Fic: Lucky (5/?)
Title: Lucky
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for themes.
Spoilers: Up to "Mattress," sort of. It's AU in that Quinn had a pregnancy scare, but wasn't really pregnant.
Summary: An attempt at this prompt.
WARNINGS: Cancer, Character Death.
A/N: Since it'll likely be a few days before I can post again, I'll throw this one up now - two chapters in two days! Woot! :P
"Never pay the Reaper with love only"
Surprise. If she’d thought that the pronouncement of the nest of dark cells in her brain had come out of the blue, it had nothing at all on saying Rachel’s name as she lay in post-coital bliss with her boyfriend. It was fortunate for her sake, she thought, that he’d already been nearly asleep and hadn’t noticed. Why, of all the names in all the world, would she have said Rachel’s? She lay awake, Finn curled up against her, staring at the ceiling.
Despite her father’s unstated but undoubted preference that she remain ignorant of the larger world, she understood homosexuality - but she’d never so much as looked at another girl - had she? Certainly she’d watched Santana and Brittany make out since middle school, and always felt a pang of jealousy - but that was jealousy of their obvious love for each other, not because she wanted to sleep with either of them. She’d slept with Puck, and Finn, and enjoyed it - well, with Finn, at least. When she’d pictured her future wedding, back in the days before her terminal sentence was pronounced, it was to a tall man with strong arms and broad shoulders. She tried, idly, to picture herself kissing a girl - and could summon up nothing but a hazy imagining of what that might look like.
And Rachel? Really? The only pleasant interactions they’d had since they met were in Glee Club, and the time Rachel had spent coaching her for her solo. Prior to that, they’d only fought - or, more accurately, Quinn had bullied her. But, thinking back, hadn’t there always been a strange sensation, low in her abdomen, when she had Rachel pushed up against a locker and the two of them were nose to nose? Could that - she sat bolt upright in bed, ignoring Finn’s sleepy mumble of protest. That feeling wasn’t - it couldn’t be - want, desire. But then, if it wasn’t, how and why had Rachel’s name slid so easily off her tongue when her mental barriers were at their lowest? She got up from her bed and began to pace. The thought had taken root in her brain now, and she needed to excise it, to be sure it wasn’t true. There was only one way she could do that, she decided.
And that was what led her, on Monday morning, to the bathroom nearest the choir room. She’d seen Rachel duck into it moments before, and she was gratified to find they were alone when she entered. She blocked the door behind her, ensuring their privacy, and stepped into Rachel’s personal space as she washed her hands. “Berry,” she snapped, feeling her old in-charge personality take over, “we’re going to talk now.”
“In case you weren’t watching when I made it clear to Santana, I won’t be pressured into talking to you, Quinn. I really wish that you would just let this go, and we could-” whatever she was about to say next was cut off when Quinn stepped closer, grabbed her head with both hands, and kissed her.
It was like a thunderbolt from heaven, was all Quinn could think. Rachel’s lips were soft and pliant, tasting faintly of cola-flavored lip gloss. She was impossibly warm and sweet, and her perfume was strong and intoxicating. Quinn broke the kiss with a gasp and stepped back, immediately feeling the absence of those lips against her own. Rachel’s hand came up, and Quinn braced for a slap, but it fell back to her side as she leaned against the sink for support. “Oh, oh, oh,” she was whispering over and over, more to herself than to Quinn.
Quinn’s breath came in short gasps, and she weaved as she tried to regain her equilibrium - the world seemed to be tilting beneath her. “I - oh, God. Rachel, I’m sorry, I should never have - I didn’t mean to make you. That’s so wrong of me, and I’m sorry, I don’t even know - what does - am I-” she was nearly hysterical, and Rachel put a warm hand on her bare arm, making sure that she was looking Quinn in the eyes before she spoke.
“It’s okay, just breathe,” Rachel prompted. “Slowly, okay? In, out, in, out,” she waited as Quinn struggled to regulate her breathing, only speaking again when she was sure the other girl wouldn’t pass out. “I guess we do need to talk after all. But not here.”
“Where?”
“I’ll buy you a coffee.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The coffees sat untouched, and for an immeasurable time they simply looked at each other, until Rachel finally coughed and broke the silence. “So.”
“So,” Quinn parroted.
“Before we begin talking, I need to ask you something, so I know where we’re approaching this from. What did you feel when you kissed me? If, that is, you felt anything at all.”
“It,” Quinn thought for a moment, and Rachel sat back and calmly let her. “It was like fireworks. That’s the best I can come up with. Like someone set a bomb off. Does that make any sense at all?” she looked helplessly across the table.
“It does,” Rachel smiled. “Now we know where we stand.”
“Do we? But you’re not - are you, uh - I mean, are you - but you were chasing Finn earlier this year, weren’t you? Did I imagine that?”
“I’m bisexual, Quinn.” She saw the confused look on Quinn’s face, and smiled gently. “I like both. Like Santana.”
“Oh.” Quinn knew Santana had slept with both genders, of course - they had no secrets from each other, not any more - but had never realized there was a name for that, and now felt rather stupid for not knowing. “Wait - does that mean I’m-“
Rachel laid a hand on hers. “It was just a kiss, Quinn. You don’t need to slap a label on yourself fifteen minutes after you kissed me, okay? We’re just talking.”
“Right,” Quinn agreed. And then understanding slammed into her racing mind like a freight train, and she paled. “Wait - have you been avoiding me lately because you-” she trailed off, gesturing.
“Like you? Yeah.”
“But-“
“I’ll tell you everything, I promise. But I want to start at the beginning. Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
Rachel took a sip of her coffee, settling into her chair - but never letting go of Quinn’s hand. “Do you remember first grade?” she asked.
“Uh - vague flashes, I guess.”
“Do you remember the day you fell off the top of the slide and cut your head?”
Quinn smiled. “Actually, I do. Santana brought me a band-aid and a popsicle from her lunch to make me feel better.”
“She got those from me, actually.”
“What? I never even talked to you in first grade, did I?”
“No,” Rachel shook her head. “But I wanted so badly to be friends with you. You were pretty, and smart, and you seemed so nice. And I was shy - so when you fell, I gave Santana the band-aid and the popsicle and told her to say they were from me. But she didn’t,” Rachel sighed. “And that moment changed everything. I never got the chance to be your friend. And we grew up, and for all of our lives you hated me.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn stifled a sob. “God, I’m so sorry for everything.”
Rachel’s eyes shone, and she took both of her hands and squeezed them hard. “No, please don’t cry, I’m sorry - I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I’m just trying to explain. I never got to be your friend, and more importantly I never got to be with you. We should have been friends, Quinn, we - we should have been so much more than friends. And then you stood up in Glee that day and told everyone you were dying, and it was like someone tore me in two and the better half was lost forever. I saw,” she was barely keeping her composure now, “I saw everything that we could have been disappear in front of me, and I saw that you’d never know,” she lost it, then, and began to sob.
“Why didn’t you say something? Why avoid me, and kick Santana, and-“
“Because I couldn’t!” Rachel cried. “You only have six months, and it wasn’t fair of me to come between you and Finn, the two of you were happy! And you - you’d never shown the slightest bit of interest in girls! If I’d come to you and said I loved you, you would have ran! And then I’d never have seen you again! And Santana tried to force me, and I didn’t want to say any of this in front of them, you know?” she reclaimed one of her hands and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Quinn, I have to ask you - why did you kiss me today?”
“I slept with Finn after Sectionals. It was nice-“
“I really don’t want to hear about this-“
“I’m getting there. And afterward, he told me he loved me. And I - I said back to him ‘I love you, Rachel.’”
Rachel’s mouth formed a silent O.
“And I’m trying to understand why. When I kissed you this morning, it - I’ve never felt anything like that before. Kissing Finn was nice, and I enjoyed - well, you know, the other stuff, too - but it didn’t feel anything like that. And I want to understand. I have to - I need you to help me.”
“Quinn - listen. This doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. We can both pretend it didn’t happen. You have Finn, and he loves you-“
“And I don’t want to hurt him!” Quinn begged. “But, I - I can’t - this is - fuck!” she slammed her hand on the table, wincing. “I can’t just walk away from this - whatever it is. I need you, Rachel, I can’t have you avoiding me for the rest of my life, and I can’t die without kissing you again. Please tell me I won’t have to - please.”
“You won’t,” Rachel promised, teary-eyed. “I’ll kiss you anytime you want. But I won’t ever pressure you for more than that, okay? I - knowing that you’ll be my friend, that’s enough.”
“I don’t know if it is, for me,” Quinn argued softly. “But thank you, for letting me figure this out. I just - I have to think, okay?. Will,” her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Will you hang out with me at Santana’s tonight? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to, I won’t be mad if you still want to stay away-“
“Quinn Fabray,” Rachel pulled her into a hug, “from now on you’ll need a prybar to get me away from you.”
“And you won’t slap me anymore?”
“No,” Rachel’s laugh was choked with tears. “I’m sorry - when you said, right to my face like that, that you were dying, I just - I kind of lost it. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay,” Quinn promised. “I’ll keep you safe from Santana tonight, too.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I can’t believe you really brought the midget with you.”
“Be nice,” Quinn hissed. Something must have been easily readable on her face, because Santana didn’t smirk or make a snarky comment, she just nodded thoughtfully.
“Done.” She turned to the door. “Come on in, Ber - Rachel.”
“Thank you - you have a very nice home.”
“Benefits of a doctor dad. That and all the morphine I can inject into myself.”
“What?”
“She’s kidding, Rachel.” They made their way into the living room, where Brittany waited with four small duck-shaped pieces of paper, each with a name on them.
“What are these, Brit?”
“Your name-tags!” she announced. “Santana said she always has a hard time calling Rachel by her actual name, so I thought this would make it easier!”
Santana coughed, turning a dull red. “Thanks, sweetheart,” she kissed Brittany’s cheek, taking the name tags and handing them out. Rachel put hers on, grinning at Quinn, who winked at her.
“So, what’s on the agenda for this evening?” Rachel clapped excitedly.
“I bought a Wii,” Santana nodded toward the TV. Anyone want to play bowling or something? We can play teams. That is, as long as you and Quinn don’t mind us kicking your ass.”
“Please,” Quinn snorted, “we slaughtered you at Jeopardy, after all.”
“You cheated, Q - you googled that shit on your phone.”
“No, you just suck.”
The competition was intense, but in the end Rachel and Quinn emerged the winners of their Wii Sports mini-tournament. They celebrated, laughing, but it wasn’t long afterward when Quinn grabbed at her head, staggering toward the couch.
“No,” she begged the universe, God, anyone else who might be listening. “No, please, not again, it’s only been a couple of days - it hurts so much.”
“Quinn?”
“Out of the way, Berry - she needs to get into bed.”
“I want Rachel,” Quinn forced out through gritted teeth, “if she doesn’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Rachel raced to her side. “What do I do?”
“I’ll help you,” Santana said. “We need to take her upstairs, get her clothes off. Get her into bed, and get a trash can for her to be sick in. If it’s like last time, she might be there for a couple of days.”
“When,” Rachel helped Quinn toward the stairs, “did this happen before?”
“It’s why she missed those couple of practices before Sectionals. She was in bed for two days - Finn stayed with her the whole time.”
“I’ll stay with her - I mean, if I can stay in your house.”
“She asked for you,” Santana was smoothing Quinn’s hair back and crying, trying not to show it. “If she wants you, Rachel, you can stay as long as you want. Whatever’s going to help her, it’s fine by me. You should know, though - this isn’t pretty, and it’s not fun. She cries, and she talks gibberish, and there’s nothing you can do to help her through it. Are you sure you can handle it?”
“I can,” Rachel promised.
“Will you both stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Quinn muttered. “There’ll be enough time for that later.”
“Sorry, Q. Come on, we’re going to the guest room. Straight ahead.” They stopped and helped her out of her clothes, Rachel averting her eyes when necessary, and into a nightgown that was slightly too short for her, and finally into the fluffy bed. Santana took a garbage can from the washroom and placed it near the bed. “Okay, I need to run to her house and get her pain pills. Can Brittany stay up here with you?”
“Of course.” The blonde cheerleader was sniffling and red-eyed when Santana brought her upstairs, and she molded herself to Rachel’s side as they sat vigil.
“R’chel?” Quinn slurred.
“I’m here.”
“Hold m’ hand?”
Rachel took it, and Quinn sighed. Brittany began to sob quietly - it was the first time Rachel had ever seen her cry, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. She pulled the girl closer with her free arm, and she cried into Rachel’s shoulder.
“It’s not fair,” she muttered.
“No, sweetheart, it’s not,” Rachel agreed.
“I’m not smart,” Brittany said sadly, stating it as a fact. “And I don’t understand - I thought smoking made cancer. Quinn’s never smoked. I tried to ask Santana about it, but she gets too sad, and she doesn’t answer me, so I don’t ask anymore.”
“No, sweetie, she hasn’t. But there are other things that can make cancer.”
“But,” Brittany struggled mightily for the words she wanted, “but why? Why does she hurt so much? She’s nice to me, even when everyone calls me stupid, and now she hurts all the time, and I don’t understand why!”
Rachel had kept her composure pretty well until then, but the simple question undid her, and she cried. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t think anyone knows. I think that’s just how life is sometimes. Nothing goes the way it should.”
“We’re trying to get her tickets to Disneyland,” Brittany stage-whispered. “It’s on her list. But it’s so much money. I don’t - she can’t die before we can get her to Disneyland, that wouldn’t be fair!”
“Her list?”
“Her list of buckets. She showed it to me, and I told Santana we should help her.”
“Do you know where it is, Brittany?”
“California,” Brittany looked proud.
“Huh? Oh, no - I mean her list. Do you know where her list is?”
“It’s in her purse, in her little book.”
“Could you get it for me?”
“Sure,” Brittany agreed, disappearing downstairs and returning with it. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, Brittany,” Rachel flipped through the list, her mind racing.
5.) Get a tattoo.
Author: cranberry_pi
Rating: R for themes.
Spoilers: Up to "Mattress," sort of. It's AU in that Quinn had a pregnancy scare, but wasn't really pregnant.
Summary: An attempt at this prompt.
WARNINGS: Cancer, Character Death.
A/N: Since it'll likely be a few days before I can post again, I'll throw this one up now - two chapters in two days! Woot! :P
"Never pay the Reaper with love only"
Surprise. If she’d thought that the pronouncement of the nest of dark cells in her brain had come out of the blue, it had nothing at all on saying Rachel’s name as she lay in post-coital bliss with her boyfriend. It was fortunate for her sake, she thought, that he’d already been nearly asleep and hadn’t noticed. Why, of all the names in all the world, would she have said Rachel’s? She lay awake, Finn curled up against her, staring at the ceiling.
Despite her father’s unstated but undoubted preference that she remain ignorant of the larger world, she understood homosexuality - but she’d never so much as looked at another girl - had she? Certainly she’d watched Santana and Brittany make out since middle school, and always felt a pang of jealousy - but that was jealousy of their obvious love for each other, not because she wanted to sleep with either of them. She’d slept with Puck, and Finn, and enjoyed it - well, with Finn, at least. When she’d pictured her future wedding, back in the days before her terminal sentence was pronounced, it was to a tall man with strong arms and broad shoulders. She tried, idly, to picture herself kissing a girl - and could summon up nothing but a hazy imagining of what that might look like.
And Rachel? Really? The only pleasant interactions they’d had since they met were in Glee Club, and the time Rachel had spent coaching her for her solo. Prior to that, they’d only fought - or, more accurately, Quinn had bullied her. But, thinking back, hadn’t there always been a strange sensation, low in her abdomen, when she had Rachel pushed up against a locker and the two of them were nose to nose? Could that - she sat bolt upright in bed, ignoring Finn’s sleepy mumble of protest. That feeling wasn’t - it couldn’t be - want, desire. But then, if it wasn’t, how and why had Rachel’s name slid so easily off her tongue when her mental barriers were at their lowest? She got up from her bed and began to pace. The thought had taken root in her brain now, and she needed to excise it, to be sure it wasn’t true. There was only one way she could do that, she decided.
And that was what led her, on Monday morning, to the bathroom nearest the choir room. She’d seen Rachel duck into it moments before, and she was gratified to find they were alone when she entered. She blocked the door behind her, ensuring their privacy, and stepped into Rachel’s personal space as she washed her hands. “Berry,” she snapped, feeling her old in-charge personality take over, “we’re going to talk now.”
“In case you weren’t watching when I made it clear to Santana, I won’t be pressured into talking to you, Quinn. I really wish that you would just let this go, and we could-” whatever she was about to say next was cut off when Quinn stepped closer, grabbed her head with both hands, and kissed her.
It was like a thunderbolt from heaven, was all Quinn could think. Rachel’s lips were soft and pliant, tasting faintly of cola-flavored lip gloss. She was impossibly warm and sweet, and her perfume was strong and intoxicating. Quinn broke the kiss with a gasp and stepped back, immediately feeling the absence of those lips against her own. Rachel’s hand came up, and Quinn braced for a slap, but it fell back to her side as she leaned against the sink for support. “Oh, oh, oh,” she was whispering over and over, more to herself than to Quinn.
Quinn’s breath came in short gasps, and she weaved as she tried to regain her equilibrium - the world seemed to be tilting beneath her. “I - oh, God. Rachel, I’m sorry, I should never have - I didn’t mean to make you. That’s so wrong of me, and I’m sorry, I don’t even know - what does - am I-” she was nearly hysterical, and Rachel put a warm hand on her bare arm, making sure that she was looking Quinn in the eyes before she spoke.
“It’s okay, just breathe,” Rachel prompted. “Slowly, okay? In, out, in, out,” she waited as Quinn struggled to regulate her breathing, only speaking again when she was sure the other girl wouldn’t pass out. “I guess we do need to talk after all. But not here.”
“Where?”
“I’ll buy you a coffee.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The coffees sat untouched, and for an immeasurable time they simply looked at each other, until Rachel finally coughed and broke the silence. “So.”
“So,” Quinn parroted.
“Before we begin talking, I need to ask you something, so I know where we’re approaching this from. What did you feel when you kissed me? If, that is, you felt anything at all.”
“It,” Quinn thought for a moment, and Rachel sat back and calmly let her. “It was like fireworks. That’s the best I can come up with. Like someone set a bomb off. Does that make any sense at all?” she looked helplessly across the table.
“It does,” Rachel smiled. “Now we know where we stand.”
“Do we? But you’re not - are you, uh - I mean, are you - but you were chasing Finn earlier this year, weren’t you? Did I imagine that?”
“I’m bisexual, Quinn.” She saw the confused look on Quinn’s face, and smiled gently. “I like both. Like Santana.”
“Oh.” Quinn knew Santana had slept with both genders, of course - they had no secrets from each other, not any more - but had never realized there was a name for that, and now felt rather stupid for not knowing. “Wait - does that mean I’m-“
Rachel laid a hand on hers. “It was just a kiss, Quinn. You don’t need to slap a label on yourself fifteen minutes after you kissed me, okay? We’re just talking.”
“Right,” Quinn agreed. And then understanding slammed into her racing mind like a freight train, and she paled. “Wait - have you been avoiding me lately because you-” she trailed off, gesturing.
“Like you? Yeah.”
“But-“
“I’ll tell you everything, I promise. But I want to start at the beginning. Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
Rachel took a sip of her coffee, settling into her chair - but never letting go of Quinn’s hand. “Do you remember first grade?” she asked.
“Uh - vague flashes, I guess.”
“Do you remember the day you fell off the top of the slide and cut your head?”
Quinn smiled. “Actually, I do. Santana brought me a band-aid and a popsicle from her lunch to make me feel better.”
“She got those from me, actually.”
“What? I never even talked to you in first grade, did I?”
“No,” Rachel shook her head. “But I wanted so badly to be friends with you. You were pretty, and smart, and you seemed so nice. And I was shy - so when you fell, I gave Santana the band-aid and the popsicle and told her to say they were from me. But she didn’t,” Rachel sighed. “And that moment changed everything. I never got the chance to be your friend. And we grew up, and for all of our lives you hated me.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn stifled a sob. “God, I’m so sorry for everything.”
Rachel’s eyes shone, and she took both of her hands and squeezed them hard. “No, please don’t cry, I’m sorry - I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I’m just trying to explain. I never got to be your friend, and more importantly I never got to be with you. We should have been friends, Quinn, we - we should have been so much more than friends. And then you stood up in Glee that day and told everyone you were dying, and it was like someone tore me in two and the better half was lost forever. I saw,” she was barely keeping her composure now, “I saw everything that we could have been disappear in front of me, and I saw that you’d never know,” she lost it, then, and began to sob.
“Why didn’t you say something? Why avoid me, and kick Santana, and-“
“Because I couldn’t!” Rachel cried. “You only have six months, and it wasn’t fair of me to come between you and Finn, the two of you were happy! And you - you’d never shown the slightest bit of interest in girls! If I’d come to you and said I loved you, you would have ran! And then I’d never have seen you again! And Santana tried to force me, and I didn’t want to say any of this in front of them, you know?” she reclaimed one of her hands and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Quinn, I have to ask you - why did you kiss me today?”
“I slept with Finn after Sectionals. It was nice-“
“I really don’t want to hear about this-“
“I’m getting there. And afterward, he told me he loved me. And I - I said back to him ‘I love you, Rachel.’”
Rachel’s mouth formed a silent O.
“And I’m trying to understand why. When I kissed you this morning, it - I’ve never felt anything like that before. Kissing Finn was nice, and I enjoyed - well, you know, the other stuff, too - but it didn’t feel anything like that. And I want to understand. I have to - I need you to help me.”
“Quinn - listen. This doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. We can both pretend it didn’t happen. You have Finn, and he loves you-“
“And I don’t want to hurt him!” Quinn begged. “But, I - I can’t - this is - fuck!” she slammed her hand on the table, wincing. “I can’t just walk away from this - whatever it is. I need you, Rachel, I can’t have you avoiding me for the rest of my life, and I can’t die without kissing you again. Please tell me I won’t have to - please.”
“You won’t,” Rachel promised, teary-eyed. “I’ll kiss you anytime you want. But I won’t ever pressure you for more than that, okay? I - knowing that you’ll be my friend, that’s enough.”
“I don’t know if it is, for me,” Quinn argued softly. “But thank you, for letting me figure this out. I just - I have to think, okay?. Will,” her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Will you hang out with me at Santana’s tonight? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to, I won’t be mad if you still want to stay away-“
“Quinn Fabray,” Rachel pulled her into a hug, “from now on you’ll need a prybar to get me away from you.”
“And you won’t slap me anymore?”
“No,” Rachel’s laugh was choked with tears. “I’m sorry - when you said, right to my face like that, that you were dying, I just - I kind of lost it. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay,” Quinn promised. “I’ll keep you safe from Santana tonight, too.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I can’t believe you really brought the midget with you.”
“Be nice,” Quinn hissed. Something must have been easily readable on her face, because Santana didn’t smirk or make a snarky comment, she just nodded thoughtfully.
“Done.” She turned to the door. “Come on in, Ber - Rachel.”
“Thank you - you have a very nice home.”
“Benefits of a doctor dad. That and all the morphine I can inject into myself.”
“What?”
“She’s kidding, Rachel.” They made their way into the living room, where Brittany waited with four small duck-shaped pieces of paper, each with a name on them.
“What are these, Brit?”
“Your name-tags!” she announced. “Santana said she always has a hard time calling Rachel by her actual name, so I thought this would make it easier!”
Santana coughed, turning a dull red. “Thanks, sweetheart,” she kissed Brittany’s cheek, taking the name tags and handing them out. Rachel put hers on, grinning at Quinn, who winked at her.
“So, what’s on the agenda for this evening?” Rachel clapped excitedly.
“I bought a Wii,” Santana nodded toward the TV. Anyone want to play bowling or something? We can play teams. That is, as long as you and Quinn don’t mind us kicking your ass.”
“Please,” Quinn snorted, “we slaughtered you at Jeopardy, after all.”
“You cheated, Q - you googled that shit on your phone.”
“No, you just suck.”
The competition was intense, but in the end Rachel and Quinn emerged the winners of their Wii Sports mini-tournament. They celebrated, laughing, but it wasn’t long afterward when Quinn grabbed at her head, staggering toward the couch.
“No,” she begged the universe, God, anyone else who might be listening. “No, please, not again, it’s only been a couple of days - it hurts so much.”
“Quinn?”
“Out of the way, Berry - she needs to get into bed.”
“I want Rachel,” Quinn forced out through gritted teeth, “if she doesn’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Rachel raced to her side. “What do I do?”
“I’ll help you,” Santana said. “We need to take her upstairs, get her clothes off. Get her into bed, and get a trash can for her to be sick in. If it’s like last time, she might be there for a couple of days.”
“When,” Rachel helped Quinn toward the stairs, “did this happen before?”
“It’s why she missed those couple of practices before Sectionals. She was in bed for two days - Finn stayed with her the whole time.”
“I’ll stay with her - I mean, if I can stay in your house.”
“She asked for you,” Santana was smoothing Quinn’s hair back and crying, trying not to show it. “If she wants you, Rachel, you can stay as long as you want. Whatever’s going to help her, it’s fine by me. You should know, though - this isn’t pretty, and it’s not fun. She cries, and she talks gibberish, and there’s nothing you can do to help her through it. Are you sure you can handle it?”
“I can,” Rachel promised.
“Will you both stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Quinn muttered. “There’ll be enough time for that later.”
“Sorry, Q. Come on, we’re going to the guest room. Straight ahead.” They stopped and helped her out of her clothes, Rachel averting her eyes when necessary, and into a nightgown that was slightly too short for her, and finally into the fluffy bed. Santana took a garbage can from the washroom and placed it near the bed. “Okay, I need to run to her house and get her pain pills. Can Brittany stay up here with you?”
“Of course.” The blonde cheerleader was sniffling and red-eyed when Santana brought her upstairs, and she molded herself to Rachel’s side as they sat vigil.
“R’chel?” Quinn slurred.
“I’m here.”
“Hold m’ hand?”
Rachel took it, and Quinn sighed. Brittany began to sob quietly - it was the first time Rachel had ever seen her cry, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. She pulled the girl closer with her free arm, and she cried into Rachel’s shoulder.
“It’s not fair,” she muttered.
“No, sweetheart, it’s not,” Rachel agreed.
“I’m not smart,” Brittany said sadly, stating it as a fact. “And I don’t understand - I thought smoking made cancer. Quinn’s never smoked. I tried to ask Santana about it, but she gets too sad, and she doesn’t answer me, so I don’t ask anymore.”
“No, sweetie, she hasn’t. But there are other things that can make cancer.”
“But,” Brittany struggled mightily for the words she wanted, “but why? Why does she hurt so much? She’s nice to me, even when everyone calls me stupid, and now she hurts all the time, and I don’t understand why!”
Rachel had kept her composure pretty well until then, but the simple question undid her, and she cried. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t think anyone knows. I think that’s just how life is sometimes. Nothing goes the way it should.”
“We’re trying to get her tickets to Disneyland,” Brittany stage-whispered. “It’s on her list. But it’s so much money. I don’t - she can’t die before we can get her to Disneyland, that wouldn’t be fair!”
“Her list?”
“Her list of buckets. She showed it to me, and I told Santana we should help her.”
“Do you know where it is, Brittany?”
“California,” Brittany looked proud.
“Huh? Oh, no - I mean her list. Do you know where her list is?”
“It’s in her purse, in her little book.”
“Could you get it for me?”
“Sure,” Brittany agreed, disappearing downstairs and returning with it. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, Brittany,” Rachel flipped through the list, her mind racing.
5.) Get a tattoo.