Author's Note: Ficlet set after Awakening Inside A Dream and Something In Your Eyes Is Makin' Such A Fool of Me and before Kissed By the Sun Each Morning.

Falling Fearless So Young So Foolish

We are young, we're foolish
Into the night
We just gotta get through this
The loneliest heights
Falling fearless, so young, so foolish
~Shaking Heads, Foxes

It's seven o'clock on a Saturday morning, and Rachel has been awake for most of the night despite the soul deep exhaustion that's been plaguing her for what feels like forever. To her relief, Quinn remains asleep beside her, blissfully unaware of her wife's unrelenting restlessness—well, unaware at the moment, at any rate. Quinn has made it a point to be wholly tuned into each and every one of Rachel's churning thoughts and emotions during her waking hours. Rachel is happy that at least one of them can find some measure of peace in sleep.

The apartment is quiet but for the occasional patter of Oliver's paws as he stalks the hallway, waiting for one of his humans to wake up and feed him, which means that Calliope is still asleep as well. Rachel can only be grateful for that. Their daughter has been waking up increasingly early, even on the weekends, and she's not quite ready to paste on a smile and be her baby girl's bright and cheerful mama just yet.

Mostly, Rachel just wants to lie here in bed all day, possibly for the next week, maybe even longer.

Her left hand rests listlessly over her stomach, palm down, as she stares up at the ceiling, teetering precariously between worry and hope and fear and back again. Quinn would tell her to stop fretting if she were awake—to think positive thoughts until they find out for certain—but Quinn isn't awake, and all of the positivity that Rachel has worn like a badge of honor for most of her life has been trampled into the dirt so many times in the last half a year that she's not entirely certain it will ever shine through in quite the same way again.

She can't even distract her mind with work. She'd wrapped on filming for Union City Blues last month, the award season (as disappointing as it had been) is over except for the Tonys, for which she's had no role to be nominated, there are no more appearances scheduled to promote her second album, and she doesn't currently have any new projects lined up to spark her creative energies. She'd been so certain that she'd have something so much more important than her career to occupy her time this year.

Rachel is jerked from her thoughts by the touch of a warm hand settling next to hers, and she turns her head to meet keen hazel eyes that are far more awake than they should be at this hour. "You're thinking too loud." The quiet accusation comes in a voice that's still rough with sleep and shaded with the muted concern that's been bleeding from Quinn for the last several days.

"I can't help it."

She really wishes she could—that she could simply forget her worries and start making happy plans for the future—but she's currently stuck in this impossible inbetween where she's expected to hope for the best while she constantly fears the worst.

With a soft sigh, Quinn shuffles closer, erasing the few inches that separate their bodies on the mattress. "I know, but I really think it's happening this time, Rach."

Her hand rubs a tiny circle over Rachel's belly—the warmth of it seeping so deeply into the skin beneath that Rachel can almost make herself believe that it's taking root inside her womb where they both so desperately hope that their second child is already beginning to grow. But—

"You said that the last time," Rachel reminds her sadly, even as she covers her wife's hand with her own. For a very short time, Quinn had technically been correct, which had only made the subsequent loss that much more potent. "I don't know if I'll be able to handle the disappointment again."

It had taken her months to work up the courage to try again.

A flash of grief mars Quinn's face before she quickly forces it away, offering Rachel her best reassuring smile. "No matter what happens, I'll be right here with you. We're in this together, and nothing will ever change that."

Rachel doesn't doubt that for a moment. Quinn had been right beside her when the happiness of a positive pregnancy test in early December had quickly turned into heartbreak after Doctor Klein had sadly confirmed that Rachel had lost the pregnancy two weeks later. It was barely enough time for it to even be noticeable—most women who weren't undergoing fertility treatments wouldn't have even known that they'd been pregnant at all—but it was still more than enough time to leave them both devastated. Quinn had cried and grieved right along with Rachel, and she will again if the transfer that Rachel had undergone three days ago results in a similar end.

They might be in this together, but Rachel is the one physically trying to get pregnant this time, and it's hard for her to know that she's already failed at something that Quinn had accomplished so very easily. Twice.

And it will be even harder for her to stop imagining the worst until the next pregnancy test comes back negative and puts an end to her dreams once again—or until she's finally holding a healthy baby in her arms.

Her heart flutters with hope despite her worry. "I really want to have your baby, Quinn," the already imagined tiny blonde angel to round out their family, "but if it doesn't work this time…"

"Hey, don't," Quinn interrupts with a stern frown. "We're only talking about that if and when we need to." She's already made it known that she's willing to be the one to get pregnant again if Rachel doesn't have the heart to keep trying, but she's also being careful to let Rachel make that particular decision. She wants Rachel to be able to carry their second child—to experience a pregnancy of her own—as much as Rachel does. "And I choose to believe we won't need to because our baby is already in here." The here is punctuated by the warm press of her hand against Rachel's belly. "Strong and healthy and determined to be born."

Gazing at Quinn in all of her stubborn confidence, Rachel feels her lips curve into a fond smile despite her worries. "When did you turn into such an optimist?"

Quinn's eyes twinkle with mirth. "Eleven years with you will do that to a person."

"I feel like we've switched places," Rachel admits, though she certainly isn't complaining that Quinn has generally grown less cynical over their years together.

"Only when it comes to this." Quinn turns over her hand where it still rests on Rachel's belly and tangles their fingers together while her expression turns serious once again. "I know this whole experience has been hard for you, sweetheart. It's been hard for me too, being on the other side of a pregnancy. I can't do much of anything except be your personal cheerleader." A wry smile twists her lips before falling away. "I feel so helpless, and I kind of hate it."

It's a sentiment that Rachel remembers all too well from Quinn's pregnancy with Calliope. "Just wait. If I actually stay pregnant this time, that feeling will only get worse."

A familiar teasing smirk settles on Quinn's face. "But I'll get to fuss over you and spoil you and drive you completely crazy with my overprotective coddling."

Rachel doesn't miss the playful jab at her perfectly reasonable methods of supporting her pregnant wife. "Unlike you, I won't be complaining about any of that," she informs Quinn haughtily. She's fairly certain that she'll be reveling in the attention and making outrageous demands.

"I'll remember you said that," Quinn says laughingly.

"And I'll remember that you're clearly teasing me about this because you secretly believe that you'll be so much cooler about everything than I was."

"Well, I think that's a given," Quinn assures her with a completely unapologetic grin.

Rachel sends her a mock glare, not nearly as annoyed with her as she should be. "You're terribly conceited."

"Pot and kettle, sweetheart," Quinn jokes before her expression softens. "But I got you smiling again."

And Rachel realizes that she is, in fact, smiling. Somehow, her wife has gently steered her into imagining a much happier future than she had been just moments ago. Shifting onto her side, she reaches out to stroke Quinn's cheek and silently thanks whatever higher power that blessed her with the heart of such a sneakily nurturing woman.

"I love you," she breathes before she brushes her lips over Quinn's in a soft, sweet kiss. The curve of Quinn's mouth beneath hers broadcasts her smile even before Rachel pulls away to see it.

"Love you too, sweetie." Her soft smile instantly morphs back into a teasing grin. "So much that I'll even let you have first dibs on the bathroom. I have a feeling Callie will be awake soon, and we'll need to be ready to intercept her before she can run in here and jump on top of us."

And by us, it's very clear that Quinn really means Rachel. She's had to catch their rambunctious daughter before she could tackle Rachel on more than one occasion since they'd started trying to conceive again. "See, you're being adorably protective of me already."

Quinn rolls her eyes playfully. "I'm being practical, Rachel. Our daughter inherited your hyperactive energy right along with your aversion to sleeping late on the weekends."

"I grew out of that," Rachel defends, though she's well aware that Calliope does actually take after her in that regard.

An arched eyebrow accompanies Quinn's skeptical hum. "It only took you thirty-four years."

Rachel squeaks in protest. "That's a total fabrication! I haven't even been alive that long."

Quinn giggles, wrapping an arm around Rachel's waist to urge her body closer. "You're only nine months shy."

The unpleasant reminder of how old she'll be on her next birthday is quickly lost to another realization. "Nine months seems to be a rather significant number right now."

Quinn's grin is radiant. "You and Baby Fabray might just end up sharing a birthday."

Rachel's smile fades slightly at that. As much as she wants to have a successful pregnancy that leads to a healthy baby, she's not certain if she's completely onboard with the idea of spending her birthday in labor. "Perhaps we could have timed this better."

"I think we timed it perfectly," Quinn muses, rubbing Rachel's back soothingly. There's something so very comforting in the depth of Quinn's loving eyes and the softness of her smile, and it's enough to allow that tiny blossom of hope inside of Rachel to grow a little bit stronger.

"I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

"We will," Quinn agrees, landing a quick kiss on Rachel's lips before pulling back with a grin and gently smacking her backside. "Now, go brush your teeth so I can kiss you properly."

Rachel huffs, rolling her own eyes. "I'm only choosing to obey you because it suits my own purposes."

"You need to pee, don't you?" Quinn asks knowingly.

"I'm not dignifying that with an answer."

Quinn's laughter shakes the bed nearly as much as Rachel's clumsy retreat, and it follows her into the bathroom where she has every intention of seeing to nature's call before she does, in fact, brush her teeth, but her forward progress is immediately halted by a colorful rainbow of paper covering every inch of the mirror above the duel sinks.

Her urge to pee is all but forgotten as she stares at the dozens upon dozens of post-it notes adorned with her wife's familiar script. A potent mix of confusion and curiosity has her blindly reaching out to snag one from the corner of the mirror, glancing at the simply written 'you are my world.' The words begin to swim before her eyes, even as she reaches for a second note, seeing that this one says 'your smile always makes me smile.' The next is 'forever won't be long enough,' and then, 'you fill all my empty spaces.' Her tearful gaze travels helplessly over the mirror, noticing that every single note contains some romantic little observation from Quinn.

"You don't mind cleaning off the mirror, do you?"

Rachel turns around to find her wife leaning casually against the doorframe, gazing at her with undisguised affection. "Quinn…?" is about all she can manage around the lump in her throat.

Quinn pads into the bathroom with a crooked smile, stopping in front of Rachel and reaching out to tenderly brush away the telling traces of moisture that have gathered beneath her eyes. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind this particular April Fool's prank."

A choked laugh bubbles out as Rachel shakes her head. "That's today?" It really isn't a question. She knows today's date—she's been counting them down since the embryo transfer. She just hadn't thought much about its more annoying significance with everything else going on this week.

"It is," Quinn confirms, loosely slipping her arms around Rachel's waist.

Rachel laughs a little wetly as she glances at the mirror. "And this is your prank?"

The playful smile on Quinn's face fades into a serious expression. "I wouldn't trick you today, Rach. Not when you're almost certainly carrying our baby."

"We hope," Rachel adds, still cautious to keep those hopes of hers from rising too high until she can take the pregnancy test and then successfully get through the next ten weeks.

"I have faith," Quinn tells her firmly, holding her gaze. "Because I have you." She tilts her head toward the mirror. "And I wanted to remind you exactly what you mean to me…how much I love every little thing about you. You're my life, Rachel. You and Callie." A tender smile once again pulls up the corner of her lips, and her gaze dips down between them meaningfully. "And anyone else who'll be coming along."

And really, it's completely pointless to even continue her poor attempt at holding back her tears now—not with her wife being this sweet. It takes a moment and more than a few sniffles until Rachel can even speak. "All these years…and you've never made me cry with one of your stupid pranks until now."

Quinn's tender smile turns playful again "It's probably the hormones."

Okay—that definitely helps Rachel control her tears, and she pokes her wife in the hip with a huffy, "Rude," before wiping away the wetness on her cheeks.

"I'm only teasing," Quinn offers by way of an apology, eyes twinkling with amusement.

With a sigh, Rachel leans into her wife's body and hugs her tightly. "Thank you for this." The tension she's been carrying for days (weeks, months, a year) feels so much easier to bear with the strength of Quinn's love supporting her, and she presses a grateful kiss to her cheek. "I'm going to read every single one of them," she vows when she leans back.

"Oh, I expect you to. I didn't write all of those out for nothing."

Rachel turns to look at the mirror again, smiling at the sight of Quinn's little love notes. There really are a lot of them. How did her ridiculous wife even manage to sneak into their bathroom and put these up without Rachel noticing? "It might take me awhile."

Quinn lifts a hand to tuck a lock of Rachel's hair back behind her ear with a loving smile. "Take your time, sweetheart. I'll go start breakfast. I'm sure it's just a matter of minutes until Callie is up and bouncing around the apartment."

"I love you," Rachel feels the need to say again.

With a grin, Quinn nods to the mirror. "That one's on there somewhere." And then she swoops in to steal another quick kiss before she lets go of Rachel with a soft, "Love you too," and saunters out the door, leaving Rachel to her task of reading all those post-its—right after she finally pees.

Reading through every note on the mirror really does take some time, especially when she has to keep stopping to wipe her tears while being careful not to smear any of the ink. And, of course, she has to neatly stack all the notes into a little pile so she can keep them forever.

After she thoroughly washes her face in an attempt to make herself presentable despite her now puffy eyes, she finally makes her way out of the bedroom to find both of her girls in the kitchen, already occupied with breakfast. Calliope is sitting at the breakfast bar with a spoon in her hand, swinging her legs back and forth with no particular rhythm while Quinn busies herself with whatever she's cooking on the stove. This is her family, no matter what else happens, and Rachel feels blessed to have them both. It's with that thought that she moves within touching distance of her daughter, murmuring, "Good morning, little star," before placing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

Calliope looks up at her with a wide grin. "Mornin', Mama."

"What's for breakfast?" she asks, even as she glances down into the bowl in front of her daughter to see a colorful mess of unhealthiness.

"Lucky charms," Calliope answers, smile growing even wider.

"Lucky charms," Rachel repeats unamused, lifting her eyes back up to her unrepentant wife. "Quinn. You might as well have let her eat straight from the sugar bowl."

That eyebrow of hers arches as Quinn points her spatula at Rachel. "She used the puppy eyes you taught her. What did you expect would happen?"

That's allegedly the same way those Lucky Charms had even gotten into the shopping cart to begin with (though Rachel has her suspicions about that), and she should expect her wife to have developed a better resistance to their daughter's pout by now—but then Quinn might suddenly develop a similar resistance to Rachel's version of it and that would just never do at all. So instead of commenting further, Rachel firmly informs their daughter, "You're having some fruit as well."

"Strawberries?" Calliope asks eagerly, though she's still having some trouble wrapping her tongue around the word without a faint (but adorable) lisp.

Grinning, Rachel lightly taps her finger against the tip of her daughter's nose, making her giggle. "If you like."

Calliope nods emphatically before announcing, "Mommy is making eggs for you." She scrunches up her nose in disdain. "The yucky ones."

Suppressing a laugh at her daughter's expression, Rachel looks to Quinn in silent question, to which her wife easily answers, "Poached."

"Ah, the healthy ones," Rachel comments knowingly, stepping around the counter to get a better view of her breakfast. Quinn only shrugs, wearing a mysterious grin as she turns back to the stove.

"We left the milk out for you, Mama."

"For my coffee?" she asks hopefully, even as she notices that the coffeemaker is empty and unplugged—just the way it has been for the last three days despite the fresh carton of decaffeinated coffee that Rachel knows for a fact is in the cabinet.

Quinn turns to look at her again with a stern expression. "No coffee." She points to the carton on the counter and the empty glass next to it. "Just the milk. It's healthier."

Rachel is tempted to argue—after all, she'd let Quinn indulge in the decaf on occasion while she'd been carrying Calliope—but she knows it's Quinn's way of being extra cautious in these still very early days, especially after the last time. "Fine," she huffs, hoping the forlorn look on her face is appropriately conveying her disillusionment with her new dietary restrictions. Quinn merely points at the milk carton again, so Rachel reluctantly reaches for it. If she does prove to be (and stay) pregnant this time, it's going to be a very long nine months if she can't at least sneak in an occasional taste of coffee, even with the subpar decaffeinated version. That sad thought is still in her head when the most decidedly not white milk hits the glass, and Rachel stares at the blue liquid in confusion.

Calliope immediately breaks into uncontrollable giggles, yelling out a giddy, "April Fools!"

Rachel purses her lips, lifting her gaze to her now snickering wife before directing her attention to her laughing daughter. "Did you do this?"

"Mommy helped."

Rachel shoots an accusatory glare at her wife. "Did she?"

"It's just food coloring," Quinn explains through her own giggles, as if that makes it better.

"I see why you were being so sweet to me this morning." She'd undoubtedly plotted this little prank with Calliope in advance, forever corrupting their sweet, innocent daughter into becoming an unremorseful trickster like her mommy.

Quinn merrily slips her arm around Rachel's waist. "Blue's a good color. Callie wanted to make it green."

"Like slime," Calliope giggles.

The thought is not at all appetizing. "You both enjoy these little pranks of yours far too much."

Calliope doesn't look the least bit chastised. "It's funny."

"Yeah, it's funny," Quinn echoes, also not the least bit chastised.

Rachel sighs dramatically, battling her smile at their antics. "You're going to do this every year now, aren't you?"

Their daughter giggles again. "Uh huh."

Rachel pokes Quinn's hip before gesturing to their daughter with barely concealed amusement. "Do you see what you've done?"

Quinn laughs, nodding. "I couldn't be prouder."

Calliope giggles again, and Rachel rolls her eyes at both of them. "I hope you know you're both drinking the blue milk until it's gone."

Their daughter's response is an entirely too eager, "Cool."

Still grinning, Quinn tightens her hold on Rachel. "Whatever makes you happy, sweetie."

Rachel's affectionate gaze moves from Quinn to Calliope and back again, and she finally lets her own smile bloom without restraint—because, "You make me happy. Both of you." She takes a moment to bask in Calliope's wide smile, letting herself imagine the added blessing of another child in the very near future who'll delight in fooling her right along with her two beloved pranksters. She'll never admit to anyone how much she's looking forward to it. "But I definitely preferred the post-it notes."

Her very foolish wife ruins the moment by cackling. "Just wait until next year."