The Internet proved much more useful when it came to masturbation than it did when Quinn had looked up Rachel's medical condition. Videos, advice columns, blogs – the works popped up when it came time for that. It was a little embarrassing, and knowing Rachel did it was a little help, but Rachel was also pretty shameless overall. She tried it the same night, laptop at an angle from the protrusion of her stomach, but this time it was helpful. She wasn't exactly aroused and the videos made her cringe because some of those positions were so weird and so uncomfortable looking, she stuck to reading. Masturbation went a little better this time around, but she still felt awkward touching herself, especially with her swollen belly in the way and the baby kicking more frequently. She gave up altogether when she was close to a tingling feeling and what felt like a foot jabbed against her kidneys.
Gerard printed out the baby's ultrasound pictures and started a baby album. He'd decorated it himself with neutral tones and items; ducks, rattles, bottles, diapers, clothespins in their natural shades, nothing pastel, nothing overtly feminine or masculine. The book itself was black with white print, "Baby's First Album." He was certainly warming up to his role as Grandpa. There were pictures of her and Rachel from the birthday party, Rachel as a kid and toddler – he'd even dropped by when Russell was at work to see if Judy had a few pictures she was willing to part with temporarily, gaining some of Quinn as a chunky blonde baby, then an apple-cheeked toddler.
"You were cute," Rachel commented at the sight.
Quinn rolled her eyes, and received a small kiss to her cheek.
They laid together a lot of nights, just barely touching with her dads around, but it was enough, the tiny sensation of sparks everywhere. She wondered if she was becoming greedy, then decided that she'd always been greedy and was only now coming to accept that. And if she was greedy, the baby was worse.
Her stomach was constantly fluttering with what she was sure were somersaults, cartwheels, and judo tricks. Like their Mama, the baby seemed to soak up any and all attention as a good thing. Rachel seemed to think it was the most majestic thing in the world and Quinn felt like snapping that why didn't she go ahead and carry a child, but stopped herself. Rachel was just being nostalgic, she knew, especially since she'd found out that Rachel didn't have a uterus. She hadn't meant to, exactly, but they'd been in bed talking as they tended to and, somehow, they'd talked about names again. They still didn't have a set list but had determined that they'd prefer more masculine or feminine names instead of their current mix of androgynous names. It was probably from all the name-calling they'd gotten with their own names.
"Did you like anything from 'East of Eden' as a name?" Rachel had asked her, late one night, when they were cuddling in bed. "Or 'Grapes of Wrath' or anything else we've read?" Quinn's nose wrinkled as she thought. Most of the names were traditional, but more Christian-popular than plain popular. They'd read multiple books through her first two trimesters, and she'd entered her last trimester just a couple of weeks ago. She was in no way disenchanted with religion, was still an avid follower of her faith, but found that they were a little too currently in-fashion for her. They'd moved onto a new book, which had a vastly different format, and much more about Judaism than Protestant faith.
"Not 'East of Eden,'" Quinn told her. "But I like Asher a lot."
Rachel's thumb stroked the firm edge of her jawline, then her plush lip. Her finger stayed almost in place as Quinn continued, "If we have another baby, we might." And then she smiled, "But you have to carry it."
Her other's eyes dimmed slowly, and her thumb slipped down, to just under her mouth, the space before her chin started.
"I'm not capable of carrying a child," Rachel murmured. "My uterus never developed adequately and my pelvis is too small."
Quinn blinked, but nuzzled her face into Rachel's warm hand. "Sorry," She said.
Rachel constructed a smile that lacked her general sweetness, but none of her softness, "It's okay. You didn't know."
"I didn't ask." She was running her hands through Rachel's long hair, feeling the delicate texture, and she suddenly realized she knew very little about Rachel. She knew the same things that other people knew, for the most part, and so did Rachel. They had learned nothing new of each other in the months before this except for the fragility of humanity; that hunger consumed all.
Rachel melted under her hands, turned into putty, curled around her and fell asleep with her head on her chest. Feeling the flickering of long eyelashes and tender breath, she felt it come over her in a tidal wave, the thought that had always lingered in the back of her mind.
"I have to leave you," She whispered. For a moment, Rachel tensed, forehead creased, hands curled on her sides, as if she'd heard, and then she let it go, tucked into herself.
She made sure Rachel was asleep, tucked her in further, and padded out the room. She went to her room and laid on the bed, on top of the covers, and pressed her hands to her full stomach. It was too late at night for this, she just needed to sleep. This wouldn't be her only thought in the morning.
Of course, it was Quinn's only thought in the morning, as she made her bed, as she brushed her teeth, as she combed her hair. It was her only thought when it came to breakfast, the long drive to school.
I have to leave her.
She didn't tell anyone about it, feeling self-conscious of the thought.
It was February when she finally put it into action, and waited until the house was empty to call.
"Hello?" Came the familiar voice, the voice of her childhood. Memories and scents of scrapped knees and lax kisses and prayers and warm hands assailed her.
"Mom?" The word choked her, caught itself in her larynx, hung onto her ribs.
For a moment, there was no sound. Quinn was sure that she'd hung up when there were loud, heart wrenching sobs.
"Oh, mom," She sighed, then said, tears in her own eyes, "Mommy, stop, it's okay."
It took a long time for the sobs to stop and Quinn didn't take the phone away for a single moment, reveling in the sounds. "Quinn," Her mother finally cooed. "Baby."
She smiled, "Hi, Mom."
"Hi, baby."
She sat on her bed, "How're you?"
Judy was honest, "I miss you. I miss you very much, and I want to see what you look like now."
"I'm the same," Quinn argued, knowing she was lying.
Her mother's voice was soft, "No, you're not."
"I'm not," She affirmed. Then, "I'm six months. I'm due late April."
Her mother made a sound, turned into static by the phones.
"How are you feeling? Backaches, swollen feet, stretch marks?"
The blonde palmed her stomach, feeling the distended flesh. "Stretch marks, yes, backaches less so. Rachel takes good care of me."
"She seemed like a good girl," Judy commented. "We met briefly, and her father came to get those pictures." She hesitated, "He explained everything, her condition."
Quinn closed her eyes. That was going to make it hard, suddenly, that her mother liked Rachel.
"I have a confession to make," She said, in the lull of their conversation.
Her mother's voice was less than optimistic, "Oh?"
She swallowed, "After the baby's born, I want to live with the Colonel and Gram-Gram."
Judy's breath shuddered out, like something cold had slipped down her back.
"Are you sure?"
Quinn nodded, "She's going places, Mom. God, you should hear her sing, it's beautiful. She wants to be on Broadway and she has the talent but –"
"But a baby changes everything," Her mother finished. "That's true, sweetheart, but do you think leaving the state is best?"
She laughed, but it was hollow. "You've never met her. If I lived in Ohio, she'd come for me and the baby. I'd – she's so young, Mom. We're both really young. I don't want to do this, but I have to."
Judy countered, "The baby won't have a father."
"They won't be the first child, Mom," She argued.
"They'll be the first Fabray."
Her chest felt tight, "Mom. Please."
Another sigh. "I'll call your Gram-Gram tonight. She'll be thrilled, I'm sure. The Colonel will take a little longer, but I think that you should be fine."
Quinn replied, "They love me."
"We love you," Her mother said, emphatic and serious. Quinn pretended she hadn't heard the 'we' and said, "I love you, too."
They talked for a while after that. Her mother didn't speak about her father at all, which was she was grateful for, and they only hung up when Judy had to start making dinner.
She felt better, having spoken to her mother, having concrete plans for once in her life. It was still dark outside, but constantly getting lighter, becoming spring slowly but surely. She sat on her bed and started to braid her hair, the tactile sensation giving her something to cling to. She'd made tiny little plaits in her hair, like a pirate, when Rachel returned with Daddy and dramatically flung herself on the bed next to Quinn, immediately snuggling into her side.
Quinn kissed her forehead and Rachel moved her head so that they shared a small, soft kiss. She looked down at Rachel with sad eyes; she would miss these moments.
They were small and, in a way, unbearably lonely, but undeniably there.
Rachel flopped behind her and asked, faux casually, from behind her thick, pretty eyelashes, "What would you like to do for Valentine's Day tomorrow?"
Quinn frowned. She hadn't actually thought about it. There'd never been any significant attachment to Valentine's Day with her family, besides a customary dessert that was only for her parents, and the candy she'd always gotten in school. But Valentine's Day was on a Sunday that year, and there didn't seem to be much going on in the Berry household, so she said what she thought was a very safe answer, "I'd like to be with you."
Her safe answer just so happened to be true.
Rachel grinned at her, her face completely and utterly blinding in its innocent joy.
"Good," Said the brunette. And then, conspiratorially with a little smile, "Papa and Daddy are going out."
Quinn smiled back at her and puckered her mouth dramatically. Rachel's nose wrinkled, but kissed her lightly again. They traded little kisses back and forth, sweet presses of their lips, until they laid down together, giggling.
Jeremiah peeked in, wearing a pewter gray suit and a salmon tie, red and sandy hair brushed neatly for once. His eyes crinkled when he saw them and said, "Babes, we're leaving for dinner. There's money on the counter and there should be food in the fridge."
Rachel asked, in her same lounging position, "I thought you were leaving tomorrow?"
He rolled his eyes, but in the same manner that Rachel did, they only went halfway around, then dropped. She wasn't even sure if Rachel's eyes could roll completely.
"We were, but your Papa messed up the days, so we're just going tonight and then try something else tomorrow."
They nodded, and then crawled from the bed to kiss his cheeks. He ruffled their hair and said, "Be good."
Gerard popped in for a kiss and the two men left.
They didn't do much for that day. They talked more about names and had Thai for dinner, but when Quinn woke up, it was to some small cramping. Her pain tolerance had never been high and she groaned in pain.
Rachel opened her eyes and croaked, in her incredibly sexy, growling morning voice, "What's wrong?"
She rubbed just above her pelvis, "I think I'm having those Braxton Hicks contractions the doctor warned me about."
Rachel frowned, "Would you like a hot water bottle?"
She pouted, fluttering her eyelashes, "Please?"
"Gotcha," Rachel kissed her forehead, crawled out of bed, and Toto followed her. A minute or so later, when they were fading, Rachel was back and tucked the water bottle underneath her waistband. She rubbed circles on her belly and then said, cheerfully, "Your breasts are bigger."
Quinn sat up to hit her but another contraction hit and she laid back, glaring balefully at her companion, who was already at the door with an unrepentant grin.
"You suck," She groused.
Rachel smiled sweetly as she approached and kissed her cheek, "I'm gonna make you breakfast, just stay in bed for me."
That wouldn't be a problem.
The Braxton Hicks continued, a little stronger, but Quinn stayed in bed. The doctors had assured them that with Quinn's earlier physical healthiness and good diet – once they were on the Cheerios, they were on a specific diet of whole wheat and brown rice, grassfed meats, and organic vegetation that Coach Sylvester somehow had sponsors pay for that were sent directly to their homes – that she was actually in prime condition and her age was very good for childbirth, not too young for her pelvis to be underdeveloped but not so old that difficulties would arise. She'd bounce right back into her activities, probably with more energy with the added fat. Braxton Hicks were expected and she should, probably, have had them earlier than now.
With her eyes closed, she threaded her hands and put them behind her head.
Sounds seemed clearer, like that. She could feel her heartbeat, nearly hearing the lub-lub sound. She could hear Rachel singing and her feet on the stairs, then the door opening.
And, weirdest of all, she heard a tiny little "pop" before there was warmth on her thighs. It wasn't like pee, but more that odd, warm sensation of an unexpected period starting.
She opened her eyes just as Rachel dropped the dishes.
She sat up, then clutched her side at another Braxton Hicks contraction.
Except, she didn't think these were Braxton Hicks anymore.
"Rachel," Quinn said lowly. "Call 911."
Quinn changed into a dress as Rachel called and then began to babble, "Hello, yes, my girlfriend's started bleeding from her vaginal area and she's thirty-two weeks pregnant. She complained about Braxton Hicks contractions earlier and – no, this isn't normal, it's not spotting, please send an ambulance."
"Fire rescue," Quinn grunted, as she sat back down to take a guess as to where her feet were. Rachel was immediately there, putting on first one ballet flat, then the other.
"An ambulance," Rachel insisted, and told the person on the other line her address before hanging up.
"Fire rescue costs less," Quinn argued. Russell had always drilled it into her and Frannie's heads that if they didn't have the money on them, in cash, for an ambulance, that fire rescue was just as good and could foot the bill if a real ambulance was needed. She wasn't sure that was how it worked, but it was reflex to disagree.
Rachel stared at her, bewildered, as she changed into white jeans and grabbed a gray t-shirt, "You're having a baby, I think costs can go out the window at this point in time."
Quinn couldn't dispute that, and Rachel grabbed the baby bag that she'd insisted on making back in November and called her parents.
"Papa, Daddy, Quinn's having the baby," She said, with no preamble. She held it away from her ear automatically and waited a moment before continuing, "I've called 911, we're going to the front door for the ambulance now."
Quinn called her mother as Rachel left the room to get something, still on the phone.
"Mom, I'm having the baby," She said.
Her mother squeaked, "Already?" Then, "I'll get down to Lima General immediately, it's okay, baby, you were a quick labor."
She felt more contractions as her mother hung up and Rachel entered again, a stack of papers under her arm. She helped Quinn down the stairs and they waited in the living room for the ambulance to show up.
After three minutes of watching Rachel pace, she said, "Would you make me some oatmeal?"
Rachel nearly threw herself into the kitchen and made Quinn's favorite blueberry and hazelnut oatmeal, with lots of peanut butter in it, and Quinn ate as they waited.
"You think she took us seriously?" Rachel asked, handing her a glass of orange juice.
Quinn pointed out, twirling her spoon, "It's Valentine's Day. Who knows how many people have stabbed their partners at this point in the day."
Rachel's nose wrinkled, "You're so morbid. Have you always been this morbid?"
She said drolly, "Yes. You were too besotted to notice."
Rachel blew her a raspberry.
The blonde finished her drink when they saw the ambulance pull up and two people leave. Rachel opened the door and helped support Quinn outside. Her contractions were stronger and slightly faster. Once they got her settled onto the stretcher, one checked her dilation as the other helped Rachel flip through forms to fill out the insurance claim early.
"What the fuck?" Said the one flipping through forms.
She turned to her partner, "What do we do about temporary custody cases?"
"When's the temp up?"
She checked, "It looks indefinite, there's no ending date."
The second paramedic said, "Treat it like a regular custody case. We treat her and they sort shit out in the hospital."
He looked down at her vagina again, poking something inside much to her morbid embarrassment, and he called over his shoulder, "Tell Urie to step on it, she's like, five centimeters and I ain't good with babies."
Urie must have heard as the ambulance did indeed speed up and the ride became notably bumpier. Within two minutes, they were at Lima General Hospital. There was a wheelchair and a crowd of nurses waiting.
Another contraction hit her and she groaned, as they carried her to the chair, "I hate you, Spencer Broadhurst."
Rachel fairly ran to keep up with the nurse who had Quinn's chair, until her mother ran up to them, "Sweetheart, how are you?"
"Very much in labor," She whined. Another contraction hit her, this one longer and stronger. It felt like tight pressure against her cervix, like she was a balloon ready to pop, and her mother kissed her forehead. Rachel presented the hastily done forms to one of the nurses, who went through it with a fine tooth comb, and then asked, "Who's her permanent custody awarded to?"
Judy walked over, presented the nurse with her insurance forms, and Quinn was led to a delivery room. A gynecologist was already waiting, a sweet-looking, older woman, with soft brown and thick, black hair, and she spoke to Quinn, rather than her vagina.
She explained that she was going through her labor rather quickly but that was nothing to be worried about. Her charts were all there, and she looked healthy enough for this to be a quick, easy labor.
"You're also," She added, smiling, "Far enough along for your baby to be perfectly healthy. The last four weeks are typically just a formality, and eight weeks is typically a little worrisome, but you check out great, there aren't any complications with your baby when we did the amniotic fluid test during your last checkup, you've gained a pleasant amount of weight, and there's a 95% chance of a perfectly healthy child with other mothers, ones not so in shape, and I'd happily bump you up between 97 and 99."
Quinn smiled at her, finally relieved, and she was changed into a hospital gown quickly by the same doctor.
"I'm Doctor Bahjet," She finally introduced herself. "I know it's a little late, Ms. Fabray, but I wanted to get you settled first. Your care comes beforehand. If it's at all uncomfortable or painful, speak to me and I'll do everything I can. You're not far enough along that you can't get an epidural, some pain killers, for the rest of this."
Quinn shook her head, "My girlfriend and I decided to do this the natural way." She was always surprised at the sheer amount of joy that could be had from those types of words. Girlfriend. Other. Eventually, perhaps, possibly (definitely, if Rachel ever forgave her) wife.
"There's a lot of things to be said about natural," Dr. Bahjet said, the voice of professionalism and experience,"But one is that it is not altogether the most comfortable of rides."
She pointed out, "And besides, your girlfriend is not the one in labor right now."
Quinn really thought about it but shook her head. Dr. Bahjet helped her into the stirrups and checked her dilation.
"Someone's eager," She said, when her head popped back up, "You're at about six and a half centimeters. Maybe another hour and you'll be ready to start pushing."
Quinn leaned back and got comfortable on the thin pillows as Rachel walked in, wearing mint green scrubs.
"Hi, baby," She said, and kissed her cheek, then her lips. Quinn returned the kiss, then hissed against her teeth as another contraction hit. Rachel nuzzled her mouth against her cheek, then to behind her jaw and with little effort, slipped her shoes off and crawled into the bed, behind her. She settled Quinn against her chest, her hands on top of her bulging belly, knees locked on both sides of Quinn's waist, and the last of Quinn's tension left her completely.
Her mother came in, looking much more uncomfortable in her scrubs, and took the lone chair that Rachel had disregarded.
They seemed to have talked about something, as they were both solely focused on Quinn, not asking why the other was there, just accepting it. It was a good feeling, to Quinn, that they could sit in the same room with no arguing or slurs thrown. It would have been a different story with Russell.
Within thirty minutes, with Rachel whispering jokes in her ear that made her giggle and her mother's very presence, Quinn became fully dilated and Dr. Bahjet said, in her tender voice, for her to push with the contractions.
The pressure was obscenely intense, strong enough that she felt like she'd hurt something, a huge strain that she took out on Rachel's delicate hands, but with only four pushes, the baby was out and screaming.
"It's a boy!" Dr. Bahjet said over the noise. Rachel climbed out briefly to snip the umbilical cord with soft eyes. A nurse wrapped him up, and gave him to Rachel, who cradled him to her chest, eyes misty as she stared down at him, and then tears falling as she kissed his forehead and handed him to Quinn.
He was red, was what she first noticed. He was wrinkly and red and very pruned, with a big, screaming mouth and a nest of fine, pale golden curls. His hands were tiny little fists, curled tight, and close to his chest, and his legs kicked a little.
They took him away, briefly, to weigh him and check him out.
"Eight pounds, two ounces," said Dr. Bahjet. "And a perfectly healthy child."
He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, she realized, when they gave him back, and she cradled him to her before one of the nurses handed her a bottle full of warm formula.
The same nurse adjusted her hold, so that his head was in the crook of her arm, and she carefully fit the nipple to his mouth. He latched on and sucked with a strength she didn't know he could possess.
"What's his name?" Dr. Bahjet asked her.
"Asher," She responded. "Asher Josiah."
Rachel gave her a smile that melted her insides completely.
Josiah had been her first choice of names.