Crash

The first thing she hears is Santana's voice. She's murmuring softly to someone and Quinn is confused because she doesn't remember inviting Santana over. And logically, if she invited Santana over, Brittany must be around too. How odd.

The first thing she sees is brightness. She's squinting, but the light is still dazzling. She can almost feel the bags under her eyes, and an odd pain throbbing on the left side of her body. It doesn't hurt, exactly, but it doesn't feel good either. She shifts on her bed and groans at the unidentifiable sensation.

She must have slept really weirdly, Quinn decides. Now her body is punishing her.

Wait. The talking has stopped. Where did Santana go? Blearily, Quinn blinks several times, bringing the room into focus. She sees two girls sitting up straight on mismatched chairs. Yes, Santana and Brittany, just as she – those are not her chairs. Those aren't her chairs and this isn't her nightstand and these aren't her walls. Panic spreads through Quinn's body and she struggles to sit up.

"Q?"

Quinn has to crane her up neck awkwardly to look at Brittany standing over her.

Hey, she tries to say. The word sticks in her throat and all she manages to produce is a hoarse noise. Silently, Brittany holds a cup of water to her face. She manages to take only two sips because swallowing hurts a lot more than it should. Brittany's eyes are shining.

"Quinn," she whimpers, unsteadily putting the cup back on the side table.

Oh. That's not a good kind of shining. Tears spill over and immediately Santana is by Brittany's side to wipe them away.

What is going on? Why is Quinn in this astonishingly ugly room?

"Quinn," Santana's voice is rougher than she's heard it in a while. She wants to understand why but the dull roar in her head is keeping her from thinking. "Do you remember what happened?"

Good grief, Quinn wants to say. You sound like something out of a really bad thriller where the main character got into a serious car cr-

Oh. Oh. Oh, Jesus.

Quinn's shuddering a little, or maybe that's Brittany, currently draped over her, hugging Quinn as best as she can in the awkward position. Quinn gingerly moves her hand to pat at Brittany's back. Santana puts a hand on her thigh, steadying her a little.

"You've woken up," Santana says softly. "On and off, these past three days."

Quinn's trying to listen to her friend, she really is. But memories are swirling around in her head and there's this awful sound of tearing metal and it's making her cringe.

"It's the first damn thing we heard when we got our cars; don't text and drive" Santana is still talking and glaring at her and it's so familiar Quinn could cry. In fact, her eyes are welling up right now. "Not the point."

It's not?

"It's not?" Brittany asks. God bless that girl, Quinn thinks fondly.

"Nope," Santana half-smiles at her girlfriend. She turns to face Quinn again, her usual mask of irritation and determination showing clearly on her face. It contrasts starkly with her blood-shot eyes. "The hobbit – um, Rachel – is going to be back soon, okay?" Almost as if she can sense Quinn's renewed interest in the conversation, Santana huffs and rolls her eyes. "She and your mom are downstairs getting a coffee or something, I don't remember properly." She waves her hand in the air. "Anyway, Berry's pretty damn broken up about your idiotic mistake. So broken up that she canceled her wedding to rush to your side all dramatically."

Santana looks at her expectantly. Quinn stares back, confused.

Brittany intervenes. "You can still have a chance, Quinn. You can tell her how you feel." Her voice is quiet but Quinn's ears are ringing.

Santana must see it because she rolls her eyes yet again. "Of course we noticed, Q. You're not the most subtle gay."

If Quinn didn't have IVs pumping painkillers into her, she would probably take offense to that.

"Shut up," she croaks, wincing at the sound of her own voice. Santana's eyes soften and her grip on Quinn's leg tightens. Brittany leans into Santana and -

"Quinn?" This new voice is hoarse, but unmistakable. Quinn's head snaps to her right almost before she really understands who is speaking. She sees a wide-eyed Rachel Berry standing at her doorway, coffee cup in hand.

"Hi," she rasps, attempting a smile. She stops as soon as she starts because it hurts.

Rachel's grip on her coffee cup is alarmingly loose. She's one second away from spilling the scalding liquid all over herself, Quinn thinks disapprovingly.

"Quinn?" Rachel asks again. Her brown eyes are watery and magnetic. Quinn is hypnotized. She only vaguely registers the gray sweats Rachel is wearing, and that only because she's not sure she's ever seen Rachel Berry wear sweats. Her hair is swept up into a low ponytail. By the time Quinn is able to stop staring at her, the brunette has covered the distance to the bed and her eyes are locked on Quinn, even as she answers Brittany's greeting.

"We'll go now," Brittany whispers, winking not-so-discreetly at Quinn. A hint of a smile turns up the corners of her mouth.

"Te quiero, hermana," Santana mutters, pulling Brittany away.

It's just the two of them now.

"Of course you chose to wake up for longer than five seconds the minute I'm not here," Rachel murmurs. Her trembling lips try to form a smile but she doesn't quite succeed, and she bows her head. Quinn eyes Rachel with concern.

Something in Quinn's heart twists when she hears a soft sob. Her hands itch to hold Rachel. Quinn Fabray gets what she wants, and so, mindful of the IV, she reaches for the brunette. Quinn brushes her right hand over Rachel's temple – the closest she can get without moving the rest of her body. The touch is feather-light but Rachel starts violently. After a second, Rachel smiles. It's a small one but Quinn doesn't really mind because Rachel has sandwiched Quinn's hand between hers and is pressing a kiss to it.

It's the first time Quinn's felt warm since she woke up.

Rachel giggles a little, casting a shy glance at Quinn. (The blonde doesn't find out until later that Rachel only laughed because Quinn's heart monitor had spiked at the contact.)

Rachel sits gingerly on the bed next to Quinn, still gripping her hand tightly. They look at each other for a while. Just look. Remembering, memorizing. Cherishing.

"Other hand's lonely," Quinn whispers.

Rachel's confused, Quinn can tell. So she twitches her other hand as a hint, and manages to muster a small smile when Rachel grabs her left hand. After that, it only seems natural for Rachel to lean in and, still smiling, kiss Quinn's forehead.

The immediate sense of peace dulls the pounding in her head. Rachel's lips are soft and her hair tickles the side of Quinn's face.

She has so many questions. How long has Quinn been in this hospital? Are Rachel and Finn still together? How bad are her injuries? Rachel would know. She fights a yawn. Rachel probably has a Powerpoint prepared to explain Quinn's medical records in detail.

"Are you getting tired?" Rachel murmurs. "It must be because of all the medications you're on."

No, she can't be tired. She still has so much to tell Rachel. She absolutely has to stay awake. So what if it's suddenly hard to keep her eyes open for longer than a second? She'll stay awake. She has to. Brittany will be so disappointed if Quinn doesn't manage to tell Rachel about the thing she has to tell Rachel about – another yawn cuts off her train of thought.

"It's okay," Rachel coos, rubbing soothing circles on the back of Quinn's hands with her thumbs. "I'll be here when you wake up."

In that hazy place before real sleep starts, Quinn hears Rachel start murmuring softly. Is she singing a song? But no, now she hears her mother's voice. She really should fight the medications and talk to her mom but it's okay.

After all, Rachel said she'd be here when Quinn wakes up.