Well… Um… Hi.

A/N 1: I don't own Glee in any way shape or form… And at this point I don't think I WANT to own it. I doubt it'd be salvageable… But that's a rant for another time.

A/N 2: Huge shout out to 'thatdamnyank' for keeping on pushing me until I FINALLY got into writing mode again. Also to 'suckmypiercing' for helping me and letting me bounce ideas off of them. Y'all are amazing.

The next morning found Arizona heading for Rachel's room, her shift having just ended, hoping to broach the idea of another form of treatment for the woman. Knowing the hours of a soldier, she wasn't surprised to find the brunette awake at such an early hour, despite her injuries taking their toll on her body. Knocking on the door frame to catch her attention, the pediatrician walked over to the side of the bed, crossing her arms and looking over the vet's vitals, delaying what she was pretty sure would be a somewhat arduous conversation. Hearing Rachel sigh, she bit her lip and turned to look at her.

"Have you considered seeing a therapist? I'm sure you had to see one before you were discharged, but have you looked into a possible session with one since then?"

Rachel blinked a few times, looking up and then around the room, bringing a hand up to rub at her face before nodding minimally. "I've thought about it, yes."

The reply surprised Arizona, granted she didn't know Rachel Berry very well at all, having just met her, but she expected the ex-soldier to close off at the suggestion of finding help.

"What's stopped you?"

A small chuckle was given in reply, though it lacked humor. "What stops most people? Pride, procrastination, feeling you don't deserve help." Rachel held up a hand, stopping the doctor, who'd opened her mouth to speak. Neither woman noticed that another blonde had stopped just outside the doorway. "Going to therapy would bring up memories of my childhood that I'd rather leave behind as well."

"Rae, if you're refusing psychological help just because it'll remind you about when you were the bottom of the high school social heap, then you are being ridiculous."

Rachel's eyes shot to the doorway, locking with her girlfriend's.

"No, Quinn, I'm not refusing because it will remind me of the many slushies, dumpster tosses, insulting names and bodily harm I received throughout my life in Lima. I am not taking the route of therapy because I am no longer a child and have learned how to handle my situations myself."

"You obviously haven't."

Rachel narrowed her brown eyes at Quinn.

"Rach, think about it, you're having nightmares that leave you a crying mess. You smoke now when you're stressed and you tried to ki-"

"Quinn, stop." Rachel held up a hand, her eyebrows furrowing into a frown. "First off, I am perfectly aware of what I have done and your last point only solidifies mine, because it was a long time back and I moved on and picked myself back up."

"Yes Rachel, with the help of Kurt and by focusing your energy on Changed Directions, you've focused your attention on something else, but you never actually dealt with it. You didn't talk it through or figure your shit out, you just left it to fester."

"Don't you dare try and psychoanalyze me, Fabray. You, of all people should know better than to-" Rachel cut herself off, inhaling sharply and placing a hand on her side, eyes clenching shut.

Both blondes moved to the bed, one on either side. Quinn used one hand to take hold of one of Rachel's and the other to brush away some dark brown hair from the woman's forehead, also soothing away the pain and frustration induced wrinkles.

"I think it might be best if we leave this subject for another time, when tensing won't cause severe pain, okay?" Arizona smiled when she received nods from both women. "Wonderful. Now Rachel, I'm recommending that you stay in the hospital for another day, just to let your ribs set a bit further before you try moving around too much. And when I say recommending, I mean insisting."

Rachel rolled her eyes, earning a tug at her hair from her girlfriend along with a raised eyebrow. Sighing, she nodded in consent, earning another smile from the doctor, this one a bit more smug. The resuming of long fingers running through her hair caused Rachel's eyes to shut once again, this time in contentment, so she missed Quinn returning Arizona's smile with an equally smug one of her own.

Rachel's eyes reopened as a sudden realization hit her and she pushed herself upright, flinching slightly as she did so. "Wait, I need to figure out something for the club then. Cause I can't be there tonight and there's already been one night of only DJ music, any more than that is completely unacceptable. Quinn, can you grab my phone?" She turned to look at the photographer, finally noticing that her posture had stiffened and she looked slightly guilty. "Quinn," a dark eyebrow quirked upwards, "why do you look like you've neglected to tell me something?"

Swallowing, Quinn pulled away and crossed her arms over her stomach. "Um, just... See, Kurt and Puck knew you'd be less than pleased about not being able to perform until your ribs healed, mostly because there would be a lack in live music. So, they called in a favor on your behalf."

Rachel crossed her arms, her other eyebrow raising to join its twin. "And just what does this favor entail?"


Kurt, Puck and the Unholy Trinity were seated in a large booth inside the, now empty, club, sipping at a few drinks that Puck had mixed up. The night had been rather calm, much to the relief of the group. More than a few people had asked where "the boss" was, to which they'd been answered with a "she's out of commission for a few days."

"Alright," Puck spoke up, setting down his glass. "We need to figure out what the hell to do while the boss is handicapped, because she's totally gonna flip shit if this place doesn't have live music goin' on in the meantime."

"How the hell are you going to get something steady to perform for the club so last minute?" Santana asked.

No one spoke up to answer the question for a solid eight minutes, until Kurt suddenly sat forward, moving away from where he was cuddled into his boyfriend's side, much to the mohawked man's displeasure, and pulling out his phone.

"I've got an idea." The phone was at his ear and his hand was up to silence them before another word could be spoken.

Brittany turned her head towards Quinn and Santana. "He does realize it's almost four AM, right?" She murmured. "Who's still up at four AM?" Both women shrugged in response.

"Hey, hello. Oh sorry, did I wake you up?" The male diva didn't sound apologetic in the slightest. "Anyways," he cut off the voice his companions could just barely hear coming from the phone speaker, fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. "I'm calling to cash in that favor you owe Rachel." His fingers ceased their movement, lip quirking up in a small smirk. "Well," he drawled, "how fast can you get to New York City?"


Rachel's face remained impassive through Quinn's retelling of last night's events. When the blonde finished, she tilted her head to the side.

"So then, which favor ower did Kurt call?"

Right, so I dunno if anyone is even reading this fic anymore (with how long it takes me between updates)… I wouldn't blame y'all if no one is, but I hope you like this maybe and hopefully I maybe will be getting into posting more regularly (though I doubt it with my current college schedule and general failure in that department).

Reviews would be rather amazing.