A/N: This is not a happy story. Warnings for mature themes. And apologies to the Klainers who have me on Author Alert for writing a Faberry fic. I've got some Klaine up my sleeve too, don't worry.

Three hundred and eighty one

Rachel Berry is seventeen when she is diagnosed with cancer.

She's got so many dreams and suddenly her life feels like a broken hourglass.

She knows all the real stars die young, but it feels like she hasn't got a chance to even begin.

She most of all fears being forgotten.

She listens as they chant numbers at her in her hospital bed. The doctor tells her that her outlook isn't too bad. She tries to believe him, but she's always been a drama queen.

People visit, one by one or sometimes in groups. They're all very sympathetic; all very nice. Some shuffle awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. Some come in and try to cheer her up. They bring her food and flowers and words of encouragement. Rachel wishes they would leave her alone.

Quinn Fabray doesn't really know why she stops by at the hospital. She almost doesn't enter the room, but she sucks it up, holding the basket of gifts she brought as a peacemaker as she slides through the door.

"Hi, Rachel," she says, sounding as bright as possible. "I brought you some stuff to make you feel a bit better. I know it's not much, but... well..."

Rachel props herself up in the bed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear self-conciously. "Oh. Um. Thank you, Quinn."

Quinn carefully passes her the basket, levering it as if it were made of glass onto Rachel's lap. Rachel feels a bit pissed off. Yes, she has cancer, but as of right now, she's as capable as ever. She makes no comment, however, and simply nods, half-smiling as she stares at the basket.

"Do you want me to open them no-"

"If you like," cuts in Quinn, embarassed, looking down.

Rachel nods and picks out the first parcel, absent mindedly putting her fingers in the right place to open the small parcel as she glances up at Quinn and asks; "How're things at school? In Glee?"

Quinn shrugs. "Normal, excluding the elephant in the room."

Rachel looks questioning as she pulls off the last layer of the present. It's a bracelet. It's not really her style, and Rachel finds herself thinking how much better it would look on Quinn. She smiles anyway. "Thank you. It's beautiful. You didn't have to bring me that, though."

Quinn shrugs uncharacteristically, averting her gaze from Rachel. It was too personal a present for the situation, too personal for whatever their relationship was.

Rachel reaches for another parcel. "So, um, what did you mean by the elephant in the room?"

"You being sick. Nobody really wants to talk about it."

"Oh. Well, I'm discharged tommorow, and I'll be back soon after. You guys don't really have to worry about it." She pulls off the wrapping paper to reveal a packet of sweets, nodding a thanks to Quinn as she places them by the side of her bed. They're her favourite, but she doesn't feel like eating.

"You're still sick, though. You still need treatment," says Quinn. "I mean- what stage of cancer is i-"

"One. Just one," Rachel cuts in. She's not hopeless yet. "It's not even that serious. I'll probably be fine after some chemo."

"Your beautiful hair's going to fall out, though," Quinn says, biting her lip as she looks at Rachel. Then she swiftly glances away.

"I- um, yeah." Rachel hadn't really thought about that. She hadn't wanted to.

She finds herself reaching for the last parcel and unwrapping it slowly. The rest of the basket is filled with fruit. She kind of wants to keep Quinn here. Despite their differences, and the threat of argument lingering above them, Rachel doesn't mind the company. She's not treading on pins like the others, scared of saying something to upset her. She asks the questions that need to be asked.

The silence is sweeping but for the crackle of paper as Rachel unwraps the box of chocolates.

She's not sure she's in the mood for chocolate, but it was a nice thought.

"Thanks," she says to Quinn.

"You're, uh, welcome."

"Well."

"I better go. You must be tired."

"I suppose," said Rachel, nodding after her.

Rachel curls back on the bed as Quinn leaves, twisting the bracelet between her hands. She's too tired to do anything else but imagine her own broadway fantasy unrolling as she sings quietly to herself.

In her head there are stars. In her head, she is the star, and she shines so bright. She won't let this cancer put her light out.