took a deep breath as if she was sucking in her temper.

"No."

"Quinn, please just . . .?"

"No. Let it go. We're not getting back together, and I already told you this friendship won't work if you can't accept that."

"I'm not the one who's been randomly kissing you," she muttered sullenly as she squirmed in a most undignified manner off the side of the high bed.

"I just apologized for that!"

"No, you didn't apologize, you just promised you wouldn't do it again, which is even worse than not apologising."

Quinn gave her a blank look. "You've lost me."

"Clearly."

With a smirk-like grimace of true irritation – Rachel had been the receptor of that expression a thousand times, although not recently – Quinn shook her head again and rocked onto her back foot. "This is why I didn't want to be your friend, Berry. You're so . . ."

"What? Honest about what I want? I don't personally see that as a character flaw."

"It is when we can't have what we want!"

We.

Her brain didn't really register that meaningful little word on a useful level though, not when she was annoyed.

"So maybe you were right all along, and we can't be friends. Congratulations on another victory over me, Quinn!"

"You think I see this as a victory?"

The curtain was pulled aside with a clatter of plastic rings and the intern was with them again.

"You two do realize that you're shouting in here, right? And these—"she waggled the curtain in her hand "—not sound-proof."

Rachel had forgotten where they even were, a common problem when her world always narrowed to just-Quinn whenever they were having any kind of heated exchange.

Quinn looked horrified, however, cheeks nearing scarlet as she took a less than subtle step away from her and rushed to say, "It's not what it sounded like!"

"Sounded like best friends having a row about something that I could care less about but you should keep it down anyway because there's people trying not to die out there and they don't need your drama on top of that." She pulled the curtain closed behind her and handed Rachel a small tub of Sudocreme. "Use that on your sore places for a couple of days and you'll be as good as new."

"Can I use it on my heart?"

"Rachel!"

The hiss of her name almost made her laugh, except it wasn't funny. Once again, they'd gone from better-than-ever to worse-as-can-be in a matter of minutes and, really, with highs this high and lows this low, it was no wonder she was exhausted with the whole thing. It was enough to make not pursuing a friendship with Quinn almost attractive.

She was using the shiny surface of the medical instrument tray as a mirror to apply the thick cream to her cheeks and not really listening to what the intern was saying to Quinn until she heard her, well ex-friend now maybe, quietly ask a question,

"I don't know if this is a stupid or not, but I'm, uh, pregnant. Could the glue have hurt . . . it?"

Whether it was a stupid question or not the intern was very professional about it. "Did you ingest any of the adhesive?"

Rachel knew it was childish, but . . . "No, I never actually made her desperate enough to suck on the tube."

Instead of the yelling she expected Quinn just sounded upset when she said, "You are now!"

Which shut her up and made her hate herself a little and perhaps Quinn a little more for making this all her fault.

The intern stayed on task, ignoring their outbursts. "That glue was very strong but despite how long you were stuck together it's unlikely enough was absorbed through your skin to affect your bloodstream."

"So . . . it'll be okay?"

"What about the stress?" Rachel said, because it didn't look as though the intern was going to think of it.

"A thing you give me way too much of?" Quinn said, parodying Jeopardy with a heightened level of snark.

"You've been extremely stressed out since even before you glued yourself to me." She capped the tub of cream and look up at the intern. "Can't an elevated heart-rate for an increased period of time be detrimental to a foetus?"

"It can be, but . . ." the intern hemmed and hawed for so long that Quinn began to look panicky. Rachel hadn't meant to cause Quinn more distress, she'd just really thought it should be mentioned. Quinn was barely out of her first trimester and everyone knew – or at least she did thanks to her research – that you had to be extra vigilant for the first few months. It reminded her she had to make that info pack for Finn tonight. She tried not to feel resentful about it, because he really should know all this too for Quinn's sake.

"Is there something you can do?" Quinn asked.

"I-I'm sure your baby's fine— "Rachel rolled her eyes, the hesitation was hardly going to boost Quinn's confidence. "But why don't you hop up onto the bed and we'll check. Um, I'll be back in a minute."

She disappeared again and Rachel closed the gap she'd left in the curtain as Quinn climbed onto the bed behind her.

She stayed hovering by it as she said, "Perhaps I should wait outside, to-to give you some privacy."

"Do what you want," was snapped at her, and so she did. Moving back to the bedside she took a seat on the grey plastic chair beside it. "Rachel!"

"I think it would be prudent to wait in silence, Quinn, so as not to add to your current stress levels."

Surprisingly Quinn complied and they waited out what was closer to five minutes in an uncomfortable quiet.

The intern returned with an older woman with short, dark blonde hair who apparently knew the mother-to-be. "Hello, Quinn, nice to see you again."

Quinn glanced at Rachel before looking back at the doctor. "I didn't know you worked here, Doctor Chin."

"I do two days a week at the hospital. So Dr. Kathene tells me you've been under a lot of stress recently. I'm sure you and your daughter are both fine, but let's take a look, shall we?"

"Please."

"No cheerleading uniform today?"

How was pointing that out helpful? "I don't think her doctor is supposed to add to her stress."

"Rachel, it's fine," Quinn said sternly. "No, I quit. It didn't mesh with the pregnancy, you know?"

"Well, I think that was a wise decision," the doctor said sincerely as she fiddled with the equipment the intern had wheeled in with her. "You're going to have to shimmy your dress up over your stomach."

"Oh . . . Right, I, uh . . ." she glanced at Rachel.

Why was she looking at her like t? What was the big deal? She'd seen Quinn's stomach before, even since she'd started showing so . . . and then it hit her, Quinn shimmying up her dress wasn't just going to show off her stomach.

"Oh! That's okay, I can . . ." She was already turning away in her seat when Quinn forced out a chuckle.

"Don't be silly, we're both girls."

It wasn't Quinn's greatest performance of her life, but Rachel suspected it didn't matter because neither the intern nor the doctor seemed to care about their teen drama enough to analyse it. Quinn quickly pulled up her dress with as little fuss as possible and Rachel's mouth went dry at the little flash of sunshine-yellow panties she saw before hastily averting her eyes for the sake of both their sanities.

Quinn flinched when the jelly was squeezed onto her bare skin and Rachel sat forward. "Does it hurt?"

She looked down at the gloop on her stomach and then back up at the ceiling. "No. It just feels cold and gross."

WAP-WAP-WAP-WAP. The strange sound filled the cubicle.

"Well that was easy." Dr. Chin smiled at the small computer monitor on the other side of the bed. "She's obviously feeling sociable today."

Rachel stared slack-jawed at the grainy black and white image of the inside of Quinn's small bump. "That's the baby," she said after a moment, which was a stupid thing to say but . . .

Distantly she heard Dr. Chin say, "The heartbeat's strong. Fingers and—" the image blurred as she moved the wand. "—toes are coming along nicely."

"Can someone explain to me exactly what I'm looking at here, please?" she asked when she'd found her voice again.

"It's a baby, Berry."

Rachel ignored that and looked to the intern instead, who seemed eager to rise to the challenge.

Her finger traced the image as she said, "This is the head. You can just make out the nose from this angle, see? And her body, that's an arm sticking out there. And two legs, long for this stage of development," she looked at Dr. Chin for validation and received a nod. "You should get her into Karate classes early, she'll be a natural."

"Pfft, with legs like that she's taking dance classes," Rachel said instinctively, still staring googly-eyed at the screen and not thinking about how her comment could be interpreted.

"Everything's fine, Quinn, as you can see. So . . ." Dr. Chin was saying.

Quinn wasn't listening, "Rachel?"

"She's beautiful, Quinn."

"Rachel."

"Look! You can actually see her fingers. Is she waving at me?"

"Shit."

"She has your perfect nose."

"I hope not," Quinn muttered, and then louder asked, "I know we're taking up valuable bed space but as I'm sure I'm paying for it by the minute could we please have a few of those minutes alone?"

It took maybe half a minute for Rachel to realize they were alone, and that Quinn was now holding the ultrasound wand to her own stomach.

"This is amazing, Quinn."

"I know."

"Thank you for letting me see her."

"I'm thinking that was a bad idea."

Rachel dragged her eyes from the screen to meet Quinn's and then chuckled as she nodded, because yes, it probably was. So was standing from the chair and boosting back onto the bed to lay beside Quinn, head tucked into her shoulder as she watched the screen again.

"I feel an irrepressible need to be close to your right now, sorry," she explained.

Quinn just 'Mmm'd in reply and moved the wand over her stomach. The picture flickered again before clearing with a slightly different angle of the baby.

In what Rachel recognised as a moment of unwanted vulnerability, Quinn murmured, "Sometimes I think about keeping her."

"I'd be there if you did," she whispered, "In whatever way you needed me to be. As a friend, or a baby-sitter, or . . . anything more or less that you wanted."

"I know." They watched the screen in silence for a few moments. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Me too."

The gritty image of the baby disintegrated into static and Rachel looked from the screen to see the wand had been dropped on the bed. Frowning, she tilted her head to plaintively ask why and was met by Quinn's hand sliding into her hair and pulling her up to meet her lips.