Charlotte, NC

"She certainly likes eyeliner," Kurt said, trying to be helpful.

"Maybe you can work the Brandon Flowers vibe."

"Their songs are weird," Mercedes dismissed. "How romantic is

it to be singing about looking like Jesus or coming out of cages
or whatever?"

Artie now had a grand plan: Operation Tell Tina I'm Sorry For
Acting Like A Jerk These Past Few Months And Get Us Back To
Being Best Friends If Not Something More. ("Right," Kurt said.
"How about we just go with 'Operation Tina' for now?") In
order to execute said plan, he needed his friends. And frankly,
Kurt and Mercedes found plotting and executing a Grand
Romantic Gesture to be far more exciting than a NASCAR
museum anyway. So they excused themselves from the
NASCAR visit, and instead camped out at Mert's Heart & Soul
for some scheming with a side of collard greens.

"Girls want romance," Mercedes now said. "You better show

her some love. Some Musiq Soulchild. Maybe go old school
with Brian McKnight."

"While I have no doubt that Artie's voice would be perfectly

suited for the job, it can't be wise to have a skinny white boy
in a wheelchair crooning R&B ballads," Rachel said. "You're
just inviting the mockery."

"Okay. Her I kind of get." Mercedes gestured at Quinn. "Since

the whole thing was kind of her idea or whatever. But why is
she-" (she pointed to Rachel) "-here?"

"I am captain of the glee club," Rachel remarked. "It's natural

that I should be involved with performance-related matters."

"Uh-huh." Mercedes' voice was dripping with sarcasm. "And

that's the only reason?"

What was unsaid (but perfectly understood by all) was that

Rachel was there because Quinn was. One was around the
other so much that they were beginning to fuse together into a
single entity in the glee kids' minds.

"Well, no one has as much experience in theatrics as I do,"

Rachel responded, somewhat flustered. "And since this is glee
club, I think it would only be appropriate if Artie serenaded
Tina with a Broadway classic. I suggest 'On the Street Where
You Live' or for something a little more modern, perhaps 'I
Should Tell You'."

"I don't know if she'd like it," Artie said doubtfully. Rachel was
shocked. Appalled. Flabbergasted.

"Like? What's not to like? What's not to love?!"

Artie recoiled fearfully. Quinn, who sat slouched in her seat in

a state of utter disinterest, cleared her throat lightly.

"I think we should let Artie pick the song. It's his show, and
besides, he knows Tina the best."

Emboldened by Quinn's endorsement, Artie nodded.

"I do have a song in mind." Artie seemed almost confident.

"But I'm going to need your help. I don't even know where I'm
going to do this, but it has to be some place special."

"How about the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame?" Kurt suggested. "If
we go back to Ohio-"

"No!" Rachel cried out. They all turned and stared, and Rachel
scrambled for cover. "We're already out on the road and you
want to go back to Ohio for this? You might as well just stage
it in Artie's backyard. There's nothing special about that."

"Where would you suggest then?" asked Kurt, irritated but also
a little curious.

"Don't worry," Rachel beamed. "I've got the perfect place. I

know exactly where to go."
***

Crossville, TN

"I have no idea where to go," Rachel said miserably. She had
been able to convince the others to keep heading west,
promising that she knew of the perfect destination for Artie's
plan to be carried off when she hadn't the slightest clue.
Tomorrow she was going to have to give them an actual place
to go.

"You realize that this is, like, the dumbest idea you've ever
had, right?" Finn's voice on the other end of the phone. In the
background, she could hear the sound of gunfire and
screaming. She could see perfectly in her mind's eye Finn
stretched out on his bed with both hands firmly on his
Playstation controller and the phone cradled against his neck.
"Quinn's going to kill you when she finds- Holy cow! I just blew
that guy's arm off with my AK!"

Rachel thought that it might be a bad sign that Finn Hudson

thought that this was a dumb idea.

"It's going to be fine once she sees the baby," she said, more
for her sake than his. "I suspect that Quinn's despondency
partly stems from the fact that she never got to say a proper
goodbye to her child, as well as from carrying guilt from
doubting whether she made the best decision for the baby. But
once we get to Bakersfield, she'll see that the baby is happy
and healthy. Then Quinn will realize that she made the right
choice by giving her up. Additionally, when she sees that
interacting with the baby and the adoptive family is less
difficult than she imagined, she'll see that they can have a
relationship. It doesn't have to be one or the other."

Silence on the other end. The seconds ticked by.

"Finn?"

"Sorry. Still here," Finn said. "I'm just thinking about all the
things that are going to go horribly, horribly wrong with this."
"I'm not saying that everything will be perfect. But it'll be
better."

"It's not going to work," Finn warned. "This is going to end

badly. You know that, right? You can't meddle with people's
lives like this, Rachel."

"I just need to get us to California."

"You can't lie to your friends like this," Finn scolded. "Just tell
them the truth."

"I'm not lying. I may have ulterior motives, but I haven't

forced them to go anywhere. I merely suggested a few choice
destinations, and they decided to go. It's a democracy," she
countered. "If you were here, we could just tell them the plan.
They listen to you. They'd never listen to me."

"Well, you lie."

"Only when I have to and when it's for the greater good!"
Rachel exclaimed indignantly. "Besides, this isn't about Quinn
right now. I called you for help with Artie and Tina."

"I might have an idea," Finn said reluctantly. He didn't really

want to be part of this Get-Quinn-to-California scheme, but on
the other hand, he feared what kind of damage Rachel would
do to Artie and Tina's relationship if she were left to her own
devices.

He told her his idea, and they spent fifteen minutes discussing
the logistics. They were still mid-discussion when Rachel
suddenly heard the sound of a sliding keycard at the door. She
interrupted Finn and whispered rapidly into the phone,

"I have to go. I'll call you later."

The last thing Rachel heard over the line was Finn's voice
saying, "Bye, Driftwood."

She shut her phone and dropped it on to the bed just as Quinn
unlocked the hotel room door and stepped inside.

"Who was that?" Quinn asked.

"No one." Rachel forced a smile so wide that her cheeks ached.

Quinn looked suspicious, but in the end, shrugged lightly and

climbed under the covers. That night, they slept next to one
another positioned a little closer than usual, with Rachel's arm
flung over Quinn's abdomen. It was perhaps a little too
intimate for friends, but they were only sharing the room with
Brittany and Santana and those two were in no position to
comment on other people's displays of affection.

***

Interstate 40

"I spy with my little eye... something white," Brittany said.

"Is it a cloud?"

"Yes! That means it's your turn, Quinn."

"No thanks."

"Okay. I'll go again. I spy with my little eye... something that

starts with a c."

"Is it a cloud?"

"Yes! Yay, Rachel! Okay, your turn."

"Um... that's all right."

"Okay. My turn again. I spy with my little eye something...

that's in the sky."

This continued for another ten minutes.

***

Memphis, TN

"Nonononononono! No no no no!" Rachel screeched, stomping

around the small recording studio. "It's wrong! It's all wrong!
We're going to do it again from the top!"

The Bass Player recoiled in fear. He was 46 years old, he had

three ex-wives, he had toured with drugged out rock stars and
faced off greedy record executives, but he had never, ever
been as fearful of anyone as he was of this short-statured
teenaged girl.

"Is she always like this?" he whispered to one of the

teenagers, the boy with the ascot scarf and the perfectly
coiffed hair.

"No," Kurt replied. "She's usually more hysterical."

None of the kids had the money to rent out a recording studio
- let alone the historical Sun Studio - and hire musicians to
help them carry off Artie's plan. But Finn had been right. A kid
in a wheelchair with a "Help Me Win Back My Girl" story got
you a lot of sympathy, especially when you had Rachel Berry
delivering a teary narrative. The manager agreed to let them
have a couple of hours and his buddies agreed to play a song
that they already knew anyway. It had seemed like a good
idea at the time. It was a good deed and besides, a bunch of
eclectic but good-looking and vocally-gifted teenagers was a
spectacle that made the tourists happy. Of course, they didn't
count on the demanding craziness that was Rachel Berry.

"Listen," The Bass Player said to another kid, the one with the
stupid-looking mohawk. "We're happy to help out your friend
with his girl, but you guys need to do something about the
crazy little howler monkey."

"Oh, Rachel? Yeah, sorry about that, dude," Puck gave the
Bass Player a friendly thump on the back. "We'll get her
muzzle."

"Muzzle?" The Bass Player repeated in confusion. He watched

Puck pull aside the forlorn-looking blonde girl, whispering
something in her ear. Quinn rolled her eyes, but nodded, then
strolled over to Rachel, grabbed her arm and tugged her out of
the room. When they came back, Rachel was much calmer.

"Everyone, please take your positions," Rachel announced to

the room. "If it's okay with all of you, I think we should
attempt the number again."

Everything went smoothly after that.

***

Tina wasn't an idiot.

She noticed when Artie, Mercedes, Kurt, Rachel and Quinn

excused themselves from the NASCAR excursion in Charlotte -
and frankly, it had hurt a little when they didn't ask her to join
them. She was also pretty sure that she heard Kurt whisper
the words "Operation Tina" to Puck later that night. Things got
downright weird when they got to Memphis and everyone
found something else to do, leaving Mike, Brittany and her to
tour Graceland by themselves. Something was up, and Tina
was reasonably sure that she was at the center of whatever
was being planned. She repeatedly asked Mike and Brittany,
who exchanged nervous looks.

"You can ask them at dinner when we meet up with them,"

Mike told her. "Now, let's go see Sun Studio before it closes."

The studio was pitch black from the outside. Tina wasn't sure
that it was even open, but Mike and Brittany insistently guided
her in. It was pitch black inside too.

"G- guys?" Her stutter was genuine this time. "I- I don't think
we should be in here."
"It's fine," Mike said firmly. Tina was pushed and pulled
through the darkness and plopped down on a stool. A light
came on. Tina found herself staring through a window at the
recording room where all of her friends were gathered. Rachel
stood in the center.

"We're standing in the room with a history of beginnings,"

came Rachel's voice through the intercom. "This is where Elvis
Presley recorded his first song. Where Johnny Cash was
discovered, and Roy Orbison and Jerry Lee Lewis. This is the
birthplace of rock n' roll. This is the place to take a look at
something old, and this is the place to take a chance on
something new." Rachel paused. "I didn't write this speech. I
think my draft was much clearer in its metaphorical
comparisons, but Artie wanted to keep it short."

"Rachel!" Artie whispered harshly from his corner.

"So if you're confused, it's not my fault," Rachel continued. "I

tried to warn them."

"Rachel!" Kurt hissed.

"Basically, your friendship with Artie is the 'history' part,"

Rachel added hurriedly. "And the 'beginnings' thing is what
comes next-"

"She gets it, Rachel!" Artie exclaimed. Tina nodded in

agreement, eager to see what was next.

To everyone's chagrin, Rachel opened her mouth again. "And

the whole rock n' roll thing is about-"

"Rachel," Quinn interrupted calmly. Rachel stopped.

"All right, well..." Rachel cleared her throat lightly. "Taking a

chance on something new."

She moved to the back, and Artie, embarrassed but

determined to get through this, wheeled himself to the center,
an electric guitar across his lap. Looking through the paned
glass, he caught Tina's eye. She smiled, faintly but
encouragingly. Artie felt a surge of confidence. Riding high on
that wave, he struck the first chord on the guitar, launching
into an upbeat, slightly-modified version of a popular song.
The band behind him joined in, and Artie began to sing,
pouring all the feelings he had but couldn't convey into the
song.

Show me how you do that trick

The one that makes me scream, she said
The one that makes me laugh, she said
And threw her arms around my neck.
Show me how you do it
And I promise you, I promise that
I'll run away with you.

***

What had started out as a celebration had turned into an

impromptu dance party in the hotel room shared by Puck,
Mike, Matt and Artie. Except that Artie wasn't there - and
neither was Tina. The two of them had retreated to her room
to talk in private about their friendship/relationship/whatever
it was now.

"My boy Artie is totally getting some right now!" Puck crowed,
raising his open hand up in the air for a studly high-five. Kurt
stared at him like he'd suddenly sprouted two heads and put
on a tutu. Mike and Matt shied away, doing that blend-into-
the-background thing they do so well. Finally, Brittany took
pity on him and slapped his hand gently.

"Go Artie!" Brittany parroted before Santana seized her by the

arm and dragged her away while shooting dirty glares at Puck.
Puck sought to appease Santana by magically producing
bottles of liquor.

Half an hour later, they were all dancing to The Black Eyed
Peas.

Twenty minutes after that, they were dancing and singing to

Lady Gaga.

Forty minutes after that, Matt and Kurt were singing a duet to
Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me".

Thirty-five minutes after that, Puck was belting out a slurred

melody that suspiciously sounded like "Burnin' Up" by The
Jonas Brothers but miraculously, no one was paying attention
because they were all engrossed by their own rapidly
escalating private drama.

Matt glared at Kurt as he indignantly declared, "But we didn't

have time to perfect the choreography! They brought Tina to
the studio too early!"

"That doesn't change the fact that it was sloppy," Kurt

responded snippily.

"I saw how you were all over him!" Santana whispered
furiously to Brittany.

"We were only hugging," Brittany whimpered. "He's so squishy

to hug. And it's only Puck."

"Only Puck?!"

"HOW DARE YOU!" Mike was downright apoplectic as he

bellowed at Mercedes. "Sweet Home Alabama is vastly
superior to Legally Blonde!"

Quinn pulled Rachel into the bathroom, slamming the door

tightly shut behind her, and locking it. If there was heavy
furniture she could have used to make a blockade, she would
have. Disorientated by the sudden movements and the alcohol
she had consumed earlier, Rachel stood swaying in the middle
of the bathroom, feeling the room spin all around her. She
eyed the bathtub. It looked nice and sturdy. She staggered
over and sat down on its edge. Almost instantaneously, she
slipped off and over into the bathtub with a dull thud.

"Rachel?" Quinn ambled over from the door. "You all right?"
Rachel answered Quinn with a giggle. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting away from those morons before I kill one of

them."

"Oh." Rachel frowned, scrunching her nose tightly. It was the

same face Brittany made when faced with fractions. "What am
I doing?"

"You're getting away from those morons before I kill one of

them. Now move over," Quinn demanded.

Rachel complied, and Quinn stepped into the bathtub, clumsily

lowering herself until she was lying with Rachel side by side. It
was a tight fit, but that was kind of the point. Rachel ended up
enveloping Quinn in her arms, simply because she had
nowhere else to put them. Quinn rested her head against
Rachel's shoulder. They lay quietly together. Quinn could feel
her head throbbing and her heart pounding - which, of course,
could only be due to the fact that she'd had too much to drink
and not because of any other external factors. Her body felt
heated, but she didn't mind the warmth emanating from
Rachel's torso. Still, cold, hard porcelain wasn't the most
comfortable surface in the world, so Quinn shifted lightly to try
and make herself more comfortable. Somehow, her lips ended
up grazing the soft skin by Rachel's collarbone, which tickled
the drunken brunette and sent a fit of shivers and giggles
through her.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked, mostly because she was
genuinely having a difficult time processing anything at the
moment.

"Nothing. What are you doing?"

Rachel thought carefully before answering. "I think you just

kissed my neck."

"You're drunk. Or delusional. I think both, actually."

"I'm not saying I mind," Rachel explained. "I wouldn't judge

you for it. I just wanted to know if you did."
"Ew, no! Gross, Berry!" It occurred to Quinn that her words
might have more of an effect if she didn't have her entire body
molded against Rachel Berry's at the moment. She thought
about getting up. But it seemed like such an effort. "Just shut
up and lie still, okay?"

Rachel obliged, but only for a little while.

"Are you having a good time?"

"My head hurts," Quinn complained. "And it's too loud out
there." Then she conceded, with some reluctance, "But, yeah.
I'm having a good time."

"Good."

With her head tucked against Rachel's shoulder, Quinn couldn't

see the smile on the brunette's face, but she could feel it, like
pure joy was radiating from the smaller girl's body. Quinn had
always known that Rachel was the eager-to-please type, but it
still gave her a thrill to know that Rachel was happy because
she was happy.

"Thank you," Quinn said quietly. "For this trip. You didn't have
to, and I know I was being a real brat about it at first... but
you've just been so good about this whole thing. And you've
been wonderful to me when you really, really don't have to be,
but I just... I mean, thank you."

"Hmm?" Rachel responded hazily, her mind more preoccupied

with the feel of Quinn's hot breath against her skin than with
what Quinn was saying. Quinn sighed.

"Just shut up and lie still."

***

Spread across two booths at the Arcade Restaurant were ten

kids. Eight of them were hungover. Seven of them had
sunglasses on to shield them from the vicious rays of
fluorescent lighting. Six of them hated Rachel Berry.

"Hoooow?!" Kurt moaned, his fingers curled tightly around his

coffee cup. "How is she perfectly okay?!"

Rachel stood between the two booths, her hair neatly brushed,
her eyes bright and her smile wide. In her hands she held a
binder which she had dubbed The Trip Bible. It consisted of
maps, brochures, pamphlets, information printed off the
internet - anything and everything that might be marginally
useful in planning a road trip. At the moment, she was trying
to get everyone focused. She jabbered on excitedly about
preferred routes, pre-scheduled bathroom breaks and possible
points of interests assorted by descending order of
importance. But as it turned out, these were not things that
interested hungover teenagers - which was pretty much
everyone besides Artie, Tina and Rachel. Artie and Tina were
unaffected because they had missed the binge drinking last
night, and Rachel was unaffected because... well, she's Rachel.

"We did like eight shots together last night!" Puck lethargically
poked at the bowl of grits before him, wanting to have some
but feeling his stomach churn at the thought of food. Rachel,
on the other hand, had effortlessly consumed eggs and
sausages plus one of Brittany's sweet potato pancakes. "I
don't get it, man. I feel like shit and you're... you."

"She got up at six a.m. this morning," Santana grumbled. "She

did seven laps around the hotel."

"Eight," Rachel corrected. "And don't feel bad, Noah. It's just
simple genetics. Some people are naturally predisposed to
rapid recovery from the effects of alcohol. Now, if we could all
just focus for a moment-"

"Oh, God, make It stop!" Mercedes howled.

"Fine! I'll stop." Rachel reluctantly set the Trip Bible down on
the table. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to use the
washroom. I strongly encourage that each of you do the same
before we leave. Quinn?" Quinn grunted with something
vaguely resembling exasperation, but got up from the table
and followed her.

"Why do girls go to the bathroom together?" Matt asked,

watching the girls' retreating figures.

"Why do you think, bro? It's so they can get it on," Puck
smirked.

"Why is your mind constantly filthy?" Mercedes scowled. "We

just like having a little company. It's not because we 'get it on
with' in the bathroom."

Brittany spoke up, "Actually, when Santana and I-"

"More coffee, B?" Santana hurriedly interrupted. Puck looked

distinctly disappointed at the interruption.

"I think it's nice," Tina commented idly. "When girls go to the
bathroom together, we get to gossip about the rest of you."

"You think everything's nice right now because you're in love,"

Kurt retorted. "Disgustingly, cuddling-ly in love." True to his
point, Tina was resting quite comfortably at the moment with
her head against Artie's shoulder. Tina blushed, and start to
straighten up, but Artie took her hand, whispered a few words
of reassurance in her ear and kissed her forehead. Tina
relaxed, and rested against him once more.

"Who goes to the bathroom to talk?" Puck turned to Matt and

Mike. "Girls are always going to the bathroom and buying
clothes and watching each other change. And those sleepovers
they have? Girls do the gayest shit."

"So..." Mike started hesitatingly. "You think Rachel and Quinn

are getting it on right now?"

Suddenly, Puck was in no mood to talk about this further. He

shrugged, muttered a quick "I dunno" and sought to change
the topic.

"Brittany," he said. "What are you looking at?"

"Rachel's maps." Brittany was leafing through the Trip Bible.
She looked up from them now, a look of utter confusion on her
face. "You guys? When did we stop going to New York?"

Conversation halted as they considered the question. Of

course, they were all perfectly cognizant of the fact that they
ended up a thousand miles away from their initial destination,
but none of them had ever stopped to consider how or why it
happened. It had all seemed like a perfectly organic
development. There was always some place "a few hours
away" that someone just wanted to "stop by" at. Somehow,
Memphis became a detour on the way from Lima to New York
and none of them questioned it. These kids were talented at a
lot of things. Keeping focus was not one of them. They needed
Mr. Schuester's authority, or Finn's leadership, or Rachel's
ambitious drive. Without any of these things, they just
floundered.

It was Artie who broke the silence.

"I guess it just kind of happened that way. Or didn't happen."

He squeezed Tina's hand, a goofy grin on his face. "Worked
out for the best though, didn't it?" Kurt and Mercedes turned
to one another and exchanged a look of disgust undercut by
the slightest sliver of affection.

"Okay," Brittany said slowly. "But why are we going left?"

When everyone looked baffled, Santana translated, "She

means west. West is on the left side of the map."

"At least she finally learned to tell her right from her left," Kurt
muttered under his breath.

"Let me look at that." Puck took the Trip Bible from Brittany,
and flipped through the maps. Rachel had highlighted the
different possible routes they could take with different colors,
but all the lines she drew ended up in the same place. Puck
had never been there, but he recognized the name right away.
This recognition caused a dark, forbidding bile to rise from the
pit of his stomach and crawl through his body and limbs like an
electrified eel. He slammed the binder shut.

"What's up?" Mercedes asked.

"Nothing," Puck lied casually with an easy shrug. "Just more of

Rachel's nerdy bullshit. I swear that girl has a freakin' mental
illness."

"Where are we going next?" Tina asked, a little nervously. "I'm

having a lot of fun, but it's been almost a week. My mom
wants to know when I'm coming back." Tina had been calling
home every night, purporting to be calling from New York City
and making up a new story each time of the things they did
that day. She was starting to run out of tourist attractions to
name.

"Why don't we ask the Puppetmaster?" Santana nodded

toward Rachel's approaching figure, trailed closely by Quinn.
Puck opened his mouth to object, but before he could, Rachel
was tableside and Santana was asking, "Berry, where the hell
are you taking us?" A flicker of concern clouded Rachel's
expression, but it passed just as quickly as it came on.

"What do you mean?" Although she tried to keep it casual,

there was a hint of tension to Rachel's tone. But you wouldn't
be able to tell unless you were paying close attention, which
no one was - except for Puck.

"I mean we've been roaming the country for a week and we're
nowhere near New York City," Santana said.

"Well, that's not my fault," Rachel answered defensively. "I

tried to keep all of you on task." Which wasn't a complete lie.
She did try... at least at first.

"But where are we going next?" Artie asked. "We're obviously

not going to New York anymore."

"Why are you all looking at me?" Rachel fidgeted

uncomfortably, nervous about all the attention, and nervous
about having to lie to everyone.
"Because." Mercedes rolled her eyes. "You plan everything.
You schedule pee breaks!"

"I..." Although her mouth continued flapping, no more sounds

came out of Rachel's mouth. She looked helplessly amongst
the group, at all those inquisitive, curious eyes. She felt her
throat tightening as she recalled Finn's words, "You can't lie to
your friends like this." He was right, of course. She couldn't.
All she had to do was tell them the truth. But then she turned
and locked eyes with Quinn. In that instant, all the words that
Rachel knew drained out of her, and all she could say was:

"I don't know."

Everyone exchanged confused looks. They were smart enough

to figure out that something was going on here, but they didn't
know what.

"I don't know," Rachel repeated, a little desperately this time.

"But what does it matter? What's there to go back to Lima?"
The responses were instantaneous and simultaneous.

"Summer job." "My dad." "Friends." "Classes." "My pool."

"Warcraft." "My dog."

It seemed like everyone had an answer. Everyone except for

Quinn. But Quinn was the only one Rachel was looking at. That
was the giveaway. Suddenly, they all knew. They may not have
known of Rachel's ultimate designs to get Quinn to California,
but they knew that whatever was happening here was
happening because of Quinn. And so did Quinn.

"Whatever. I'm bored." Quinn's feigned indifference usually

came off better, but she was doing her best, given the
circumstances. "I'm going to get a milkshake."

Rachel waited until Quinn was out of earshot, then started,

"Let me explain-"

"Hold up," Mercedes cut her off. "You mean to tell us that
you've got us wandering around aimlessly because Quinn
Fabray doesn't want to go home?"
If Rachel had to admit it: yes. That was exactly it. Getting
Quinn to California was at best a secondary motive, and a
belated one at that. Rachel orchestrated this entire trip
because of Quinn in the first place, to get her off the couch
and out doing something. She wanted to have Quinn happy
and smiling again, and that certainly wasn't going to happen in
Lima, Ohio. The truth was, even if they had ended up in New
York, Rachel would have stalled them to stay in New York or
manipulated them into going elsewhere. If it wasn't California,
it would've been Oregon or Canada or Zimbabwe - it didn't
matter where as long as it wasn't Lima.

"You don't know what it's like for her," Rachel said sharply. Her
back straight and her eyes fiery, any trace of nervousness was
gone as she remembered why she was doing this in the first
place.

"Can you imagine what she went through? She had a baby,
and she had to give her up. Now she has to go back to that
house every night, to those sorry excuses for parents who had
kicked her out and who won't even look her in the eyes
anymore. Being in Lima was hurting her too much. There are
these little reminders everywhere. All she can see is the
humiliation she went through last year; she sees her parents'
judgment and rejection, and she sees the little girl that she
gave up. This is just another summer for you, but it's been
complete and utter hell for her. And so what if we don't have a
set destination? It's a road trip, and we're all having fun,
aren't we? This trip is good for her - it really is. I know she can
still seem a little surly, but she's doing so much better. She
needs this. She needs us."

Silence now. They digested Rachel's words. They all looked to

one another, exchanging the basest of emotions through
glances, and conveying their decisions to one another through
the slightest of nods. A group consensus was reached without
a word ever having been spoken.

"Rachel," Kurt said gently. "We just want to know where we're
going next."
So it was decided for them to continue the trip. The "where"
didn't matter anymore (not that it ever meant much in the first
place). The "why" certainly did though. What had started out
as nothing more than a fun, frivolous trip was now a mission
to help a friend in need - Quinn, who had been falling apart so
helplessly in Lima and who clearly wasn't ready to go back yet.
But aside from Rachel's spiel in the Arcade Restaurant, they
didn't talk about the "why" anymore. Talking about it only
would have made it worse for Quinn. Some things didn't need
to be said out loud.

So as far as anyone was concerned, they continued wandering

for no reason other than that it was a road trip, and that it was
fun.

***

Interstate 40

They drove with the windows down and the stereo turned all
the way up, because it's a road trip and this was just the sort
of thing you do on a road trip. They were playing songs off
Quinn's surprisingly diverse iPod. Rachel didn't know the song
that played now, but that was okay, because that meant she
could just watch Quinn sing along with every word.

"Well, we know where we're goin' but we don't know where

we've been," came her soft, sultry voice. "And we know what
we're knowing, but we can't say what we've seen."

Quinn was beautiful, of course, but never quite as beautiful as

when she lost herself in music. The setting sun cascaded
across her delicate features as she stared out the open window
at the blurry passing landscape with a distant, wistful gleam in
her hazel orbs. Rachel stared, mesmerized. She hardly noticed
Santana's voice joining in.

"There's a city in my mind, come along and take that ride. And
it's all right, baby, it's all right." Santana was looking at
Brittany out of the corner of her eyes, with a smile at the
corner of her lips. "And it's very far away, but it's growing day
by day."

Quinn turned her head, saw Rachel's helpless stare, and

smiled. Rachel felt a rush of blood to her head, filling her ears
with deafening thumps like wild drums as her heart raced and
raced. Flustered, she sought to deflect the embarrassment by
singing along with the few lines of the chorus she picked up
on.

"We're on a road to nowhere."

Santana suddenly jerked her head to the side, toward the

open window. She struggled to keep one eye on the road even
as she gagged and spat. She rolled up the window, then
reached for the stereo, dialing down the volume.

"New rule. No more driving with the windows down," she

announced with a hint of a growl. " I just swallowed a god
damn gnat."

***

Little Rock, AR

"So you convinced them to keep going." Despite himself, there

was a hint of awe in Finn's voice.

"Yes, I did!" Rachel was trying so hard not to gloat. Well, she
was trying a little. "You see? It's all working out." Although
Rachel's definition of "all working out" apparently involved her
hiding by the motel's ice machines so that she could talk to
Finn without Quinn knowing.

"Uh-huh." He sounded entirely unconvinced. "Right. We'll see."

"Ye of little faith."

"Did you just call me Eve?"

"No, I said ye. The phrase is-" Rachel decided that the
Education of Finn Hudson was a futile project. "Nevermind."
Instead, she proceeded to tell him about the things they did in
Little Rock that day. They weren't particularly exciting - it
sounded like the highlight of their day in Little Rock was the
Clinton Presidential Library, which frankly no one cared about
except for Rachel, who had been embarrassingly enthusiastic
and who ultimately had to be literally dragged out of the
museum by Mike and Matt - but it sounded like all his friends
were having a good time, and Finn was missing out on all of it.

"So... when do you think you guys will be coming back to

Lima?" he asked towards the end of their conversation.

"I'm not sure. It depends how long it takes me to get them to

California." It would only take a full day's continuous driving to
get to California, but Rachel had to use finesse to get them
from one place to another, gently nudging them forward. At
this rate, god knows how long it would take them. Not that
they were in a rush, as far as Rachel was concerned, since
Quinn wasn't ready to go home anyway.

"Oh." The disappointment was evident in Finn's voice. He was

a bit more upbeat when he asked, "Do you know where you
guys are going tomorrow?"

"Well, Quinn said something about going to a Bible Museum in

Eureka Springs. Then we're going to Tulsa." Rachel's voice
trilled with excitement. "We're going to see Oklahoma! at
Discoveryland!"

Finn decided that he wasn't missing out on very much after all.

***

They were locked in the bathroom again, huddled together in

the bathtub while all their friends were getting drunk and
bickering amongst themselves. Once again, Rachel's arms
were around Quinn, who had the top of her head tucked
beneath Rachel's chin. Neither said much. Together they
listened to the sound of their friends' carousals and felt the
warmth radiating off each other's body. Quinn could feel the
alcohol coursing through her body. All of her insides thumped,
deep and drum-like. Her body almost entirely on top of
Rachel's, she could feel the rhythm of the brunette's
heartbeat, and she could feel the rise and fall of Rachel's every
breath, her exhales reverberating through Quinn's body. It felt
as if they were one organic machine, operating in concert and
inextricably tied.

Quinn could feel her leg numbing, and she stirred to keep the
blood flowing and to stave off the oncoming cramp. Her body
shifted, and her lips brushed against skin. It hadn't been
intentional, but it did happen, and this time, Quinn definitely
realized what she did. She waited for the inevitable question,
and Rachel didn't disappoint, although it did take her a full
minute to work up the courage to ask it.

"Did you just kiss my neck?"

"Maybe I did," the ex-Cheerio said defiantly, conjuring up

some of her old attitude. "So what?"

Rachel didn't answer for such a long time that Quinn thought
that maybe she had passed out. But finally, she responded:

"Well..." She drew out the last syllable, slow and hesitating. "I
suppose I'd have to get even. It would only be fair."

"Get even? How would you even do that?" Quinn knew

perfectly well how. Her voice may have even shook a little at
the thought.

Instead of a verbal response, Rachel decided to show her

instead. She adjusted her position and dipped her head until
her lips could meet Quinn's neck, and quickly pecked. Once.
Twice. Once on each side of the neck, because Rachel's a fan
of symmetry. Then, just as quickly, she lay back down.

Quinn had been expecting this. At least, she thought that she
had been expecting this. But it still took her a couple of
minutes to react. It took that long for the tingling sensation to
fade from where Rachel had kissed her.

"How was that even?" she now demanded to know. "You got
two and I got one." This was a matter of principal. This was a
matter of dignity. And to settle this matter, Quinn leaned in
and pressed her mouth against Rachel's throat, long and
lingering. She could feel Rachel's rapid pulse against her lips.
With a surge of involuntary curiosity, Quinn parted her lips,
and a sliver of tongue darted out, gently grazing soft flesh.
She felt Rachel's body shiver, and her own body responded in
the same way.

When Quinn finally pulled away, it was with the halting

reluctance of magnets being forcibly separated. She didn't go
very far, and hovered just inches away. Rachel gazed up at her
through fluttering eyelids, and even with the glossy veil of
intoxication, her expressive brown orbs were brimming with
unbridled need and want. The effect was potent. Suddenly,
Quinn felt a powerful jolt of yearning, the intensity of which
she had never before fathomed, let alone experience. She
craved. She craved so badly that this foreign sensation was as
terrifying as it was pleasing. So she responded the only way
she knew how.

She untangled herself from the other girl, and awkwardly

climbed to her feet.

"We're drunk."

"But I'm not-"

"We should get back," Quinn eagerly broke in. "We can't hog
the bathroom all night, can we?"

"I don't think anyone minds."

"I'm feeling kind of tired anyway. I think I'm just going to go

back to the room."

"I can come with you," Rachel offered.

"That's all right. Stay. Enjoy the party." Quinn started to go,
and Rachel felt a pang of fear.

"Quinn," she said. Quinn stopped. "Are we okay?" When Quinn

turned around, there was genuine surprise in her eyes.

"Of course we are." Quinn went back over to Rachel's side.

She took the brunette into a friendly hug. When she pulled
back, she gave the brunette a peck on the cheek. "Why
wouldn't we be?"

With a relieved smile, Rachel nodded. She thought that

everything would be okay. But she was wrong.

***

Eureka Springs, AR

"Jesus," Mike gaped.

"Yep," Matt nodded.

Jesus was right. All 67-feet of him, Christ of the Ozarks was an
enormous arms-akimbo statute atop a mountain overlooking
Eureka Springs. Gathered at the base of the statue, the kids
craned their necks up to stare at the sight before them.

"He's so..." Artie searched for the right word. "...Boxy."

"That's not a svelte figure, no," Kurt agreed.

"That's our Lord you're talking about!" hissed Santana.

"Speak for yourself," Kurt countered. "And may I just remind

you that the man who erected this statue was a bigot who
hated Jews, black people and gays? None of us would be
welcome here in his time."

"None of that applies to me," Quinn said.

"Me neither," Santana quickly added.

Everyone turned to gawk at Santana, and by
association/proximity, Brittany. It was uncomfortable.

"What?!" Santana snapped. But none of them wanted to be

the one to point out that Santana's Kind Of But Not Really
Thing with Brittany was pretty damn gay. (And then there was
Quinn... more than one person has picked up on her new-
found familiarity with Rachel, but no one wanted to touch that
subject with a 10-feet pole. Or a 67-feet Jesus.)

"Um," Brittany said meekly, trying to resolve the tension.

"You're, like, Hispanic. That's kind of black, right?"

That sounded good enough for everyone else, and they chose
to let it drop.

They soon decided to head into town for lunch. The main
street in Eureka Springs was a small, windy road flanked by
old Victorian-style buildings. It was rather picturesque, and
initially they were all too distracted by the shops and arguing
over what to have for lunch to notice that there was something
a little different about this town. It was Matt who first pointed
it out.

"Hey, guys? Does anyone else notice that this place is-"

"Really gay?" Kurt finished for him, watching enviously as two

young men walked by hand-in-hand. Really gay was about
right. There were gay men and lesbians openly milling about,
some coupled, some not. Some of the coupled ones weren't
very shy about displaying their affection for one another. This
was more than a little unexpected from a town that also
hosted a 67-feet Jesus and a religious theme park which
contained a Bible Museum and nightly Passion play
performances.

"What's going on?" Puck asked, dumbfounded and - if truth be

told - a little uncomfortable.

"Maybe we should ask someone," Rachel said. She noticed

Kurt gazing at an awkwardly tall young teenager with a dopey
grin and a Rent t-shirt. "Kurt? Maybe you should be our
representative."

"Well, you twisted my arm," Kurt said breezily before taking off
to approach the awkwardly tall young man. It took Kurt half an
hour to rejoin the group, and when he returned, his eyes were
blazing with excitement. "Here's the scoop. About three times
a year, this town hosts something called a Diversity Weekend.
It's a big pride celebration and people come in from all over for
it."

"So it's like a big party for homos?"

Kurt shot Puck a look filled with utter contempt. "If you must
put it so crudely."

Wisely sensing that he didn't have an ally in Noah Puckerman,

Kurt turned to the others.

"I swear I'll never ask for anything else this trip. Can we
please spend the night here?" Predictably, Puck groaned.
Everyone exchanged looks of mild discomfort. It wasn't that
they had anything against staying, but none of them were
particularly for it either. These kids always needed a bit of a
push to get things done, and Kurt didn't have an especially
forceful personality. He was going to need back-up. He found it
in an unlikely source.

"I think it's a good idea," Quinn said. Ten pairs of surprised
eyes trained on her. "It's just a party, right? Why not?" Kurt
had a mile-wide smile spread across his face. In that moment,
he absolutely adored Quinn Fabray. Quinn returned his smile
and slipped her arm around his. "If we're going to spend the
night, we should try and find a place a stay."

It wasn't an easy task to find last-minute rooms, but after an

afternoon of scrambling and cajoling, they managed to find a
B&B with three rooms left. After dinner, the group split up.
Kurt had received an invite from the Awkwardly Tall Renthead
to hang out with his friends. Some of the others preferred to
have a quieter night. Kurt was surprised at the people who
chose to go with him.
"Are you sure you want to come?"

Puck shifted from one foot to another, scowling at the puzzled

stares everyone was giving him.

"Yeah, well... look, you don't even know this guy and you're
going out with him and his friends? God knows what those
animals might do," Puck said. "You might be gay, but you're
our gay. We watch out for our own." Kurt didn't know whether
to be disgusted by Puck's homophobia or touched by his
protectiveness.

Mercedes naturally went along with Kurt. Matt and Mike tagged
along to be Puck's moral support. So Rachel and Quinn found
themselves out strolling through the quiet streets with Artie
and Tina, who were constantly cuddling due to their new
romance; and Brittany and Santana, who were constantly
cuddling because they were Brittany and Santana. It didn't
take long for those two pairings to excuse themselves and
disappear to more private locales. Rachel and Quinn wound up
sitting on a bench in the park. A light breeze kicked up, and
Quinn shivered in her light tank top, so naturally Rachel put
her arm around her. Quinn mumbled a quick thank you.

Rachel was glad for this moment alone. Quinn had been
distant with her all day. She hardly responded to anything
Rachel said. At lunch, Quinn hadn't sat by Rachel's side. In the
car, she wouldn't join in on the harmonies when everyone else
sang along with the radio.

"It was good of you to support Kurt like that."

"He's been a good friend. He deserves a good friend back."

Rachel nodded. Then she said, "I like this town. Everyone here
is so... free. They can just be who they are."

"Yeah, it's nice," Quinn responded perfunctorily.

Rachel mulled over her next words carefully before proceeding.

"I like how religion and freedom coexist here. Gerald Smith
tried to build something ugly and oppressive once. He tried to
build a place for people who fit a narrow mold. He tried to
twist God into something bad. But the people said no. They
said that you don't have to choose between God and love." As
she recited the words she had been rehearsing all day, her
heart was beating so wildly that she almost thought Quinn
could hear it.

"You don't ever have to choose between God and who you are.
I think that's the right way to be." She stared at Quinn
intently, watching for the slightest facial tic, watching for the
smallest sign that Quinn grasped the meaning behind her
words. But of course, a deaf, dumb and mute baboon could
understand what Rachel was trying to get at. Subtlety wasn't
Rachel's strong suit.

However, Quinn remained stoic, although she heard every

word and she understood every bit of it. The two of them had
became close. So much so that this unspoken intimacy
between them had grown, unconsciously and without
permission, into something vast and deep and nearly
incomprehensible. But it was there, and it was felt whether
they wanted to verbally acknowledge it or not. It was the pull
of a million invisible threads with ends tethered to the center
of either girl that drew them closer together with the passing
of each day; that lured their hands and limbs to touch; that
called on them to constantly seek the other out. Quinn felt it
all. And she didn't want to, not in the slightest bit.

But terrifying romantic feelings aside, these words struck a

chord with Quinn deeper than Rachel could understand. Quinn
didn't want to explain it. She didn't want to talk about it. She
just wanted to be away from it.

"What the hell would you know about it?" she snapped snidely
as she pulled herself away. She got up and started to go.

Rachel reached for her hand. "Quinn, I-"

Quinn jerked away, out of Rachel's reach.

"Get your claws off me, Man Hands," she snarled. "You need to
learn to keep that beak of yours out of other people's
business."

Rachel recoiled, burned by re-ignition of Quinn's vitriol which

had lain dormant for so long. Dormant, but never gone. As the
look of wounded betrayal crossed Rachel's face, Quinn felt the
pang of regret. Softer now, she said, "Just... please just stay
away from me."

Then she was gone before Rachel could get another word out.

***

A number of things happened in Eureka Springs that night, but

no one wanted to talk about any of them.

After Quinn left her, Rachel walked back to the B&B. Her room
was empty, so she decided to wait up for Quinn in the living
room. The others soon straggled back. The first group was
Mercedes, Kurt and Puck. Puck was sporting a black eye and a
cut lip. He was limping, and had to be supported by Mercedes
and Kurt on either side of him. Mercedes went to get ice from
the kitchen for him while Kurt helped Puck settle on the sofa.

"What happened?" Rachel asked. Puck ignored her. Actually,

he'd been ignoring her for a couple of days now. She'd be
concerned if she didn't have other, more important, blonder
things to worry about.

"He may be a neanderthal," Kurt sighed. "But he's our

neanderthal." And that was all any of them would say on the
matter. Soon, Matt and Mike entered. Matt was wearing a
mesh t-shirt and mascara. Mike was wearing lipstick and a
feather boa. They were both very, very drunk.

"Wuheppaneddaya?" Mike slurred at Puck as he fell over one of

the armchairs.

"What happened to you?" Puck returned.

Before either of them could formulate a response, in wheeled a
grinning Artie with a giggly Tina on his lap, their hairs mussed
and their clothes in disarray. There were leaves in Tina's hair,
and grass stains on her jeans. One of the lights on Artie's
wheelchair was broken. They both turned bright, bright red
when they saw everyone.

"What's the matter with you two?" Mercedes asked.

"N- n- nothing," they stammered in unison. Puck hooted.

"Way to go, Artie!" He reached out for a high-five, but as soon

as he raised his arm, he doubled over and groaned in pain.
Artie started to ask what was wrong, then spotted Mike and
Matt, then saw the miserable expression Rachel's face, and
decided that he didn't want to know after all.

They all remained in the living room trying to get stories out of
each other. Rachel joined in the conversation, but she never
diverted her attention away from the front door. Finally, in
walked Quinn. Rachel shot up, and all conversations in the
room ceased as everyone became painfully aware of the two
girls. Before Rachel could even say her name, Quinn started
for the stairs.

"No, Rachel."

Rachel stepped in front of her, blocking her passage.

"Please, if we can talk-"

Quinn might have actually resorted to physically removing

Rachel from her way if they hadn't been interrupted. With a
loud clang of the screen doors, Santana strolled into the room,
Brittany in tow. They both looked like they'd been crying, but
they were both smiling.

"Good, you're all here," Santana said, oblivious to the tense

situation she inadvertently diffused. She squeezed Brittany's
hand. "I have an announcement to make- we have an
announcement to make." She allowed for a pause. "Brittany
and I are together. As in dating. We date. We're together. As a
couple."

Silence.

Kurt broke that silence with, "I'm sorry. I'm really happy for
you guys and I heartily welcome you to the rainbow brigade,
but that's about the most anti-climactic thing we've heard all
night."

Quinn used the opportunity to squeeze past Rachel. Rachel

followed. The gathering quickly dispersed after that, and one
by one they went upstairs to bed until only Mike and Matt
remained, one sprawled out on the couch, the other on the
floor. They contemplated the events of the night.

"Eureka," Matt said.

Mike burst into a fit of giggles.

***

"You can't ride with me."

Quinn couldn't hide her surprise. Puck had always done what
she asked of him.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"No room," Puck shrugged.

"You only have two other people in your car," Quinn scoffed.
Puck's passengers were Mike and Matt, who had switched with
Artie so that Artie could ride in Kurt's car with Tina.

"Yeah, well, we also got beer and snacks and other shit."

Puck could feel Quinn's eyes on him, cold and scrutinizing. He

busied himself with the eggs on his plate. The truth was, he
didn't want her there. He didn't know if he could handle being
in such close proximity with her for hours. There was the fact
that he knew of Rachel's designs and still didn't quite know
what to do with that information. Plus, he may or may not
have some unresolved feelings for the blonde who in turn may
or may not have some kind of a... thing with Rachel. The
emotional complexities of the situation were way too much for
him to handle.

Plus, if Quinn was there, he wouldn't be able to play the Fart

the Alphabets game with Mike and Matt. They had manage to
get up to "P" yesterday.

"Fine," Quinn huffed, pushing away from the table. She

approached Mercedes and Kurt.

"Listen-"

"Mmm!" Mercedes gestured wildly, signaling for Quinn to be

quiet. Kurt was on his cell phone. He had a silly, lopsided grin
on his face, and he was nodding enthusiastically.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, that sounds great. Okay. Yeah,

definitely. Later." He ended the call and turned to Mercedes,
beaming. "He said that he might maybe consider visit Lima
before school starts." Suddenly, there was a lot of squealing.
Quinn stared in bewilderment as Mercedes and Kurt embraced
one another.

"Um..."

"Quinn!" Kurt exclaimed, noticing her presence for the first

time. He threw his arms around her too. She gave him an
awkward pat on the back. "None of this would be happening if
it weren't for you."

"None of what would be happening?"

"Me and Simon!"

"Who's Simon?"

"The boy he went out with last night! Cute, awkwardly tall,
starting college in Indianapolis in September?" Mercedes
responded with some annoyance.

"And possibly my future husband." There was a dreamy, far-

away look in Kurt's eyes. He was already picking out the
names of his future children with Simon - a pair of Chihuahuas
to be transported only in the most stylish carrying bags.

"Try and keep up, Quinn."

"I'm sorry. A lot happened last night," Quinn said sourly. "So it
went well? I thought Puck got in a fight with him or his
friends?"

"Oh, no, Puck got beat up by a-"

"Mercedes," Kurt hissed. "We promised."

"Oh. Right." Mercedes looked physically pained at not being

able to share the gossip. But honestly, Quinn didn't care that
much in the first place.

"Anyway," Quinn said. "Mercedes, I was wondering if maybe

you'd switch cars with me?"

"Are you out of your damn mind? Me in that car with Santana
and Rachel? That's going to be a bloodbath."

"Okay, Kurt, maybe you can switch-"

"Quinn, I'm super grateful for you backing me up yesterday,"

Kurt interrupted. "But no one drives my baby but me."

Quinn groaned, her frustrations mounting.

"Fine. But your car seats five, doesn't it?"

"Do you really want to be in the back with Artie and Tina?"
Mercedes asked with a raised brow. "They're in their
honeymoon period."

"I've stopped looking in the rear view mirror because I'm

afraid that I'll go blind," Kurt deadpanned.

"Why are you trying so hard to get a new ride?" Mercedes

asked. "Rachel can't be that bad, can she?"

"I don't know," Kurt mused. "She is horribly insufferable-"

"You're insufferable!" Quinn returned hotly before she could

stop herself. Taken aback, Mercedes and Kurt lost their usual
snap and could only gawk at Quinn in response. At least Quinn
was instantly contrite. "Oh, god, I- I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Kurt said slowly. He wondered whether Quinn had

learned the art of Fantastically Compelling and Inappropriate
Outbursts from Finn or whether it was the other way around.

"Just, um, forget that I said anything." Quinn turned and

hastily beat her retreat. Kurt sighed dramatically, shaking his
head.

"Repression is not a good look for that girl."

***

Tulsa, OK

Rachel received a baffling text message from Finn, instructing

her to get Artie's laptop, put on something nice and "meet"
him at an address in downtown Tulsa. If he had asked her just
one day earlier, she might have said no out of consideration for
Quinn. But since Quinn now apparently saw fit to treat Rachel
as a non-entity, Rachel thought that it was all right to satisfy
her curiosity.

Quinn was reading a magazine on the bed as Rachel got ready.

She thought that Quinn might've been only pretending to read
and watching her instead. She thought that Quinn must have
been at least a little curious as to where she was going, all
dressed up and by herself. She almost expected Quinn to ask,
but Quinn didn't. Rachel thought that was terrible typical of
their relationship.

The address downtown turned out to be an Italian restaurant.

Finn wasn't there, but when Rachel gave her name, they
immediately seated her. Two minutes later, her phone rang. It
was Finn, telling her to turn on the laptop and get on Skype.
She followed his instructions, and moments later, Finn's face
appeared on screen. She could tell from the background and
accompanying noises that he was also in a restaurant.

"Hi," he said breathlessly. His nervousness was painfully

evident. "You look pretty." There was no point in pretending
that his compliment didn't affect her. Rachel felt herself
blushing furiously as she asked,

"What's going on?"

"Well, we've been waiting for so long to have our date. It feels
like we keep putting it off." YOU keep putting it off, Rachel
thought to herself. But he already looked quite tense and she
didn't want to make him feel worse.

"And when you said the other night that you didn't know when
you'd be coming back, I just thought... well, I don't want to
wait anymore. I thought, why don't we do it now? I know that
you're there and I'm here- obviously... but, well, look." The
image on Rachel's screen moved as Finn picked up his laptop
and turned it around to show her the restaurant. "I'm sitting in
an Italian restaurant in Lima, and I picked the same kind of
food for you in Tulsa, so it's kind of like we're in the same
place together. And I gave them my credit card number so like
that's all taken care of, and I just thought we could... maybe
have our date now."

Finn's face reappeared on the appeared. If possible, he looked

even more skittish than he did before. It didn't help that
Rachel was at a loss for words. It was an incredibly sweet
gesture, and she'd been waiting for this for a long time. But
that was the problem. She'd been waiting too long. And now
there were... complications.

Finn's face fell a little as he sensed Rachel's hesitance.

"You don't like it." He resembled a wounded puppy. "This was
so stupid. I should've asked you first. I don't know why I
thought-"

"Finn," she said. He shut up instantly and waited eagerly to

hear what she had to say. This was different. This was
someone telling her that she's pretty and this was not
someone pulling away and refusing to listen. This was hard to
say no to. So all Rachel could think was, Why not?

She picked up the menu.

"I'm definitely getting dessert."

***

"Well... this is me."

They switched to phones after dinner, and they talked all

through Rachel's cab ride back to the motel. Despite whatever
intellectual shortcoming he may have, Finn was a genuinely
sweet boy and he was a good date. Rachel had a good time. It
has been a while since anyone other than her fathers fussed
over her.

"I wish I could kiss you good night," Finn now said. Rachel
didn't know how to respond to that.

"Good night," she said quietly. She got off the phone and went
inside. The other girls were already asleep. Rachel got ready
for bed in the dark and climbed in next to Quinn, who now
slept as far on the other side of the bed as possible.

"Where have you been?" came Quinn's whisper in the dark.

"Like you care," Rachel replied. She rolled over and turned her
back on the other girl.
***

Goessel, KS

At Brittany's suggestion, they traveled north to see a a replica

of the Liberty Bell made entirely of wheat.

It was exactly as exciting as it sounds.

***

Omaha, NE

"What's with you and Yentl Yeti?"

Quinn froze, her toothbrush still in her mouth. Under the

pretense of good dental hygiene, she slowly rinsed out her
mouth to delay her response. Looking at the bathroom mirror,
she could see Santana sitting on her bed. Brittany and Rachel
had gone out to raid the vending machines for midnight
snacks.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"The two of you have been all over each other this whole trip.
Then these last few days, it's like a Cold War."

"We have not been all over each other."

Santana shrugged. "You know I'm not her biggest fan. I mean,
she dresses like an Amish stripper fell into a vat of argyle."

"She's getting better," Quinn said defensively.

"Whatever." No one rolled their eyes with exasperation as well

as Santana did. "I just think it's weird that the two of you did
a complete 180. Did something happen?"

"No," Quinn replied shortly. She exited the bathroom and

crawled in under the covers. She was in no mood to discuss
this. They'd spend the day touring silly attractions in Nebraska
like the birthplace of Kool-Aid in Hastings (Matt's idea) and the
world's largest time capsule in Seward (Mercedes' idea). Now
they were in Omaha to see the world's largest ball of stamps
because, to no one's surprise, Artie was an avid philatelist.
Discussing her (non-existent!) relationship with Rachel Berry
with Santana Lopez would just be the ridiculous cherry on top
of a sundae of absurdity.

"Something happened." With a mirthless laugh, Santana

added, "And don't get me wrong - I really, really don't care
what happens between the two of you. As a matter of fact, if I
were you, I would have dropped that freakshow a long time
ago." Beneath the covers, Quinn's hands balled up into fists,
her nails digging into skin. It hurt, but that was a good thing.
Pain helped her reign in anger.

"Get to the point. I want to go to sleep some time this

century."

"You're making things awkward for everyone. Even if I don't

like her, it's obvious that you do. So whatever's up with the
two of you, make it go away."

"Santana, mind your own business." Quinn wasn't the Cheerios

captain anymore, but she had gotten so used to giving orders
that sometimes she slipped back into the habit, forgetting the
difference between friends and underlings. Santana didn't like
it one bit.

"Okay, you need to pull your head out of your-"

"You don't know," Quinn interrupted with a harsh hiss. "You

don't know what she did, okay? Stop pretending like you know
anything about it."

"Maybe I don't. But when Brittany and I-"

"This is nothing like you and Brittany," Quinn said sharply. "I'm
happy for this little lesbo paradise you've concocted for you
and Brittany, but please feel free to leave me far, far out of it."
Santana briefly contemplated murdering Quinn. But it occurred
to her that she'd never be able to clean up the body before
Brittany got back, and she knew that gross things made
Brittany upset.

"Fine. But whatever it is Berry did, she probably only did it

because she's an idiot. She's always been nice to you, even
when you had Finn wrapped around your little finger. And let's
face it, you're her new prize now, so I'm just going to guess
that she wasn't trying to hurt you with whatever it is she did.
Everything that girl does, she does for you. Personally, I think
it's totally Single White Female meets Fatal Attraction and it's
super creepy, but whatever."

Quinn didn't quite know how to respond. Part of her knew that
Santana was right, but... well, Quinn didn't like being told that
she was wrong. Least of all by Santana. She was about to hurl
an insult when Rachel and Brittany came back. Brittany
happily bounced over to Santana to give her a kiss, but Rachel
picked up on the tension.

"Is everything all right?"

Quinn just ignored her, rolled over onto her side and closed
her eyes.

***

Interstate 80

"I went to the picnic Saturday and I brought apples, a Bible,

crumbs, a dog, an elephant, a fig, a gold star, a handkerchief,
an iron, a jump rope, a kimono, a lollipop, a microphone,
nougats, an orangutan, pompoms, a quilt, a rat, a stick, tire
iron, an ultraviolet light, vaccuum, washing machine, a
xylophone, yogurt, a zampone, an abacus, chayotes, a dorsal
fin, ear muffs, flashlight, Gruyere cheese, a humidifier, iodine,
jukebox, a kumquat, a lantern, a mollusk, napkins, orange
juice, a pneumatic drill, a quesadilla, a rutabaga, steamed
clams, ukuleles, Venetian blinds, wizards, xylem, yaks and a...
a... um, a zebra!"

Silence filled the car.

"Okay, I think Brittany won the picnic game."

***

North Platte, NE

"Bakersfield."

"What?" The color had drained from Rachel's cheeks. This

involuntary admission of guilt did nothing to alleviate Puck's
simmering anger.

He'd been trying to get Rachel alone since Memphis. It was a

daunting task, seeing as how they were always surrounded.
Finally, he took the obvious option. He called Rachel's cell
phone that night and asked her to meet him alone in the motel
parking lot by his truck. Naturally, she was suspicious, but she
came anyway, in sweatpants and a bulky sweater, like she was
expecting sexual advances and wanted to appear as
undesirable as possible. Under normal circumstances, it would
have been a good strategy.

"Everyone thinks we're just having fun. They think we're not
really going anywhere. But I saw the maps, Rachel," he forced
out through gritted teeth. "I know where we're going. You're
taking her to California. You're taking her to see the baby,
aren't you?"

"I don't know what-"

"Rachel."

Her denials fell short. Once again, Rachel scrambled for

recovery. Except that it was worse this time. This was far more
personal. She wasn't going to be able to get out of this one
with an impassioned plea. This time, she was going to have to
bite the bullet.

"Yes," she admitted after a deep breath. "I'm taking Quinn to

see the baby."

Puck stared. It was all he could do. It may have been seconds,
it may have been minutes, but for Rachel it felt like an
eternity. So the inevitable explosion almost came as a relief.
Almost.

"God DAMN it, Rachel!" Puck rammed his fist against the side
of his pick-up, the metal ringing and reverberating harshly
upon contact. Rachel winced and withdrew a little. "What the
FUCK were you thinking? I know that you're now, like, fucking
gay for Fabray or whatever, but could you even stop to think
about anybody else for one second?"

Confusion crossed Rachel's face. "Noah, I don't know what-"

Her genuine ignorance made it worse. It would've been easier

if she had known what she did wrong. It would've been easier
if she had just apologized. But the fact that it didn't even occur
to her why he was so upset... well, that thought made Puck's
insides twist with fury, and his hand whipped out, seizing
Rachel's forearm. His face contorted with anger and still
bruised from whatever had happened to him in Eureka
Springs, in this moment he bore little resemblance to the Noah
Puckerman Rachel had come to know and call as a friend. She
had never seen him like this before. She realized that she had
never been this afraid of him, even in the days when they
weren't friends and he treated her to a slushie facial on a daily
basis.

"What about me, Rachel?! Did you stop to think about me? Did
you?" Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on her. She winced,
but didn't cry out. "Quinn's not the only one who lost a
daughter. Did you think that was easy for me? It's so fucking
easy for all of you to write me off as some fucking deadbeat
dad, just some fucking Lima loser while Finn's the golden boy
and Quinn's some poor lost lamb. Like you all think that I don't
give a fuck about any of this, well, I fucking do."
Puck's frenzy starting to panic her, Rachel was beginning to
struggle a little now, trying to get out of his grasp. But of
course, she was nowhere as strong.

"Did you think about how I'd feel about seeing her? Or maybe
you just fucking forgot about me?" That, Rachel had to admit,
wasn't exactly what happened, but it was close. She didn't
forget that Puck was the father. She just forgot to consider
him. She was so busy worrying about Quinn that she didn't
realize how painful this could be for him. "You can't just fuck
around with people's lives like this. This is my fucking family
we're talking about here, Rachel!"

"Noah," she pleaded. "Please, you're hurting me."

It took a moment for the truth of her statement to sink, but

once it did, Puck went slack almost instantly. He dropped his
hand away from Rachel's forearm, which was now red and
already swelling. The rage faded from his expression. He
looked utterly stricken.

"Rachel, I'm-" But he couldn't. Even as the shame rapidly

accumulated within him, he couldn't apologize to her - not
now. He shoved his hands into his pockets and drew a deep,
unsteady breath. "I'm gonna..."

He retreated, his steps light and uncertain like a man in a

daze. Rachel stood in the parking lot alone, feeling the
throbbing pain in her arm, wondering how she'd managed to
make such a terrible, awful mess out of everything.
---

"Mmm. Bacon."

There were a number of things that Rachel would have

expected Puck to say to her the next morning. "Bacon" was
not one of them. Although, in retrospect, it should've been. He
stood beside her at the breakfast buffet, peering into a metal
container of crispy bacon. He picked up a couple of strips with
the tongs and proffered them to Rachel. She held out her plate
in acceptance.
"Think this makes us bad Jews?"

"I believe that adherence to nonsecular laws are subject to

personal interpretations of religious texts which obviously can
produce a variety of opinions; what's truly important is your
own peace of mind."

It was obvious that Puck had been expecting a yes-or-no

answer. She picked up her tray and moved on down the line.
She started to reach for the eggs, but Puck beat her to the
punch, grabbing the spoon and ladling a generous portion on
to her plate.

"Thank you, Noah."

Puck nodded. Then said, "So last night was kind of messed
up."

"Yes, it was."

"Your arm hurt?"

"Yes, it does." She was still wearing her sweater in order to

cover up the bruising.

Puck nodded again. It seemed as if he didn't know what to

say. Apologies didn't come easily to him. Or at all, actually.
Rachel went to sit at a table, and Puck followed her. He sat
down without asking her if he could. It was still early, and they
were the only people there. The other members of their group
were certainly still asleep. Rachel always woke up at six a.m.
every morning for breakfast and exercise. It occurred to her
that Puck must have woke up early this morning just to talk to
her. They ate their breakfasts together in silence. Puck didn't
say anything until they were both done.

"So I got beat up by a girl."

"What?" First bacon, now this. Puck was certainly on some

strange tangents this morning.
"In Eureka Springs. That's why I was all messed up. I got beat
up by a girl." He looked physically pained just saying the
words.

"Oh."

"I was talking to this chick at the place Kurt took us to. I made
a move, but turned out that she had a girlfriend and the
girlfriend got all upset. Then I kind of said some stuff, so we
got into it." Rachel knew Puck, and guessed that he had
probably said a lot more than just 'some stuff'. She also
marveled at his ability to be continuously drawn to girls who
obviously liked other girls, but she wasn't about to say that to
him. She would like for her other arm to remain unbruised.

"Did you hit her?"

"She hit me first," Puck replied defensively. "But... no. Not

really. I mean, I tried, but she was fast like a freak and I was
on the ground before I could do anything. I think she had like
karate training or something."

"Oh."

"Anyway, um... Kurt and Mercedes had to stop her. And I,

um... I kind of..." Puck was fidgeting nervously in his seat. He
cranked his neck around the room, checking to see if there
was anyone nearby. Of course, there wasn't. He leaned in and
started talking in a low tone. "I kind of, maybe... had... a
little..." He took a deep breath, like he was trying to psych
himself up. "I may have... ah..."

"What?"

"...cried." The word came out so soft that Rachel wasn't sure
whether she had heard him correctly at first.

"What?"

"I wasn't bawling or anything," Puck said quickly, and then

Rachel definitely knew that she had heard him correctly. "I had
a lot - a lot - to drink that night and I was really just god
damn tired. And let me tell you, that girl had some moves. It
fucking hurt! Also, it was like one tear."

"You... cried," Rachel repeated, a little stunned at the thought.

She didn't think that Puck was physically capable of it.

"Just a little. It was barely.." Puck shook his head. "Anyway, I

told Kurt and Mercedes that I'd tear them apart limb from limb
if they told anyone. But now you know. So if you wanted to go
and tell people, announce it on your little MySpace videos or
whatever..." His shrug was marked with tension. "I mean,
that'd be okay."

Rachel realized that this wasn't a tangent. This was Puck's way
of apologizing. Instead of saying the words "I'm sorry" like a
normal human being would, he instead chose to tell her about
what was probably the most humiliating experience he's ever
had in his young, testosterone-dominated, ego-driven life. This
was his peace offering. He was giving Rachel the opportunity
to get even.

"Thank you, Noah," she said politely. "Your secret's safe with
me."

He smiled. "That's cool."

"And I need to offer you an apology as well. I really should

have consulted you before-"

"Forget it." Puck waved his hand dismissively. "What's done is

done. I guess if I really wanted to stop you, I would've told
Quinn what you were doing back in Memphis. But I didn't, and
I won't."

"Thanks," Rachel said quietly.

"But you know that this is a terrible idea, right?"

"You're not the first person to tell me that."

"Who else knows?"

"Finn."

"Great," Puck muttered. "Well, I guess you don't have to worry

about him telling Quinn."

"No."

"But this is a bad idea." Not that it wasn't appealing to Puck.

He had his own selfish reasons. After he had gotten over his
initial outrage, he had to admit that he wanted to see the baby
too. He still thought that keeping this from Quinn was a bad
idea, but on the other hand, 'bad ideas' and Puck were not
strangers. After all, he had gotten his best friend's girlfriend
drunk and knocked her up. Deceiving Quinn in order to see his
daughter wasn't out of his broad moral bounds.

"I know it seems crazy," Rachel said tranquily. "But I know

what I'm doing."

"I hope so." Puck looked at her, almost shyly. "So... are we
cool?"

Rachel smiled at him, and touched her hand to his arm.

"We're cool."

Puck clasped his hand over hers and held it there. In that
moment, Rachel remembered why she liked him and briefly
wondered whether things could have been different between
them. Sometimes, Puck was a genuinely good guy. He was
almost even... sweet. Puck squeezed her hand and then
sprang to his feet.

"All right, well, I'm gonna head back to my room," he said. "I
gotta birth a turd before we hit the road."

***

Alliance, NE
"This is the greatest thing I've ever seen," Mike said, awed.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever seen," Mercedes said,

bored.

They were standing in an open field where dozens of cars were

spray-painted gray, arranged in a circle and made to resemble
Stonehenge. Some of the cars rose out of the ground like a
monstrous growth. This place was appropriately called
Carhenge. The kids were divided on how they felt about it.

"You cretins. You don't understand art," Kurt sniffed.

"This isn't art," Tina said, even though - oddly enough - it had
been her suggestion to come here in the first place. "It's a
junkyard."

"Mmm-hmm." Mercedes held out her open palm, and Tina

brushed it with her own in a show of solidarity. Kurt rolled his
eyes, and looked to Artie for support. Artie shook his head
fervently. He was not getting in the middle of this. (But yes, he
did think that the cars were really cool.)

"You do have to wonder about the environmental impacts,"

Rachel offered.

"No one's wondering about that but you," Puck told her.

"I don't like it," Brittany opined.

"Brit, you don't like anything that has less than seven colors,"
Quinn replied, and Brittany nodded enthusiastically in full
agreement of that statement. "I think it's cool."

"That's because this place is as bleak and depressing as you

are," Santana said. "No offense."

***

Kimball, NE
Another night, another roadside motel, another party in Puck's
room.

Rachel begged off to stay behind in her room so that she could
talk to Finn on the phone. They'd been talking everyday since
their "video date", sometimes twice a day. Every night before
they got off the phone, he told her that he wished he could
kiss her good night. Rachel wasn't sure what this meant, if
they were dating or still just friends or something in between.
It wasn't clearly defined, but she was happy to leave it that
way.

They talked for forty-five minutes, and when she got off the
phone, she went to take a shower. She had been consciously
keeping the bruise on her arm covered all day long, even
though the sweater was stifling in the summer heat. But now
that she had the room to herself, she didn't think twice about
stepping out of the bathroom with just a towel on. However, as
fate would have it, she was no longer alone.

Quinn was sitting on the bed, her face flushed red with
alcohol. She had too much to drink, and she had only wanted
to come back to the room to lie down. She didn't expect to be
confronted with a wet, towel-clad Rachel Berry.
Understandably, she didn't notice the bruise right away. Her
eyes were lingering on other parts of Rachel's body.

"Quinn," Rachel said, startled by the blonde's presence. "I

didn't expect you back so early." And that's when Quinn saw it.

"What happened to your arm?"

"Oh." Rachel shied away, tucking her arm behind her back.
"It's nothing. I had a rash. I fell. I had a rash and then I fell."
Rachel was an unfortunate liar.

"You didn't have that yesterday," Quinn asserted.

"Yes, I did," Rachel answered quickly. "I've had this forever."

"No, you definitely didn't," the blonde insisted. Then she

started piecing it together. "You got that call from Puck last
night. You went to meet him." Quinn hadn't bothered asking
Rachel anything about that meeting. It would've defeated the
whole purpose of trying to distance herself from Rachel. Quinn
only knew because they shared a room and she had overheard
the phone call.

Her initial reaction was disbelief. Puck would never do anything

like that. He couldn't. She knew him. But there it was: a red,
swollen, ugly shape upon Rachel's arm with distinct
fingermarks. Someone had grabbed her, someone had hurt
her, and as far as she knew, the only person Rachel saw last
night was Puck. As realization sunk in, the disbelief turned into
horror. Then rage. A lot of rage. Rachel saw the transformation
on her face, clear as day.

"Quinn, no," Rachel started to say. "It's not what you-"

But Quinn was already out the door, tearing down the hallway.

She came to Puck's door and banged on the door until Mike let
her in. Puck was in the middle of doing a shot with Brittany. He
smirked when he saw Quinn.

"Back for more, Fabray?" he raised the shot glass to her in the
gesture of a toast. Quinn certainly was in no mood for that.
She went straight for him. Quinn wasn't a big girl, but she
commanded presence when she was angry. Puck would have
stepped back if he wasn't already leaning against the wall. All
conversations in the room ceased.

"What did you do?" Her voice was cold with barely repressed
anger. Puck's face fell. He immediately knew what she was
talking about.

"She told you?"

For Quinn, that was as good an admission as any. She felt a

tremor, white, hot and blinding, and before she knew what she
was doing, she drew her arm back and administered a sharp
blow to Puck's face. The slap rang out clear and loud. Puck
took the slap passively. He felt like he deserved it.
"How could you?" She felt tears involuntarily pricking in her
eyes. "You son of a bitch. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Quinn," he said delicately. "Listen-"

He tried to put a hand on her elbow. That only seemed to

make her angrier. She jerked away, then returned with balled-
up fists, beating them against Puck's head, chest and
shoulders.

"You asshole," Quinn spat out. "You fucking asshole."

Puck was big and pretty strong, and Quinn wasn't, but he had
to admit that her strikes hurt. He raised his hands, trying to
shield himself as best he can, but he didn't try to stop her.
Quinn only stopped when someone else forced her to. As she
drew her hand back, she felt a hand tightly grab on to her
wrist. She turned, ready to unleash her fury on the interferer,
until she saw who it was.

"Stop," Rachel pleaded, keeping a firm grip on Quinn. "Quinn,

it's not what you think. Please, just... just come with me." She
had ran out of the room after Quinn after hastily pulling on a t-
shirt and shorts. She didn't have time to dry off, and her damp
clothes now clung tightly to the curves of her body. It was a
view that the boys in the room (and let's face it, more than a
couple of the girls) would have appreciated under different
circumstances.

Quinn nodded numbly, and allowed herself to be led away,

leaving Puck temporarily forgotten and under the scrutiny of
their bewildered friends.

Rachel ushered Quinn back into their room. As soon as they

were inside, Quinn turned to Rachel, gingerly taking a hold of
the brunette's bruised arm. She examined it closely, delicately
running her fingers over the discolored skin.

"We should get you some ice."

"It's fine," Rachel assured her. "You need to know that he

didn't mean to do it. It was just a misunderstanding."

"I don't care," Quinn seethed. Rachel had no doubt that Quinn
would turn around and go right back to assailing Puck if Rachel
would only let her. And as much as Rachel didn't want that to
happen, she had to admit that the thought of Quinn getting
this worked up over her was... enticing.

"We had a silly fight, but we talked about it this morning, and
he apologized. He felt terrible about it. We're okay now,"
Rachel explained. "Besides, while I appreciate the sentiment, I
really don't need you to defend me. I'm perfectly capable of
taking care of myself."

"But it's my fault," Quinn said miserably.

Rachel looked at her, mystified. "What are you talking about?"

"When he called you last night, I knew that he was up to

something. I should have told you not to go, but I was
being..." she trailed off. They both knew perfectly well how
Quinn had been acting these past few days.

"Like I said. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"But you take care of me." Quinn nervously bit at her bottom
lip. She was still holding on to Rachel's arm. "You always take
care of me."

"Yes, well... you're my friend," Rachel replied softly.

"But I haven't been a very good friend to you."

Rachel shrugged helplessly. "You're trying. I know you are."

Quinn drew a deep breath. "I need to try harder." She slid her
hands down from Rachel's arm to her hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. But I'm going to make it okay," Quinn said. "I
want us to be friends again." It wasn't hard for Rachel to catch
the implications of that. Friends. Just friends. Rachel forced
down the lump building in her throat.

"Whatever you want," she managed to say. Quinn moved in

and embraced her. After a brief moment of hesitation, Rachel
reciprocated, encircling her arms around the blonde's waist.
Quinn could smell the scent of soap and shampoo. She could
feel the dampness of Rachel's clothes. She was suddenly
acutely, painful aware of just how thin the layer of fabric was
that separated her from Rachel's naked body. It was probably
a good thing that she didn't get the opportunity to dwell on the
thought. A knock at the door roused the girls from their
intimate moment. Quinn opened the door, knowing exactly
who she'd find. And sure enough, there was Puck in the
doorway, his thumbs hooked in his pockets, a hangdog
expression on his face.

"So I got beat up by a girl in Eureka Springs."

***

For once at breakfast, no one was crying, glowering, fighting

or sulking. Puck gave everyone an abbreviated version of what
had happened: he and Rachel had a fight, Rachel was
inadvertently injured, Quinn gave him a deserved beating, but
now all was well. They accepted the story without too many
questions. After all, this was supposed to be a vacation and
even these teenagers had a limit as to how much drama they
could handle. They were just happy that Rachel and Quinn
were friends again. The more time those two spent together,
the less time they had to annoy everyone else.

Everything was peaceful.

Until lunchtime.

***
Fort Collins, CO

"I have to go home." Tina was standing at the end of the

table, looking nervous and fidgety. Artie was next to her,
holding her hand and trying to keep her calm. He had told her
repeatedly that it would be all right, but she felt guilty
nonetheless. "I just talked to my mom. She's starting to get
mad. She wants me back right away."

A hushed pall fell over the group. They'd been expecting this.
They'd been gone two weeks now. A few of them had similar
conversations with their own parents with varying degrees of
intensity. This moment had to come sooner or later. Rachel
was, as always, prepared.

"I see," Rachel said calmly. "Is anyone else having problems
with their parents?" With some hesitation, Mercedes raised her
hand. Then Kurt. Then Matt. Rachel looked to the ones who
didn't raise their hands. Mike shrugged. Puck nodded at her,
but she already knew that he would stay. Her eyes landed on
Brittany and Santana. Brittany seemed uncertain, so she did
what she always did when she wasn't sure - she looked at
Santana, leaving her to make the decision for both of them.
Santana considered the situation. She glanced at Quinn, who
was sitting demurely, staring down at her hands in her lap.
She made up her mind.

"We can stay," Santana said firmly.

"This will work out well then," Rachel said. "Kurt, I know that
it's a tight fit, but you can take Mercedes, Matt, Tina and Artie
back to Lima. The rest of us-"

"Actually," Artie ventured. "I'd like to stay." His statement was

regarded as a surprise by everyone except Tina. They had all
assumed that Artie would go with Tina. But the two of them
had discussed it, and they decided that one of them should be
there for Quinn. After all, if it weren't for her, who knows how
long it would have taken Artie to work up the courage to
declare his feelings?

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked.

"Like you said," Artie answered, an easy smile on his face. "It's
a tight fit, especially with all our luggage and this." He tapped
the side of his wheelchair.

"You guys don't have to..." Quinn started weakly, but faltered.
She tried again. "It's really not that bad..." It's really not that
bad at home, she wanted to say. But she couldn't bring herself
to say the words. God knows that Quinn's never had an
aversion to lies, but this one hurt a little too much.

"What are you babbling on about?" Santana snapped at her.

"Seriously," Puck scoffed. "Life is sweet out here. What the hell
is there to do in Lima?"

"I'm just here to have fun," Mike piped up.

"Don't delude yourself, Fabray," sneered Santana. "Nobody

here cares about you that much."

As the tears welled in her eyes and all her friends found
something else to focus on so that they could pretend like they
didn't see, Quinn thought that she never loved them as much
as she did right then.

***

Boulder, CO

Puck insisted that they now had to party twice as hard to

make up for a third of the group being gone. Rachel tried to
point out the mathematical and logical flaws of his statement,
but he just shoved a shot of Jim Beam in her face.

An hour later, Rachel was in the bathroom with Quinn, but no

bathtubs this time. Rachel was on the bathroom counter,
sitting adjacent to the sink where Quinn was splashing water
on her face. Through the walls, they heard Puck, Artie and
Santana cheering as Mike and Brittany had their third dance-
off of the night.

"Oh, god," Quinn moaned. "They never stop."

"Do you feel ill?" Rachel asked. "We can head back to the room
if you'd like."

Quinn shook her head. "No, I just... I just get overwhelmed by

people and noises sometimes when I drink."

Rachel chuckled. "That's become perfectly apparent to me."

"It's a good thing I have you to keep me company." Quinn

stepped closer, casually placing her hand upon Rachel's leg. It
was more friendly than suggestive, but nonetheless Rachel felt
a pleasurable flutter in her lower half. She'll blame it on the
alcohol for now. "You're a good friend, Rach."

"You're not so bad yourse-" Wait, there was something else

she wanted to say. "Did you just call me Rach?"

It was a fairly simple question, but Quinn took a pause before

answering.

"I guess I did. Is that bad?"

"No," Rachel answered with a faint smile. "I think I like it."

Quinn returned her smile. It felt like a good moment for a hug,
so that's what she did, moving in until her arms were fully
wrapped around Rachel's torso. Her chin rested on the
brunette's shoulder. Last night Rachel had smelled of soap and
shampoo, fresh and clean like something Quinn couldn't
pollute if she had tried. Tonight, it was nothing so sterile; the
scent was like shampoo or body spray and booze and sweat
and skin and the road and grass on a sunny day and snow on
Christmas night and the wind by the seashore and everything
that was good and real. And suddenly Quinn felt it again, that
feral tug of pure unadulterated want.

She pulled away. Not very far. Just enough so she can look
Rachel in the eyes. She reached up to tuck an errant brown
lock behind Rachel's ear, then her hand trailed down along her
cheek, down to her jawline. It seemed as if everything in the
world has stopped. Slowly but not hesitatingly, Quinn leaned
in, and lightly pressed her closed lips against Rachel's. It was
so soft that it barely felt like a kiss; more like a tickle or a
brush. Rachel only sat there, not responding but not rejecting
either. When Quinn pulled away again, the confusion was
evident in Rachel's eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" Rachel's voice came out so small
and hoarse that it didn't even sound like her anymore.

"I don't know," Quinn whispered. Then she drifted in again,

and kissed Rachel once more, a little longer and with a bit
more intensity. And this definitely felt like a kiss, chaste
though it was. However tame, it left Rachel quivering when
they parted.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked again. Quinn looked back
at her. With her hazel eyes glistening and her voice a broken
whisper, she said,

"I can't help myself." With that, her body began to tremble
and the hot tears erupted, spilling over the brim and sliding
down her cheeks.

Rachel did the only thing she could think of. She kissed Quinn,
and slowly parted her lips until their tongues languorously met
and melded in a slow waltz.

***

The next morning, it was as if nothing had ever happened.

Quinn wasn't distant. She wasn't absent. She was so

effortlessly friendly to Rachel without a trace of awkwardness
that Rachel started to wonder if she hadn't imagined the whole
thing.

But then it happened again that night under almost the exact
same circumstances, just at a different motel in a different
town (Trinidad, CO). It became a nightly ritual. When everyone
else has gotten too drunk to care or notice, Quinn would drag
Rachel into the bathroom and the two of them would kiss until
one or both of them became too tired to keep going. Then
they would stagger back to their own room and pass out in
bed together.

In the morning, Quinn wasn't distant, she wasn't absent, and

it's just as if nothing had happened.

***

U.S. Route 87

"Punch buggy!"

"No, Brittany. Just... no."

***

Amarillo, TX

At the Big Texan Steak Ranch in Amarillo, Texas, they offered a

challenge to anyone foolish enough to take it. A free meal was
offered to anyone who could finish a dinner of a 72-ounce
steak along with bread, baked potato, shrimp cocktail and
salad within an hour.

"It just doesn't seem to be worth the $72.00," Rachel said

disapprovingly.

"You're not a dude. You don't understand," Puck replied. "It's

not about the money, Rachel." He, Mike and Brittany sat on a
raised platform in the middle of the restaurant, ready to
partake in this modern day freakshow. This whole venture had
been Mike's idea, who had convinced them all to drive down to
Amarillo specifically for this gut-busting, artery-clogging
suicide-by-steak mission. Puck and Mike tried to get Artie to
do it with them but fortunately, Artie had a brain.

"But I'm not a dude," Brittany said.

"You're a hot chick who thinks like a dude," Puck told her.
"Which is better than a dude."

"I'm only saying that this appears to be a lot of time and effort
that could used on better things," Rachel stated.

"Berry," Puck said dryly. "You separate your underwear by

color and material."

"Organization is important!"

"Why do you know how Rachel sorts her underwear?" Santana

asked Puck with some displeasure.

"We had a thing."

"For like two seconds," Santana huffed. "We dated for four
months and you still don't know my dad's name."

"Four?" Quinn arched a brow. "I thought it was two."

"I'm counting other stuff."

"Oh, like the sexting stuff after you guys broke up while he
was trying to get with me and you were with Brittany?"

"Can we not do this right now? I need to focus!" Puck barked

nervously. He was eyeing the steak they were bringing out of
the kitchen. All four-and-a-half pounds of it. "Oh, god." Puck
looked a little pale. Mike looked positively giddy.

"I'll get the throw-up bucket ready for you," Quinn said
cheerfully.

"I've made a huge mistake."

***

Brittany ate half of her steak before she started to look sick
and Santana made her stop.

Puck ate his steak, but lost when he couldn't stomach the
baked potato.

Mike finished everything and then asked what was for dessert.

For once, there was no drinking that night. Instead, they

gathered in Puck's room, alternatively passing him the Pepto-
Bismol and mocking him as he periodically dashed into the
bathroom.

"I'm swearing off food forever!" Puck bellowed as he hovered

over the toilet bowl.

"I could really go for a Kit Kat right now," Mike said.

"I saw them in the vending machine," Artie volunteered

helpfully.

"Awesome. Hey, Puckerman, you want one?"

"Fuck you all!"

Quinn took a bottle of vodka and Rachel's hand; the two of

them slipped out the room and back to their own. They drank
a fifth of the bottle and made out in their bed that night.

Rachel's skin burned; she couldn't tell whether it was from the
alcohol or Quinn, although she suspected that it was a
combination of both. With every lap of Quinn's tongue against
hers, she felt a slow burn incrementally gathering in her lower
half. Her undulating hips sought contact with Quinn's,
desperate to alleviate the maddening heat. Above her, Quinn
moaned, bucking her hips downwards in kind. Rachel, who
usually kept her hands politely at Quinn's waist and over the
clothes, now felt emboldened to slip one hand underneath
Quinn's shirt. With a guttural grunt, Quinn kissed her harder,
tangling one hand in Rachel's hair to bring the brunette in
closer. Rachel inched her hand up, cupping the swell of Quinn's
breasts through her bra. As her thumb gazed over a hardened
peak, Quinn pulled back with a startled gasp.

"What's wrong?" Rachel tried to restrain the tone of panic in

her voice because she knew perfectly well what was wrong.
Her hand retreated from Quinn's soft, inviting flesh and came
to rest again on Quinn's waist, over the clothes. "Was that too
much?"

Quinn nodded, a worried and anxious expression on her face.

"I can't."

Rachel nodded in understanding. But she still felt compelled to

ask,

"Can't... ever?"

Quinn bit the bottom of her lip, her brows furrowed in puzzled
concentration.

"Can't... now," she said slowly. "I think." Rachel nodded again.

"I understand."

Quinn's frown gave way to a relaxed smile as she brought her

lips down against Rachel's once more. They made out until
Rachel grew tired, and fell asleep in Quinn's arms, her head
tucked beneath the blonde's chin.

The next morning, it was still as if nothing had happened.

***

Abilene, TX

"We need to help them."

"No, we don't."

"But S..."

"No, Brittany," Santana told her girlfriend firmly. "No." They

were in the middle of a busy diner. The group had decided to
split up for lunch when Rachel decided that she wanted to try
sashimi in the middle of landlocked Texas.

"They're doing the same things that we were doing before,"

Brittany whined with a slight pout. "And aren't we happier now
than before?"

"We're not them. We're nowhere as dysfunctional as they are."

"And don't you think that's like a cry for help?"

"Believe me, Quinn doesn't want our help."

Brittany made a sad face. "But I think they'd be so much

happier if they could be like us and do girlfriend stuff."

Santana sighed. She hated seeing Brittany upset, but this was
one whim that she couldn't indulge. She took the blonde's
hand in hers.

"Sweetie, I know that you want everyone to be happy, but

that's just not the way things work, okay? There are some
things that you can't fix. Trust me when I say that no one can
fix Quinn Fabray. She doesn't want to be saved; she wants to
drown."

Brittany frowned. "But Quinn can swim. I've seen her."

Santana decided to try again. "I mean that I think Quinn's

happier being unhappy."

The frown only deepened. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I know." Santana squeezed her hand lightly. "But that's

Quinn."
"Santana?"

"Yeah, Brit?"

"I'm glad that you're happy being happy."

"Me too, Brit."

"I love you."

Santana smiled in response, and drew the blonde in for a kiss.

"I love you too," she muttered softly against Brittany's lips.

Artie leaned over the table and whispered to Mike.

"They do know that we're sitting right here? I mean, they can
see us?"

"Shh." Mike's eyes were slightly glazed, transfixed at the

kissing girls. "Don't ruin it."

***

Interstate 45

Rachel drove as Quinn rode shotgun; Brittany and Santana

slept soundly in the backseat, Brittany's head against
Santana's shoulder. Rachel and Quinn sang along to a familiar
song playing on the radio, while Rachel tapped out the beat on
the steering wheel. When the song ends, Quinn reached over
and turned down the volume.

"I don't know if I like that song."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, he's singing about how much he wants this girl back,
but he only wants her back because she's with someone else.
There's also the line that goes, 'those pretty faces always
made you stand out in a crowd.' It's like he's saying she's ugly.
What is that?" Quinn huffed. "Also, Michael Jackson was like
ten when he sang this song. That's creepy."

"I think it means that she's more than that to him," Rachel
said, although she sounded a little uncertain. "The others are
nothing but superficial distractions. Pure physical attraction
isn't a sound basis for a relationship."

"But he still only wants her because someone else has her."

"I like to think that the other man is merely a catalyst. The
song's protagonist would have inevitably realized his error,"
Rachel answered. "Sometimes it just takes a little push for
someone to realize what they've been missing. It's a sweet
apology. I think it's romantic."

Quinn arched a brow.

"You've fantasized about someone singing this to you, haven't

you?"

Rachel colored slightly. "Maybe," she muttered.

"Are we talking about anyone in particular?"

Rachel glanced at Quinn out of the corner of her eye, then

quickly turned her attention back on to the road.

"Like who?"

"Like Finn." There's an edge to Quinn's tone, masked dull and

soft beneath a veil of feigned casualness. "You've thought
about him singing this to you?"

Rachel contemplated her answer before replying. She could

feel Quinn's gaze on her, heated and focused, which made it all
the more difficult to think.

"Maybe. Once. A few times. A while ago," she responded

carefully. "Although there were always some logical flaws in
that arrangement seeing as how he never had me in the first
place."

Quinn felt something squirming and twisting in the pit of her

stomach, a stifling, prickling burn spreading through her body
and crawling up the back of her throat. She shifted
uncomfortably in her seat and drew a deep breath to soothe
the weight of it. Still, she couldn't help the words from spilling
out:

"Why are you obsessed with him?"

"Why are you?"

"I'm not the one-"

"You keep bringing him up, Quinn. And I understand if you

want to talk about him, but don't blame me for it," Rachel said
calmly. "As far as I'm concerned, this car is a Finn-Free Zone."

Quinn was quiet. Then she said, "Okay."

"Okay," Rachel echoed.

"But I still think that it's creepy for a ten-year-old to sing that
song."

Rachel laughed softly, and said, "I fully concur."

***

Huntsville, TX

Puck thought that it would be a fantastic idea to visit the Texas

Prison Museum.

Brittany started crying when she saw the electric chair.

Santana promptly insisted that they leave at once.

"But I didn't get to see the contraband exhibit," Puck

complained. "They have some really bad-ass shivs." Brittany,
who had earlier made the terrible mistake of asking Puck what
a shiv was and what it was used for, cried even harder.
Santana folded her arms across her chest. She was, to put it
mildly, displeased.

"I have a proposal," she said icily. "All those in favor of

banning Puck from making another suggestion again on this
trip, raise your hands." Only Brittany raised her hand. Santana
politely cleared her throat. "I said all those in favor, raise your
god damn hands!"

The others all quickly raised their hands, including Puck.

"Then it's decided. No more suggestions from Puck," Santana

dictated smoothly. "Now. We're all going to go get ice cream."

Brittany clapped her hands together and beamed, all traces of

sadness gone.

***

Oklahoma City, OK

"How are we back in Oklahoma?" Artie asked. It was just the

boys in their room that night.

"I think we drove," Mike deadpanned.

"But, I mean..." Artie frowned. "Does anyone else feel like we

just drove around in a really big circle? We're only two hours
from Tulsa."

"Leave it alone, Artie," Puck said lazily.

"But we were in Tulsa like a week ago," Artie persisted. "Or

maybe that was two weeks ago." It was easy to lose track of
time on the road.

"Who cares, dude?"

"I want to be there for Quinn, but... how long can we keep this
up for? We have to go back to Lima at some point, right?"

"Look, you got a problem with being here, you can just wheel
yourself back to Ohio," Puck snapped. "We don't need you."
Artie shrunk back, and Puck felt a little bit bad, but not bad
enough to show it.

"Easy," Mike intervened. "Artie's got a point."

"Just relax, all right? We got this."

"Who's we?" Mike asked. "You and Rachel?"

Puck certainly didn't want to answer that.

"Hey, you guys think I like this? I want to go back too. At least
I can score in Lima. I'm horny as shit," he groused. Four girls,
and NONE of them wanted to sleep with him. It was just
fucked up. "Artie's the only one who's gotten laid on this trip."

"Speak for yourself," Mike mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," Mike said quickly. "Where are the girls tonight

anyway?"

"Guess," Artie said dryly.

"Huh." Mike was contemplative. "You guys think it's weird that
two-thirds of the girls in glee club are lesbians?"

"They're not lesbians!" Puck sounded oddly defensive. "And if

they are, so what? It's nobody's fault." Mike and Artie stared
at him. Then they figured it out.

"Oh, because you were with three of them," Artie said.

"Four," Puck muttered.

"Brittany?!" Artie and Mike exclaimed in unison.

"It was like at one party freshman year. We only made out. No
big deal." Then he added, rather anxiously, "Don't tell
Santana, okay?"

"Four for four." Artie sounded awed. "That has to be a record."

"Shut up," Puck growled.

"Don't feel bad." Mike patted Puck on the back like he was a
little kid. "I'm sure it happens to a lot of guys. No one else
that I know, but lots of guys, I'm sure."

"Shut up!"

"It's not your fault." Artie was genuinely trying to be helpful.

"A lot of people experiment in high school, and with the
number of girls you sleep with, statistically speaking-"

"SHUT UP!"

"You know that you can't convert them, right?" Mike teased.
"It's a valiant effort, but that there is no man's land."

"Maybe he has a hidden feminine side," Artie suggested. "He

was always gently graceful when he used to stuff me into
portable toilets."

"I'll stuff your head into a toilet right now if you don't shut
up!"

Artie just grinned in response to Puck's threat. Puck kind of

missed the days when he could make people cower with only a
glare.

"Maybe Puck's half-lesbian," Mike said.

"He does like wearing flannel."

"And I caught him listening to Melissa Etheridge once."

"And he has that pick-up truck."

"Dude," Mike now said to an increasingly agitated Puck. "You'd
make an awesome lesbian."

"But not a pretty one," Artie added.

"Oh, god," Puck moaned. "Fuck you all."

***

Liberal, KS

"I wish I could kiss you good night."

"That's sweet."

And it was. The first eleven times she heard it. Now - as much
as it made her feel guilty to admit - it was getting old. Talking
on the phone with Finn had gotten harder, especially since now
she and Quinn had developed the habit of drunkenly making
out and then passing out together in bed. But Rachel still
managed to schedule in "phone time" with Finn, or "video
time" when she could get to Artie's laptop. She might not have
tried so hard if he didn't call her so often. But he did, and she
found it impossible not to reciprocate. She got the sense that
Finn was lonely in Lima. So every night, when the girls headed
over to Puck's room, Rachel always found some excuse to stay
behind for half an hour or so, and she'd talk to Finn. If any of
them suspected, no one said anything.

"So..." Finn said slowly. "What are you wearing?"

"My yellow and pink diamond pattern shirt and a black skirt,"
Rachel replied automatically. "Why?"

"I was just..." Finn coughed lightly. "I was just thinking about
running my hand along your thigh... and um, uh, up that s-
skirt."

"Oh," Rachel said, a little bewildered. "Okay. That sounds...

lovely."

"Really?" Finn took her at face value, and his voice perked up.
With a little more confidence now, he added, "I'm kissing you.
And my hand is on, um, your... waist."

"Are you sure? You don't sound sure."

"My hand is on your waist," he said firmly. "I'm kissing your

neck now. Sucking on it lightly. My hand's going inside your
shirt."

"I don't know if we should do this."

"Why not?" Finn sounded a little hurt. "You're so far away,

Rachel, and I... I miss you."

"But we've never done anything like this in person," Rachel

tried to ignore how it made her feel when he said I miss you.
"It feels weird to do this over the phone."

"Can't we try?" When Rachel didn't respond right away, Finn

took a bold step. He mustered up all the courage he had,
recalled all his sexual frustrations, channeled his inner Puck
and added, "I get so turned on when I hear your voice. I'm
already hard." He immediately felt embarrassed. But it was too
late to take it back.

"Oh," Rachel answered, stunned. She felt awkward and

uncomfortable, and yet, at the same time - and if she was
being completely honest - more than a little turned on. It was
all very confusing. So Rachel did what she did best when she
was confused. She enumerated. She made up a quick mental
list of the pros and cons of having phone sex with Finn.

Pro: She liked Finn.

Con: She really liked Quinn.

Pro: Nightly make-out sessions with Quinn has turned her into
one gigantic hormonal mess.
Con: She had nightly make-out sessions with Quinn.

Pro: Rachel liked trying new things. She would be trying new
things with Quinn if she thought that Quinn would let her. As it
was, they never ventured beyond drunken kissing and light
over-the-clothes groping.

Con: It didn't seem fair to make Finn the back-up.

Pro: Finn wasn't shy about wanting her whereas Quinn didn't
even want to acknowledge what they did.

Con: She really liked Quinn.

Disturbed by the ongoing silence and terrified by the notion

that Rachel was never going to speak to him again, Finn said
hurriedly,

"I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. We don't have
to do any of this. I'm so sorry." He sounded eager for her
approval - desperate for it. For Rachel Berry, who had spent
the better part of last year trailing him like a lost puppy, it was
a powerful, intoxicating feeling.

So after a moment's hesitation, she now said,

"Tell me again where your hands are."

He did. He told her more than that as her hand waded south.

Afterwards, she said goodbye to Finn and then lay in bed,

feeling simultaneously sated and dissatisfied. Rachel wondered
if this could be considered cheating, and if so, who exactly she
was cheating on and who she was cheating with.

Springer, NM

It had to happen sooner or later.

"We have to go home." Brittany looked incredibly dejected. It's

been a week since the others left. It's been one day shy of
three weeks since they left Lima.
"We can't keep up anymore," Santana said. "It's been fun, but
we're burning a hole through our savings." Mike nodded
gravely.

"And I miss Tina." Artie said miserably.

"I understand." Rachel remained peaceful and unperturbed.

"Noah?"

"I'm cool."

"Very well. This will be simple. In the morning, Santana will

take Brittany, Mike and Artie back to Lima. The rest of us can
continue on-"

"Rachel," Artie broke in. "Why don't you guys just come back
with us?" Quinn decided that this was a good time to play with
her food. She pushed her peas around her dinner plate,
resolutely avoiding eye contact with everyone else.

"Artie's right. This is getting stupid," Santana declared

mercilessly. "You guys can't keep driving in circles forever.
Time to shape up, Fabray. I know Lima sucks, but you have to
face the music sooner or later." Quinn thought that later would
be preferable to sooner.

"Quinn." Brittany placed her hand over Quinn's. "You know you
don't have to go back to your house. You can stay with me if
you want to." Rachel jealously thought that if Quinn were to
stay with anyone, it should be with her. But that was neither
here nor there. She had a plan to stick to.

"We appreciate your concern, but we'll be fine. Isn't that right,
Noah?"

Grudgingly, Puck nodded. "We got this."

***
Albuquerque, NM

Puck said that it would be stupid to get two rooms now that
there were only three of them left, and he was right. As usual,
he broke out the liquor as soon as he stepped through the
door and set his bag down. Rachel and Quinn drank, but with
more caution than they were used to. Rachel was afraid that
Puck would try something, and that she'd let him. She already
felt dirty for having phone sex with Finn and making out with
Quinn; Rachel wasn't a prude, but adding a third person to her
romantic repertoire would definitely be pushing the limits of
her personal ethical boundaries. Quinn, on the other hand, had
no such fears. Having made that mistake once, she knew that
she wasn't going to succumb to Puck's charms regardless of
how drunk she was. But she did have a history of doing
inappropriate things while under the influence of alcohol, and
she didn't want to molest Rachel in front of Puck.

But despite their caution, all three of them ended up fairly

blitzed within a couple of hours. And now Puck flopped down
on the bed where Rachel and Quinn already lay, squeezing
himself in between the two girls.

"What are you doing?" Quinn's tone was so sharp that you
could draw blood from its edge.

"Resting," Puck said easily.

"Well, rest over there on your own bed, caveman."

"Too far." An impish smirk on his face, Puck placed his hand on
Rachel's thigh. Rachel responded with a confused, silly grin.
Quinn shot up straight. She grabbed Puck's hand and flung it
aside.

"Keep your hands off her," she hissed.

"Oh, come on! She likes it, don't you, Rachel?"

Rachel looked back and forth at Quinn and Puck, not knowing
what to say. Yes, she had to admit, she kind of liked it simply
because she's a teenage girl and Puck's an attractive guy. But
even in her inebriated state, she could tell that it wasn't the
right answer to give. Luckily, Quinn responded before she
could.

"She doesn't. Leave us alone, Puck."

"What's the big deal?" he whined. "Why can't we have a little

fun?"

"Because, moron, I got pregnant the last time we 'had a little

fun'."

"You can't get pregnant with the same person twice."

Quinn really, really wanted to smack him.

"I'm not Finn, you jackass. I actually understand how

reproduction works."

Rachel squinted at them. She was having a really difficult time

following what was happening.

"Did Noah get Finn pregnant too?"

"Don't be stupid." Quinn didn't mean to be snap at Rachel. It

was just that Puck had her so worked up. When Rachel's brows
furrowed in hurt and confusion, Puck saw the opportunity to
wrap his arm around her shoulder in comfort.

"It's okay," he said soothingly. "She didn't mean it."

"She knows I didn't mean it!" Quinn exploded. "Now get your
fucking hands off her! I'm not going to ask again!"

"Okay, okay," Puck murmured, taking his arm away. "All right,
look, I don't even have to be involved, okay? I'll just be over
here and you two girls can, you know, just do what you
normally do." Unconsciously, he licked his lips. Rachel giggled.
Quinn groaned with disgust.

"We don't do anything, Puck. Now get back in your own bed.
And if you come back over here, I swear to our Lord Jesus
Christ that I will castrate you in your sleep."

Puck scrambled off the bed as fast as was humanly possible.

***

Las Cruces, NM

"We saw the Abrams at synagogue," one of Rachel's dads said

to her on the phone. "They told us that Artie came home. Isn't
it about time you did the same?"

Rachel spoke to her fathers every other day. She kept them in
the loop about where she was and what she was doing.
Although not everything that she was doing. She doubted that
her parents would approve of the nightly drinking, and while
they wouldn't care about the making-out-with-Quinn part, that
was something she wanted to keep to herself for the time
being, especially since she wasn't exactly sure what she and
Quinn were really doing. She also hadn't told them about
California. She knew that they would certainly disapprove of
that plan.

"I'm fine, Daddy."

"Rachel, you know that your Dad and I have always trusted
you. And we're so proud of you for taking such a vested
interest in the welfare of your friend." Rachel's fathers had
gotten to know Quinn quite well over the summer, thanks to
the endless hours the girl spent camped out on their couch. It
wasn't difficult to see that she was in pain. They wanted to
help her, and they were happy when Rachel suggested a trip to
cheer her up. But that was before this trip evolved into a
series of endless detours all over the country.

"I think that we've been more than lenient with you about this
trip. But it's time that you started thinking about coming
back."

"I can't right now," Rachel pleaded. "Quinn's getting so much

better these days, she really is. I just need a little bit more
time."

"How much time?"

"Oh, Daddy, you can't ask me to put a time frame on

someone's mental health recovery."

"You know what I meant, young lady." Rachel's Daddy sounded

unusually stern.

"Daddy," Rachel whined. It was manipulative, but she knew

that her whiny little-girl voice always got her fathers to cave
in. As expected, he sighed softly in resignation.

"Honey, I don't think this trip is what Quinn needs. Quinn

needs to see a therapist. I know that you have some
concerns-"

"She's never going to agree to it!" Rachel's voice overlapped

her daddy's, but his booming voice overpowered hers.

"-your Dad and I have found some excellent counselors willing

to work with her on a sliding scale. And if that still presents a
problem, we're more than happy to contribute if Quinn will let
us."

"She won't agree to it, and neither will her parents. They just
want to forget that any of this ever happened."

"Exactly why that entire family is in need of therapy," her

Daddy replied sardonically. "It won't hurt you to try. You're her
friend. She might listen to you. You and I both know that
Quinn's problems aren't going to go away because you take
her out for a very long drive."

"I know, but..." But she had a plan, damn it. She knew that
she couldn't make everything better, but she firmly believed
that Quinn would be a little bit happier if she could only see
her daughter again. "Look, I'll speak with her after we get
back to Lima. I promise."
And like that, Rachel weaseled out of giving her fathers a firm
end date to her trip. But she knew that she wouldn't be able to
hold them off for much longer.

***

Roswell, NM

"This is ridiculous," Quinn said. At Rachel's insistence, they

visited the International UFO Museum and Research Center.
Presently, Rachel was excitedly snapping pictures of a prop
alien dummy lying on a gurney with a medical-uniform-clad
dummy standing next to it. "You know that this stuff is fake,
right?"

"Of course I do," Rachel said. "It's obviously a replica."

"No, a replica suggests that there was something to replicate.

This is just made up."

"How do you know?"

"You're kidding me." Quinn stared incredulously at the

brunette. "You think that little green men crashed an UFO here
50 years ago?"

"Certainly not," Rachel replied. "As you can see quite clearly
from this replica, they were gray, not green."

"Aliens did not visit this planet, Rachel."

"How do you know?"

"There's no evidence!"

"Well, no, not after the government cover-up."

"There was no cover-up!"

"How do you know?"

"Stop saying that!" Quinn threw her hands up in frustration.
"Puck, help me. You're with me on this, aren't you?"

"I guess," he shrugged carelessly.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I dunno," he shrugged again. "What do I care? Doesn't affect

me."

"It's like talking to a tree," Quinn griped. "A very stupid tree."

"He's entitled to his opinion," Rachel interjected.

"That's just it. He doesn't even have an opinion. He has no

opinions on anything besides football."

"That's not true," Puck said. "I have opinions on boobs."

"There? You see?" Rachel nodded. "Don't underestimate

Noah."

"Nevermind," Quinn sighed. "You're right. Aliens have visited

this planet. In fact, I think they're living amongst us and one
of them is named Rachel Berry." Rachel appeared utterly
unfazed. In terms of insults, this was one of Quinn's tamer
ones. As they moved on to the next exhibit, Rachel sidled up
to Quinn, looped their arms together and whispered in her ear,

"Does that mean you think I'm out of this world?"

Quinn blushed furiously, but Rachel noticed that she didn't

deny it.

***

Santa Fe, NM

"-I want to feel your mouth around me, sucking me off. It feels
amazing. You've got such an amazing mouth." Rachel's hand
worked furiously as Finn's voice poured in, his words filling her
with desire and a vague sense of shame. She hated herself a
little bit, but she couldn't stop. Puck and Quinn had gone out
to pick up dinner. She told them that she needed to call her
dads. Obviously, that didn't happen.

She was close now, but she needed that extra push to bring
her over the edge. She slid her fingers in and out of her
opening, the palm of her hand rubbing hard against her clit. It
wasn't happening. She let out a half-frustrated groan.

"Everything okay?"

"Keep going," Rachel rasped.

"I want to be inside you. I bet you'd feel amazing."

Rachel made a mental note to get Finn a thesaurus. She

groaned again. This line of thinking was distracting and not at
all helpful. She needed to get off, not give a silent lecture of
the English language to Finn Hudson - who was really a very
sweet boy, but woefully uncreative in the art of seduction. She
knew that this had to happen soon because he wasn't going to
last much longer. And once he was done, the whole thing was
done. Finn wasn't a selfish guy, but his dirty talk suffered
significantly when he wasn't horny. He became self-conscious
and stuttered, and that definitely wasn't a turn-on. So it was
going to be now or never. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut,
picturing Finn on top, pumping in and out of her. Sometimes
that was enough. Tonight it wasn't. So she turned to the one
image that she knew always worked. Quinn, her blonde hair
wild splayed, her head in between Rachel's legs as her tongue
swirled and her lips sucked. Rachel bucked as she came.

"Ohgodohgod!"

She heard the sound of the door opening.

"Oh god!"

"Rachel?" came Finn's voice over the line.

"I have to go." She hurried snapped her phone shut as Puck
stepped through the door, carrying a bag full of Chinese take-
out. He took one look at her, and she knew that he knew. At
first, he looked intrigued and aroused. But as his eyes drifted
to the cell phone that she had just dropped, realization
dawned on him and the look on his face shifted into one of
contempt. Maybe even of disgust.

"Quinn went to the vending machine," he said flatly. "She's

getting you a Snickers for dessert."

"Noah..."

"Go get cleaned up," he interrupted. "Time for dinner." Under

the ruse of unpacking the food, he avoided looking at her.

"I didn't do anything wrong." But her voice was shaky.

"Go get cleaned up," he repeated. "She's going to be back

soon."

Rachel slid off the bed, and unsteadily started for the
bathroom. She paused by its entrance.

"Please don't tell her."

"I thought you weren't doing anything wrong." Rachel didn't

know what to say, not that Puck was expecting otherwise. He
took the last carton out of the bag and savagely crumpled the
empty bag in his hands. He glanced back at her. "I've been
keeping a lot of fucking secrets for you lately."

"I know," she said quietly. His eyes drifted to her arm. It's
been nearly two weeks, and the bruise was gone, but he
stared at it as if he could still see it.

"We're even."

"We always were, Noah."

Puck didn't say anything more. He kept her secret.

***

Durango, CO

Puck didn't touch either of them after the first night. But he
did get into the habit of finding a reason to leave the room
(running to the store for chew, taking a phone call, going for a
jog) only to burst back in after a few minutes. He always
ended up looking disappointed when he found the girls doing
something completely innocuous.

"What the hell, Puck?" Quinn finally demanded. "What do you

think you're doing?"

"Nothing!" He looked as guilty as a child caught stealing a

cookie from the cookie jar.

"Then why do you keep running in and out of the room?"

Puck's face twisted into hilarious contortions as he tried to

come up with a plausible excuse. In the end, he just gave up.

"I wanted to walk in on you two making out."

"Noah!" Rachel admonished with no real bite to it. Quinn, on

the other hand, promptly lobbed her book at Puck's head. She
missed.

"We do not make out!"

"Seriously, Fabray? You're still running that line?"

"We. Do. NOT. Make. Out!" Quinn's face was flushed red from
rage. Rachel was a little afraid that she was going to fly across
the room and start strangling Puck.

"Whatever," Puck scoffed. His phone buzzed, and he reached

into his pocket, pulling it out to look at the display. "It's my
mom. This might take a while." He stepped outside to take the
call. After he left, Quinn turned to Rachel, shaking her head.

"Watch. In two minutes, he'll come bursting in."

But he didn't. He didn't come back at all.

***

In the morning, they found him in the diner across from the
motel. He was bowed over a cup of black coffee, his head
heavily propped up by the fists resting at his temple. He
looked so weary and sad that the girls couldn't muster up the
strength to scold him for staying out all night. Rachel rushed
over and instinctively wrapped her arms around him, which
made Quinn felt a sharp jolt of jealousy, but she wisely
decided that this wasn't the time for that.

"It's my mom," Puck said hoarsely. "She took a fall."

"How bad is it?" asked Quinn quietly.

"She's okay. She broke her foot though." He drew a sharp

breath. "I gotta go. I gotta go back to Lima. My mom has to
stay off her feet for a few weeks, which means that she can't
work, so... so I have to get back and help pay the bills and
take care of my sister."

This time, Rachel didn't quite know what to do. She had
anticipated the departure of their friends, but she had more or
less counted on Puck being there the whole way through. If
not for her, then certainly for Quinn. Rachel didn't have a back-
up plan for this one.

"So..." Quinn started slowly. "What do we do now?"

Silence at the table. Rachel was reasonably sure that Quinn

would go along with whatever plan she came up with, by
virtue of the fact that Quinn really, really didn't want to go
back to Lima. And Rachel was still set on the plan being
California. They were so close now. Bakersfield was maybe
fourteen, fifteen hours away. It seemed foolish to turn back for
Lima now. Trouble was: no Puck, no car.

As if reading Rachel's thoughts, Puck dug into his pockets and

produced the keys to his truck. He set it down on the table, his
hand still on top of the keys.

"You can take my truck."

"But Noah-"

"Under one condition," he projected over Rachel's voice. "That

Quinn says it's okay to go where you want to go."

Rachel visibly swallowed. Her eyes darted to Quinn, whose

face was maddeningly blank and inscrutable. Rachel turned
back to Puck. He read her fears easily. Anyone could.

"It's time, Rachel," he said gently. "Tell her."

"What is it?" Quinn asked. Neither of them answered her. They

stared at one another, locked in a wordless battle of wills.
Frustrated by the silence, Quinn added, "Are you two talking
about going to Bakersfield?"

Their reactions, Quinn had to admit, were deeply satisfying.

Both turned to her with wide, shocked eyes, their jaws slightly
agape. Rachel started stammering nonsense. Quinn found all
of it immensely amusing; however, it only felt right to explain
herself to them.

"Rach, we share the same room and you leave your crap lying
around everywhere," she said mildly. "You're not exactly some
criminal mastermind. I found your maps."

"Well, that doesn't prove anything."

"And your nine-page manifesto titled 'Manifesto: How To Get

Quinn To California To See Her Daughter And Thereby Release
Her From Her Impending Emotional Doom'."

"Okay, that proves something," Rachel muttered.

"You wrote a manifesto?"

"Focus, Noah. We have more important matters at hand,"

Rachel replied briskly, then turned to Quinn. "You're taking this
much better than I expected."

Quinn shrugged. "I've had time to adjust."

"How long have you known?"

"Since Little Rock. It was the night I left the party early. I went
back to our room and I found the maps." Quinn felt compelled
to add, "I wasn't going through your things. You left the maps
sitting out on the bed." And then she went through Rachel's
stuff.

"Little Rock?" Rachel was stunned. Arkansas seemed like such

a long time ago. But Quinn had known all this time. "Why
didn't you say anything?"

Guilt crossed Quinn's face.

"I guess I was..." Quinn hesitated, searching for the right

word. "...Stalling. I guess I was stalling. At first I didn't know
what to do. I was just busy being angry with you."

"That's why you were mad? I thought it was because of..."

Rachel suddenly remembered that Puck, although quiet and
tired, was very much still present. "...other stuff." The neck-
kissing in the bathroom. The thinly veiled speech she'd given
Quinn on a park bench in Eureka Springs.

"Maybe that stuff too," Quinn admitted.

"You two need better codewords," Puck declared. "You don't

need to keep saying stuff. You can say it. Sex." Despite the
gravity of the situation, he actually managed to smirk.

"We didn't have sex," Rachel said.

"We don't have sex," Quinn emphasized.

"You keep saying that, but-"

"Noah? Can we please focus?"

Puck rolled his eyes, but nodded at Quinn, signaling for her to
continue.

"Anyway, I was so busy being mad at you for meddling that I

didn't stop to ask myself whether I wanted to go. But then I
realized - well, I guess someone helped me realize - that you
wouldn't do anything to hurt me. And when I forced myself to
think about what you were planning and, I realized that I do
want to see her. So I went along with it. But I wasn't ready...
and I stalled." If this were a cartoon, a lightbulb would have lit
up over Rachel's head.

"That's why we've been driving around in circles!" Despite

herself, there was clear awe in Rachel's voice.

How did she not see this earlier? This was why Quinn had
heartily endorsed Kurt's plea to stay in Eureka Springs. She
was stalling. Why would Brittany want to visit a Liberty Bell
made of wheat? Or Matt wanting to visit the birthplace of Kool-
Aid? Or Mercedes and the world's largest time capsule; or Artie
and the world's largest ball of stamps; or Tina and Carhenge;
or Mike and the 72-oz steak and on and on. Every stop came
at the suggestion of a different person for no apparent reason.
One stop led to another until they had essentially driven in a
big circle around the middle of the United States. Now Rachel
realized that Quinn must have encouraged - if not downright
pushed - them into making these suggestions. Rachel would
know. She had spent the first half of the trip doing the exact
same thing. She'd been playing a game of Spy v. Spy with
Quinn and she didn't even know it. She had to admit that
Quinn out-manipulated her by leaps and bounds.

"I don't get it," Puck said blunty. "What's going on?"

"Nevermind," Quinn sighed. "The bottomline is that I do want

to go. I want to see her. I'm just... not ready yet." Puck
pushed his car keys toward her.
"Take your time," he said.

***

They took Puck to the bus station. It was going to be a two-

day bus ride with no less than four transfers. Puck insisted
that it was perfectly fine.

"This is nothing," he scoffed with much bravado. "It's good

training for when I'm a rock star one day and living out of my
tour bus." At the station, he gave Quinn a long hug.

"Give our girl a kiss from me," he whispered, and she started
to cry. Rachel started to tear up as well. That hadn't been
Puck's intention. It was hard pretending like he didn't care
about not making it to California. But Puck was good at
pretending. "So now that I'm giving you my truck, can I at
least get a kiss?"

Quinn smiled fondly at him and planted a soft, chaste kiss on

his lips. Puck broke into a wide grin.

"I meant a kiss between you two." He unabashedly leered at

the girls. Quinn smacked him on the arm. "Ow! What? Just
one! One!"

"You're impossible."

When it was almost time to board the bus, Puck told Quinn
that he'd forgotten his chew in the truck and asked her to
bring it to him. After grumbling about what a disgusting habit
it was, Quinn went, leaving Puck alone with Rachel - which was
the whole point of Puck 'forgetting' his chew in the first place.
See, Puck could be sneaky too.

"Whatever it is that you're not doing wrong with Finn, you

need to stop, or you need to tell her. Probably both." No smirk,
no grin, no leering. He was actually being serious for once. It
was unnerving.
"I don't think that's any of your business," Rachel answered as
polite as she could.

"Berry, in case you haven't noticed, everything that happens in

this stupid glee club is everyone's business. If it wasn't our
business, none of us would have came on this trip and I
wouldn't be giving you my truck."

He had a point. She had gotten everyone so tangled up in

Quinn's life that it would be disingenuous of her to ask them
not to care now. And of course, she knew that what she was
doing with Finn was wrong, otherwise she wouldn't feel so
guilty about it. Or maybe it was what she was doing with
Quinn that was wrong since, technically, she 'went out' with
Finn before anything happened with Quinn. At any rate, she
didn't look forward to telling Quinn about it. She wasn't sure
how she would react. She was afraid of Quinn being upset, but
she was even more afraid of Quinn not caring at all.

But for the time being, all she could do was nod and say in a
small voice,

"Okay."

But as it turned out, before Rachel even had the chance to tell
her, Quinn found out that very night.

***

Grand Junction, CO

When Rachel was in the shower and her phone rang and the
display said 'Finn', Quinn knew better than to answer it. But
she did it anyway.

"I have my mouth on your nipple," he said before she could

speak. Quinn froze. Finn kept talking, describing the filthy
things that he'd like to do to Rachel. Things that Quinn had
thought about but couldn't bring herself to do. His words
poured into her like liquid poison, swirling and polluting her
mind until it solidified, transforming into images, stark and
horrifying. She felt sick. She ended the call. When she heard it
ring again, she fumbled with the buttons until she manage to
turn the phone off entirely. She sat there on the edge of the
bed, feeling revulsion and rage jockeying for top position
inside her. She stayed that way until she heard the sound of
the shower being turned off, then she realized that she had to
do something. She slowly rose and ambled into the bathroom.

When Rachel stepped out of the shower, she was very

surprised to find Quinn leaning against the bathroom counter,
holding on to the towel that she needed.

"Quinn!" Rachel yelped, instinctively crossing her arms over

herself and shrinking away. "What are you doing?" Quinn
suddenly realized that this was the first time she's seen Rachel
naked. For a brief moment, she forgot why she came in here in
the first place. She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. But she
sure as hell could see.

Rachel definitely noticed. She didn't know what to make of this

situation, but she knew three things: 1) Quinn was staring at
her naked body; 2) she didn't mind one bit and 3) for the first
time since they started this trip, they were totally, utterly,
thankfully alone. Slowly, she dropped her arms to her side.

"Quinn? Is everything all right?"

Quinn struggled to find her voice. She only remembered her

mission when she realized that she was still clutching Rachel's
cell phone. She set the phone down on the counter.

"Finn called."

Rachel's heart lurched, but she struggled to keep her face

neutral.

"Oh?"

"He had quite the message for you."

Rachel could feel herself trembling, and it wasn't just because
she's still dripping wet and starting to get cold.

"What was it?"

Quinn started to tell her. Her mouth was open, but the words
were stuck. All the insults she wanted to hurl, all the
obscenities she wanted to scream out, all the anger she
wanted to unleash, they just sat lodged in her throat. So
instead of telling Rachel the message, she decided to show her
instead.

She closed the gap between them in two quick steps, and
pushed the brunette up against the wall. She dipped her head
down and captured a hardened peak in her mouth. She could
feel water droplets sliding off Rachel's breast and onto her
tongue. She sucked, hard. She could hear Rachel's moans,
sharp, harsh and enthused. She lifted her head, and heard
disappointed groans as her mouth left pulled away from soft
flesh, then relieved sighs as she switched her focus to the
other breast. She rolled her tongue against the underside,
lapped at the nipple in short, teasing strokes, all the while
feeling heat pooling between her legs. She pressed her fingers
hard against Rachel's hips. Her hands roamed the curves,
feeling the slick, damp skin.

Then, just as abruptly as she descended, she pulled away,

moving quickly for the door. Rachel, her back still pressed up
tight against cold linoleum, breathed with staggered gasps.
Quinn threw the towel at her, turned on her heel and walked
out.

With shaky hands, Rachel toweled herself dry and put on her
pajamas, struggling to comprehend what the hell had just
happened. Quinn knew about her phone calls with Finn, she
could grasp that much. But given her reaction, it was difficult
to tell whether she was actually upset about it.

When she exited the bathroom, she found Quinn sprawled out
on the bed, watching TV and cradling a bottle of Vodka that
Puck had left them. She was watching The Twilight Zone.
Rachel approached and gingerly sat down on the edge of the
bed.

"If you would like to discuss-"

"No," Quinn cut her off. She took a drink straight from the
bottle, then thrust it into Rachel's hands. "Drink." Rachel
hesitated. She didn't think that alcohol would be conducive to
the heart-to-heart in-depth discussion she and Quinn so badly
needed. Quinn sensed her reluctance and hissed at her
through gritted teeth, "Just do it, Berry."

So Rachel crawled onto the bed, settled in next to Quinn, and

she took a sip. When they drank with Puck, he always mixed
the drinks for them. She wasn't used to taking it straight, and
she coughed a little at the bitterness. Out of the corner of her
eye, she saw Quinn smirk. She thought that she was being
punished. So be it. She took a long drink from the bottle. So
the two of them sat on the bed, passing the bottle back and
forth, watching The Twilight Zone in silence.

Rachel's head was swimming by the time the episode was

over. Quinn set the bottle down on the nightstand, and turned
off the TV. Rachel figured that it was time for bed, and she
groggily contemplated making her way to the bathroom to
brush her teeth. Her eyelids were fluttering shut when she felt
Quinn's hand underneath her shirt. Her eyes snapped open.
She was very awake now.

"Quinn?" she whispered.

In response, Quinn rolled her body on top of Rachel's. As the

hand underneath Rachel's shirt began to massage gently,
Quinn brought her lips to Rachel's. She flicked her tongue
across Rachel's lips before delving in, worming inside her
mouth, their tongues lapping languidly together. This Rachel
knew. This was familiar territory. Quinn wanted a drunken
make out session, and Rachel was more than happy to oblige.
As usual, she didn't dare push for more. She kept her hands
respectably at Quinn's waist, over the clothes; she would lie
there and kiss for as long as Quinn wanted to. Rachel was
content with this.
But Quinn wasn't. She abruptly pulled away, and before Rachel
could protest or comprehend what was happening, she found
that her pajama top was being roughly pulled up over her
head and yanked off. She shivered lightly at the exposure, but
not for long, because Quinn was all over her; all hands and lips
in a frenzied exploration of her torso. Rachel moaned as she
felt Quinn's mouth, wet and hot against her nipples.

Still, that wasn't enough for Quinn. When she pulled away
again, it was to tug her own shirt off, and for the first time,
Rachel came to see Quinn's bare breasts. If she wasn't already
wet, she certainly would be now. Rachel's hands still rested
politely on Quinn's hips. That was unacceptable. Quinn seized
Rachel's hands and roughly pulled them up. Rachel got the
hint. She cupped the soft mounds in the palm of her hands
and experimentally reached out with her thumbs, gently
flicking at the stiff nubs. The experiment went well; Quinn
arched her back, pushing her hips harder into Rachel's. Her
moan was nearly primal.

"Mouth," Quinn gasped. "Now."

Rachel eagerly complied, bolting up and bringing her mouth to

Quinn's breast, marveling at the weight, heftiness, the
smoothness, and how pleasurable it all was. Her tongue darted
out, caressing the tip with circular motions, occasionally
introducing just a hint of teeth. Quinn hissed sharply and dug
her fingernails into Rachel's shoulders. She couldn't wait any
longer. Reaching down, she started pulling at the waistband of
her pants and underwear until they're off and flung aside.
Then she started on Rachel's remaining wardrobe, fiercely
yanking off the rest of her clothes until not a thread remained.

By now, Rachel had realized that this wasn't going to be just

another drunken make out session. This was going to be more,
much more. She gazed up at Quinn through heavy eyelids,
and found the edges of her figure a little blurry. She could feel
her head pulsating; everything seemed too loud, too colorful,
too disorientated. She was drunk. She never wanted and didn't
want now for her first time to be a drunken fuck. But she did
want Quinn. She wanted Quinn a lot, and the thought of Quinn
being her first was too good to pass up. Rachel didn't need a
pro/con list for this. She knew what she wanted. She didn't
really want it to be this way, but if the two of them needed to
be drunk in order for her to have Quinn, well, then, so be it.

Besides, it wasn't as if Quinn was asking for permission

because the blonde girl had already descended upon Rachel,
bringing their naked bodies together in heated fusion as their
lips locked together once more. Quinn's hands moved across
Rachel's body frantically and urgently, having waited so god
damn long for this moment that the pressure from the build-
up was unbearable. She delved south. She lightly ran the pad
of her fingertips along Rachel's slit, and earned a satisfying
pained moan in response. Quinn pushed a finger in, not all the
way, but into the folds.

"Ow!" Rachel winced, flinching in pain. Quinn froze, the

confusion evident on her face.

"What?"

"Um..." Rachel's cheeks were red, although it was difficult to

tell whether that was from the alcohol or the embarrassment.

"What?"

"I- I, um... I- I think it's your fingernails," Rachel stammered

out.

"Oh," Quinn said, not comprehending. Then, as realization hit,

"Oh!" She quickly withdrew her hand. Her fingernails were
long. She had let them grow out on the trip. She certainly
hadn't expected to do this kind of thing tonight, and so she
hadn't prepared for it beforehand. Tonight, in between her
jealous rage and her drunken haze, she overlooked this one
little detail. And now dire embarrassment trumped both
jealous rage and drunken haze. "Oh, god. I- I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Rachel responded demurely.

"Um." Quinn was still pressed up against Rachel's very naked

body, and quite aware of this fact. If it weren't for the fact that
she was ridiculously horny, she would have been too
embarrassed to ask this next question. "Do you have nail
clippers?"

"Ahh... no. Brittany and Santana did, but..."

"Right. Okay." Reluctantly, Quinn rolled off Rachel, who was

left looking mighty disappointed. There were other things that
Quinn could have done for Rachel at this point, but frankly,
Quinn wasn't ready for that kind of thing, and Rachel wasn't
one to push.

***

Interstate 15

The next day, it was as if nothing had happened.

"The Salt Lake Temple looks interesting." In the passenger

seat with her bare feet propped up on the dashboard, Quinn
was browsing through brochures that they had picked up at
the visitor's center. On this day, Quinn was acting normal,
which, given the events of the previous night, made it
absolutely abnormal. Rachel would've chalked the whole thing
up to drunken hallucinations if it weren't for the fact that the
two of them had woken up next to each other completely
naked.

"You want to visit a Mormon Temple?"

"It's a big tourist attraction. And it looks pretty." Quinn showed

her the cover of the brochure. It amazed Rachel how Quinn
could go on blithely as she did. "Doesn't it?"

"Sure," Rachel replied noncommittally. Quinn flipped through

the rest of the brochures.

"There's also an aviary... A zoo... There's a planetarium...

Apparently they also have a seagull monument... Some place
called Heritage Park..." Quinn paused in her brochure-flipping
to read a sign they just passed. "Hey, Rach, can you pull off at
the next exit?"

"Of course."

"I saw a sign for Target."

"Did you need something?"

Quinn looked at Rachel with an incredulous and exasperated

expression, as if it should've been perfectly obvious to her, and
she was quite silly for even asking.

"Nail clippers."

"...Oh."

***

Salt Lake City, UT

They decided to check in at the hotel first before they did their
sightseeing. They agreed that they would take fifteen minutes
to rest and freshen up before they headed over to Temple
Square for the afternoon.

Naturally, an hour later, they were still in the room and making
out on the bed. Neither was sure how it happened, but it
seemed to have happened by accident: a step too close led to
an accidental brushing which led to bodies leaning in which led
to lips meshed together and tangled limbs and stumbling on to
the closest soft surface. Their clothes were still intact, but each
were dimly aware that that wouldn't be the circumstance for
long. Rachel's body felt prickly hot, so much so that the soft
cotton of her clothes felt like burlap against her skin. She
itched to get out of them, but she waited for Quinn to make
the move. The anticipation built and built within her until she
was so anxious for it that when Quinn finally pried at the edge
of her shirt, she involuntarily jerked at the sensation of
Quinn's fingers against her skin.
Quinn pulled back, her hands stopping, uncertain of how to
interpret Rachel's startled movement. Rachel saw Quinn's
hesitancy, but misread the cause of it. It occurred to Rachel
that they've never done this sober. She thought that maybe
Quinn was losing her nerve without a little liquid courage.

"Are you all right?"

Quinn nodded faintly. "I- I think so. Are you?"

Now it was Rachel's turn to nod. "Yes, I'm fine."

Neither moved. They were both waiting for the other one to do
something. Finally, Rachel spoke up:

"D- did you want something to drink?" Truth be told, she felt a
little ashamed for the suggestion. It felt wrong, but when
Rachel Berry wanted something this badly, she wasn't above
some slightly underhanded tactics. Quinn opened her mouth,
like she was trying to find the right answer but she wasn't sure
what it was.

"No," she said at last, and Rachel felt a flood of relief. "Do
you?" Rachel shook her head.

"We don't have to do this." Rachel's tone was too reluctant to

be convincing. "If you're not ready, that is."

"I'm not the virgin here. Shouldn't I be telling you that?"

"Not necessarily. Prior sexual experience doesn't guarantee

readiness for the next one, particularly when it's something
unfamiliar. Additionally, I'm quite mature with regards to my
sexual needs and expectations. I've given the matter a great
deal of thought, and I've come to the conclusion that my
preparedness for physical intimacy is at an emotional and
physical apex. I believe that this is the appropriate-"

"Rachel."

"Yes?"
"This is never going to happen if you don't shut up."

Then Rachel was quiet. To make sure that she stayed that way,
Quinn found a good use for her mouth by sealing it with her
own. They moved slowly against one another, trying not to
break too far apart as they pulled off their clothes and slipped
under the covers. For a little while, they just kissed,
alternating between gentle and passionate, unhurried and
frenzied. At times they pushed against one another as if
waging a vicious battle; at other times, they explored each
other's bodies with the delicacy of handling a fragile object.

At last, Quinn moved on top, propping herself up on one

elbow, her hand tangled through Rachel's thick hair while the
other gently caressed the length of Rachel's body until it
reached the mound of damp curls. Rachel inhaled a sharp,
ragged breath. To calm her, Quinn dipped her head down,
capturing the brunette's mouth in a kiss that started soft but
that was soon infused with fiery zeal. Slowly, Rachel parted her
legs and drew up one knee, wordlessly inviting.

Quinn dipped two fingers into the folds, and Rachel shuddered
pleasurably at the sensation. Quinn awkwardly felt around
until she reached the small, hard nub she was looking for. She
rubbed lightly in a semi-circle, and heard Rachel emit a heavy,
pained sigh. Quinn continued this movement, on occasion
introducing a light pinch or an up-and-down motion. She
looked down in amazement at the expression on Rachel's face:
eyes squeezed tight, mouth agape, a slight wince coming on
from time to time. Her fingers dipped south, pressing up
against Rachel's opening. Rachel opened her eyes. Quinn could
feel her body tensing.

"Okay?" she whispered softly. Rachel swallowed perceptibly,

but she nodded.

"Okay."

"Are you... are you sure?"

"Yes. Please. Just..." Rachel drew an unsteady breath. "Just

one, okay? For now."
"Okay."

"And slow. Please."

"Okay."

Quinn placed a delicate kiss to Rachel's lips and eased in the

way she was told. Rachel bit down on her bottom lip. It didn't
hurt, but she was still tense from the fact that there was
another person doing this to her. It felt so strange and so
unfamiliar... and yet, really damn good. Especially when Quinn
started moving inside her. Quinn, needing a little contact of
her own, swung one leg over Rachel's thigh. She began
moving her hips in time with her hand, leisurely and gentle.
When Rachel began squirming and panting heavily, she figured
that it was okay to go faster and deeper. She pushed in as far
as she could, and curled her finger upwards.

"Quinn."

"Do you want me to stop?" She was already slowing down, but
Rachel shook her head fiercely.

"No. More," Rachel gasped out. Quinn picked up the speed.

"No, more."

"Oh."

Obeying, she slipped a second finger in. Rachel grimaced, but

she didn't seem to mind the pain that much because her hips
bucked upward. Quinn resumed pumping her fingers in and
out, and she pushed her thumb against Rachel's clit. Rachel's
hands came to rest on Quinn's shoulder, curling around the
back of her neck, as if she were holding on for dear life. Her
sighs and moans came more frequently, rising up and up until
it reached a crescendo as her body clenched around Quinn's
fingers again and again. At the sensation, Quinn angled her
hips down hard against Rachel's leg, and she shuddered
helplessly against the brunette's body as she cried out,

"Rachel. Rachel. Rachel." Over and over, like a curse or a

prayer.

When the last ecstatic wave finally passed, Quinn slowly pulled
her fingers out, and settled heavily against the smaller girl,
who still had her hands curled about Quinn's neck. Quinn
thought about going to the bathroom to clean up, but when
she started to move, Rachel griped onto her tightly.

"No," she whimpered. "No, don't go. Please. Stay with me.
Please stay."

"Okay." Quinn brushed the brunette's tresses away from her

eyes, and placated with her kisses and murmurs of, "Okay
okay okay."

After all this time on the road, nothing seemed real anymore.

The scenery outside the car transitioned from green forest to

yellow desert to gray steel metropolis, but they eventually all
started to look the same. The towns and cities became
indistinguishable. The days bled together. They no longer
traveled under the pretense of sightseeing; they were driving
for the sake of driving. It didn't matter where they were or
when they were there. The two of them drifted in a vacuum
where time, places and faces meant nothing.

Sometimes it felt a lot like going mad.

At night, they regained their sanity by tearing at one another's

clothes, trailing their mouths along hot skin, digging their
finger into soft flesh, burying and losing themselves in each
other. With oblivion all around them, they clung on to each
other for hours for comfort and safety. Nothing seemed real
anymore, but that was a good thing, because Quinn probably
couldn't do this if it did. On the road, she was no longer Quinn
Fabray, ex-Cheerio and daughter of dutiful Christians from a
small podunk town in Ohio who got knocked up at sixteen by
her boyfriend's best friend. On the road, she was just a
nameless girl with someone she trusted by her side.
It was crazy like this, and it was easy. It was disorientating like
this, and it was good.

Sometimes it felt a little like drowning.

But Quinn liked it that way.

***

Twin Falls, ID

She saw a voicemail message on her phone.

"Quinn." Her mother's voice on the line. It's been exactly 28

days since they left Lima. This is the first time she has called.
"Your father wants to know-"

Quinn pressed a button, and her mother's voice is replaced by

an automated and more human voice:

"Message deleted."

***

Weatherby, OR

A bright red plastic ball bounced off of the back of Rachel's

head.

When she turned around, she found a pug-nosed boy, maybe

seven or eight years old, standing in the middle of the ball pit
in the play area of the McDonald's where she and Quinn were
eating lunch. Rachel smiled graciously and decided to let it go.
She turned her attention back to Quinn. Everything was okay
until she felt herself being pelted with another plastic ball. She
ignored that too. And the next one. And the one after that.
Quinn was starting to giggle.
"Thanks a lot," Rachel said to her dryly.

"I think he just has a little crush," Quin replied lightly as

another plastic ball bounced off of Rachel's shoulder. "He's only
aiming for you."

Rachel craned her neck around to look for the hellion's

parents. She spotted them in a corner, preoccupied with trying
to fend off five even unrulier brats. Rachel looked for the
manager next, but there was only a stoned-looking teenager
behind the counter playing with his phone. He was the one
who took their order. They repeated it three times and he still
got it wrong. Rachel decided that he was going to be no help
at all.

"Very well," she said evenly as yet another ball struck her. "I'll
just have to take matters into my own hands." Quinn was
nearly doubled over with laughter by this point until she heard
what Rachel said. She straightened up quickly.

"No, wait. What? Rach, what are you going to do?"

But Rachel was already halfway there. The boy was clutching
another ball in his hands. When she approached, he squealed,
flung the ball at her, and retreated further into the ball pit.
Quinn gaped as Rachel took off her shoes and climbed right
into the pit. The boy threw another ball. This one Rachel
caught.

"I know that your mental faculties are still at the prepubescent
stage, but I'd like for you to try and follow along. People don't
like it when you throw things at them, regardless of what your
intentions are. Now, I see your parents over there with a
number of children, whom I presume to be your siblings. That
must be difficult for you. Perhaps you feel that you're
constantly in competition with your siblings for your parents'
affection and that's why you resort to such attention-seeking
behavior. However, I'm afraid that this type of behavior will not
earn you very many friends." She held the ball out to him.
"Next time, perhaps you should try a simple hello."

The boy stared at her. Then he made a face.

"You're weird." He stuck his tongue at her and ran (well,
waded) out of the ball pit to rejoin his family. Quinn stood by
the entrance of the ball pit, having positioned herself there in
case she needed to break up any acts of violence. Not from
Rachel - who was really a pacifist - but from the boy. Kids
could be little monsters and Rachel was, well, Rachel. Even
perfectly rational adults got the urge to smack her from time
to time. But don't get Quinn wrong. Regardless of whether
Rachel deserved it, if that boy had laid a finger on her, Quinn
would have no qualms giving a seven-or-eight year old child a
thrashing. Or at least a good spanking.

"You really needed to do that?"

"Of course. He needed to understand that his behavior is not

acceptable."

"His behavior?" Quinn gestured at her. "You're standing in the

middle of a McDonald's play pen."

"So?"

"So it's meant for children."

"So?"

"You're not a child."

"So?"

"You're annoying."

In response, Rachel threw the ball that she still held in her
hands. It bounced off Quinn's forehead, leaving Quinn looking
surprised and indignant.

"Hey!" Okay, so that wasn't the best comeback she's ever had.

"What are you going to do about it?" Rachel was smirking.

Smirking. The gauntlet had been thrown. Quinn slipped off her
shoes and climbed in. She was barely in when Rachel threw
another ball.

"Stop that!" Quinn commanded; it only elicited a giggle from

Rachel, who then proceeded to toss two more balls her way.
Quinn tried to retaliate, but her aim was horrid. She missed all
three shots she took while plastic balls were bouncing off her
body. She finally managed to chase Rachel down, grabbing on
to her wrists so that the she couldn't pelt her with anymore
with her freakishly good aim.

"You're going to get us kicked out!" Quinn's admonishment

would carry a lot more weight if she wasn't breathless from
laughing.

"So what? Nobody here knows us," Rachel said. "And nobody
cares." That was true. The only other costumers were busy
trying to restrain their hoard of children; the only employee
who seemed to be there hadn't looked up from his phone
once. Rachel's words were an epiphany to Quinn.

"Nobody here knows us." Awe was evident in Quinn's tone.

She wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist, pulling the
shorter girl close to her.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked nervously. "What are you doing?" It

wasn't that she didn't like Quinn touching her - she very much
did - but Quinn never touched her in public like this. No matter
what they did the night before, in the morning they were
always just friends again. Outside of their hotel room, Quinn
never wanted to hold hands or kiss or touch in any way
beyond the occasional friendly hug.

"Nobody here knows us," Quinn repeated, before she pressed

her lips to Rachel's.

***

Kennewick, WA

She received a text from Finn that read, hey what u up 2?? It
annoyed her that he couldn't type out full words.

She hadn't been taking any of his calls. It would have felt
really wrong to carry on with him the way she did before.
Although Rachel never talked about it with Quinn, she was
relatively certain that the blonde didn't like the things that
Rachel was doing with him. It was Rachel's natural instinct to
call Finn and explain the situation to him in great detail, except
that she was also relatively certain that Quinn didn't want their
situation explained. So in the end, the only thing she could do
was to ignore him. She felt guilty for doing it. But then she
thought of Quinn. She chose her side.

She read the text again. Then, without replying, she hit delete.

It really annoyed her that he couldn't type out full words.

***

Seattle, WA

They had gotten into Seattle late last night, and they had a
plan to spend the morning touring the city before they went
off to their next destination.

This morning, Rachel stepped out from the shower, dressed

herself in nothing but her underwear and a shirt, and went to
wake Quinn so that they could start their day. But Quinn was
already awake when she stepped out into the room, sitting
upright in bed, her hair mussed and sticking out every which
way. Rachel found it really damn sexy.

"Good morning," Rachel greeted happily. Quinn didn't return

the greeting. She just sat there, gazing at Rachel with an
intensity that Rachel had never seen before. The unfamiliarity
made Rachel a little concerned. "Quinn? Are you okay?"

Quinn held her hand out. She crooked her index finger,
beckoning Rachel forth. The brunette fidgeted uneasily, unsure
of what was happening. Being with Quinn was not unlike being
with a bipolar tiger on cocaine. You just never knew what she
was going to do next. But sometimes that was part of the
thrill. Rachel approached cautiously.

"Quinn?" she asked apprehensively. "Are you feeling-"

As soon as she was within reaching distance, Quinn reached

out with both hands, seizing Rachel by the hips. She tugged
hard, dragging Rachel down to the bed. Rachel squealed as
she felt her back hit the mattress. She moaned as she felt
Quinn pulling her underwear off. She gasped as she felt
Quinn's tongue suddenly and insistently pushing its way inside
her. She felt herself clench, and knew that she was already
wet. It was almost embarrassing how eagerly and
instantaneously aroused she was, but Rachel didn't give a
damn about any of that now that Quinn was lapping against
her clit.

She writhed and squirmed with intense pleasure, trying to

restrain herself so that she didn't thrust her hips in Quinn's
face. It felt good, excruciatingly good. Rachel had no idea that
anything in the world could feel like this. It didn't seem like it
could get any better than this. Until Quinn managed to get her
lips around the clit and sucked. Rachel emitted a throaty moan
so loud that it must have woken up the people next door. She
flung out one arm above her head, groping blindly under she
found a pillow, and dragged it over, covering her face with it.
She couldn't rely on sheer self-control to stop herself from
making another noise like that.

She pressed the pillow against her face to muffle her screams
while Quinn experimentally burrowed her tongue in, deep as
she can, before pulling out and turning her attention back to
Rachel's clit. It was as if Quinn couldn't make up her mind on
what she wanted to do. She alternated between both while she
decided. She took her sweet time in doing so, all the while
Rachel was grunting and wailing desperately for release.
Rachel no longer cared about taking care not to thrust her hips
in Quinn's face; she was bucking every which way, just dying
for the climax.

Quinn was, of course, perfectly aware of this. It made her feel

powerful. More powerful than when she commanded a squad
of Cheerios, more powerful when she snapped at the social
losers in the McKinley corridors, more powerful than when she
had Finn or Puck wrapped around her little finger. She took her
time because she wanted this moment to last forever. She
relished the feel of Rachel's folds against her tongue, the musk
of Rachel's scent, the taste of her. Quinn finally decided on a
course of action: she pushed her tongue up against the
sensitive nub while her fingers prowled, two of them easing
their way into Rachel's depth. As soon as her fingers slipped
in, Rachel came, her cries only subdued by the fact that she
was biting hard down on the pillow. Quinn continued the
torturing strokes, each lap matching the shuddering waves
passing through Rachel.

When Quinn finally stopped, she trailed kisses up along

Rachel's body, against the swell of her hips, against her
heaving breasts underneath the t-shirt she still wore, until she
reached the collarbone. She pulled the pillow away, and kissed
Rachel's neck gently before settling in, resting her head
against Rachel's shoulders. She waited for Rachel to regain her
senses. At last, Rachel calmed her gasping breaths, and asked,

"Did you just kiss my neck?"

Quinn chuckled, the hot air from her breath tickling Rachel's
skin.

"I think I just did a lot more than that."

"Uh-huh," Rachel said numbly. "And where did that come

from?"

"I don't know. I woke up with the strangest urge to do it."

Quinn's hand caressed the length of Rachel's body soothingly.
"Are you okay with it?"

"Oh, now you ask me."

"I guess I should have checked with you first."

"That's all right." Rachel placed a kiss against the blonde's

forehead. "I wasn't exactly complaining."

"Yeah, I got that much."

"So..." Rachel started slowly. "When do I get to try it?"

Later, they both agreed that they wanted to spend an extra

night in Seattle.

Interestingly enough, they never got around to seeing any part

of Seattle besides the four walls of the hotel room.

***

Bellingham, WA

While Quinn was in the shower, Rachel spoke to both of her

fathers on the phone. They were very upset, but she already
knew that they would be. Tina had called her earlier that day.
She was at the supermarket with her mom when they ran into
Mr. Schue, and Mrs. Cohen-Chang discovered that Mr. Schue
was in fact not Southern. The scheme unraveled. Mrs. Cohen-
Chang subsequently called the Berrys because everyone knew
that the trip was Rachel's idea.

"We raised you better than this," Rachel's Daddy admonished.

Hearing the disappointment in her fathers' voices hurt worse
than anything else she's ever experienced.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated again and again.
"I'm so sorry, but I had to-"

"No more excuses," her Dad said sternly. "You're coming

home. Right now."

"Dad, I can't do that. I promise, just little bit more time."

"Young lady, you have lost your mind. School is starting soon!
I will get on a plane and drag you back home if I have to."
Rachel pleaded and begged. In the end, she simply outright
refused.

"Rachel." Her Dad sounded so calm that it was scary. "If you
don't come back right now, we will cancel your credit card. And
then when you get home, we will forbid you from seeing Quinn
ever again because this girl is obviously a terrible influence on
you."

Rachel was silent. She could hear the shower being turned off,
and knew that she couldn't carry on this conversation for much
longer. She took a deep breath, and said,

"Do what you have to do."

And for the first time in her life, Rachel hung up on her
fathers.

They called back later that night. Quinn had already fallen
asleep, and Rachel stepped into the hallway to take the call.

"Your Dad has something to say to you," her Daddy said

frostily, although Rachel knew that this time it wasn't her that
he was angry with.

"Bubbala, I'm sorry," her Dad said gently. "I was wrong to
speak to you like that. A family doesn't use threats. A family
communicates with one another. Your Daddy and I are trying
very hard to understand your motivations, but you have to
help us out here. Can you do that?"

Already tearing up, Rachel couldn't help the sobs that broke
out now. Almost against her will, the words spilled out amidst
choked tears,

"I love her." Her throat burned as she gasped for air. "I'm in
love with her. I love her."

***
"Canada's half an hour away," Quinn remarked the next
morning at breakfast. Her unfolded map took up half of the
table.

"Yes," Rachel answered idly. She had yet to tell Quinn about
the conversation she had with her dads last night. She had
told her dads everything, but their sympathies only went as far
as letting her take Quinn to Bakersfield. She had to stop
roaming, stop making random detours. Vacation was over.

"We can be in Vancouver in an hour."

"We don't have our passports."

"Maybe we can charm the mounties into letting us in." Quinn

grinned mischievously.

"My parents called last night," Rachel blurted out.

Quinn was quiet for a moment.

"They want you back?"

"Yes," Rachel replied faintly. "I think it's time."

"Okay," Quinn said. After another beat of silence, she added,

"Canada would've been nice."

"I hear nice things about it."

"We could've stayed there."

"You and me?" Rachel's heart skipped a beat.

"Why not?" Quinn shrugged casually.

"Live in Vancouver?"

"Or Montreal. I've always wanted to learn French."

"Or camp out in the mountains."

"Is that just because you want to be able to wake up every
morning and sing 'the hills are alive with the sound of music'?"

"Maybe," Rachel grinned slyly.

"Even your fantasies are nerdy," Quinn teased. "Okay, what

else?"

"You can be a lumberjack."

"A lumberjack?"

"Well, we're in the mountains. It would only be fitting."

"Okay, I can be a lumberjack," Quinn agreed. "We can live in a

cabin. And raise chickens."

"Are we supposed to eat the chickens?" Rachel looked

dismayed.

"Not these ones. They're our friends."

"That'd be fine."

"And we'll go snowshoeing in the winter."

"Road trip to Alaska in the summer."

"And no one would know us," Quinn finished quietly.

They fell silent, smiling at each other. It was all very silly, but
it made them feel better for a little while.

"We have to go." Rachel's voice was soft and wistful. Quinn
nodded.

"Okay."

***
Salem, OR

Rachel had her fingers buried deep within Quinn's heat, slowly
pumping in and out while she kissed Quinn, their tongues
leisurely overlapping in delicate, sensuous strokes. She twisted
her hand to brush her thumb against Quinn's clit, and elicited
a soft, mewling cry from Quinn's throat. Her curiosity piqued,
Rachel pulled away from Quinn's lips and kissed along the
blonde's cheek and jawline until she reached the neck. She
gently sucked at Quinn's throat and once again pressed her
thumb against that little bundle of nerves. Quinn moaned
again, and Rachel felt the vibrations against her lips.

"Rach," Quinn gasped, the sound reverberating within Rachel

like a ringing bell. The word resonated from Quinn's throat
against Rachel's mouth, its fading tone tickling her and leaving
a sense of deep satisfaction in its wake.

"Rachel," Quinn said. It's all she ever said, but as the word
rippled through Rachel's body, she heard want in its tone and
need in its pitch. As she did, Rachel felt a heavy weight on her
chest, crawling up to her throat. She tried to push it back
down. She wouldn't - couldn't - let Quinn see her like that. In
general, Rachel felt things intensely, so much so that it tended
to scare other people, and she knew it. She couldn't let Quinn
see how much all of this meant to her, for fear that Quinn
would grow frightened and then cold.

Quinn's hand found its way down to Rachel's entrance, and she
gingerly slipped her digits inside. Then the two of them were
joined together in a rapturous push-and-pull, buried deep
within each other. It was too much for Rachel, the sensation of
being inside Quinn and Quinn inside her. Her heart swelled
painfully with love and the heavy sensation in her breast
bubbled violently in an uncontrollable wave of emotions. She
bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop those three, little
poisonous words from rushing out. But as her orgasm took her
over and her body spasmed with pleasure, she couldn't help
the tears that spilled out.

"I'm sorry," she said through stifled sobs. Sorry for the crying.
Sorry for concocting a crazy trip for Quinn to make her feel
better only to drag her back home again. Sorry for being
hopelessly, stupidly in love with her. Sorry for not being able to
say any of it out loud.

"It's okay. It's okay." Quinn hushed her as she wiped away the
tears with her thumbs. She was just grateful for the darkness
and Rachel's tears masking her own.

***

Willows, CA

"Sing me a song," Quinn said. She was lying in bed, curled up

against Rachel, sated and happy after Rachel demonstrated for
her how years of tongue-twisting diction training has helped
her to develop a forceful tongue. It was, in Quinn's humble
opinion, a lovely way to end a long day of driving.

"You don't think what we just did was a sufficient exercise for
my mouth?"

Quinn laughed, and kissed Rachel's bare shoulder.

"I know you're not tired from that. Come on, sing me a song. I
can't sleep." Bakersfield was less than a day's drive away.
They could be there tomorrow. Of course she couldn't sleep.

"What do you want to hear?"

"I don't care. Sing me anything."

Rachel thought for a moment. She decided upon a song.

Cradling Quinn in her arms, she began to sing softly.

"Show me, show me, how you do that trick. The one that
makes me scream, she said. The one that makes me laugh,
she said."

"Hey," Quinn protested. "That's Artie's song for Tina."

"Puck and I collaborated with Artie to come up with an
arrangement for the song," Rachel explained. "We came up
with different styles. They went with Puck's version even
though mine was obviously superior."

"So you're only singing it now because you want someone to

hear your version."

Which, of course, was entirely true. Rachel's massive ego

couldn't bear the thought of her hard-labored arrangement
never seeing the light of day. It was brilliant, damn it. People
needed to hear it.

"Does it matter?" asked Rachel.

"I want a song that means something to you." To us, she

really meant.

"You said you didn't care."

"I know what I said." Quinn sounded very irritated. "But don't
sing it if you don't mean it."

Rachel was beginning to understand why Finn used to walk

around with a perpetually petrified look on his face. One
needed a secret decoder ring to figure out the difference
between what Quinn said and what she really meant. Rachel
should have known that when Quinn said sing me anything,
she really meant sing me something special that lets me know
how you feel about me so we don't have to have an actual
conversation about it. But luckily for the both of them, Rachel
wasn't Finn, and she knew how to appease Quinn. She pulled
back just enough so she could look into Quinn's eyes.

"I mean it," Rachel said. "Just because Artie used it first
doesn't mean that he's the only one who has those kinds of
feelings." Quinn now looked a little embarrassed.

"Okay," she said, trying to be casual. "You can sing it." Rachel
smiled, kissed Quinn's lips, then resumed singing.

"Why are you so far away, she said. Why won't you ever know
that I'm in love with you."

Quinn closed her eyes and listened to the rest of the song in
silence as she allowed herself to relax. The last thing she
heard before she fell asleep was Rachel's voice in her ear,
softly crooning,

"Alone above a raging sea that stole the only girl I loved, and
drowned her deep inside of me."

***

Fresno, CA

They were less than two hours away from Bakersfield. But
Quinn grew paler the closer they got, and so Rachel finally
suggested that they spend the night in Fresno and started
fresh tomorrow. After all, they'd had a long day.

"I spoke to the Baums," Rachel told her. Quinn had asked her
to call. "They're expecting us tomorrow." When Quinn didn't
respond, Rachel sighed and said, "If you-"

"I want to go," Quinn said curtly. "So stop asking." She was
lying on the bed, staring up blankly at the ceiling above.
Rachel sat down on the edge. By now she's figured out that
whenever Quinn took to staring at empty spaces, it was a bad
sign.

"Did I make everything worse?" Her voice was small and tight
with worry. Quinn looked over with confusion, so Rachel
proceeded to explain. "I was only trying to help, but now I
think I've just made everything worse for you. They all said
that this was a bad idea."

"Who's they?"

"Puck and Finn."

"Well, that's your problem right there. They're morons."

"So I didn't make everything worse for you?"

"No," Quinn said. Then she thought about it, and she
momentarily struggled with whether to tell the whole truth. In
the end, she thought that Rachel would appreciate the
honesty. "But I don't know if you really made it better."

"Oh." Rachel did appreciate the honesty. It didn't mean that

she liked it. Quinn read the expression on her face, and hated
herself a little for being the cause of it.

"Come here," she instructed with no force. Rachel heeded her

call; she crawled over, settled down and nestled against her.
They lay together quietly. The silence of the room and the
warmth of each other's bodies helped to calm their chaotic
minds.

"He said I was like driftwood."

"What?"

"Finn. When I asked him to come on the trip. He said that I'm
just a dead, rotten piece of wood for you to grab on to as you
were drowning."

Quinn exhaled sharply. She made a note to give Finn a stern

talking-to when she got the chance... but on the other hand,
maybe he had a point.

"You're not driftwood," Quinn murmured. "You're more like a

life ring."

"What's the difference?"

"Well..." Quinn stalled for an answer. "Orange is a prettier

color."

Rachel thought that there wasn't much of a difference at all.

She thought that both items served the same function. It was
something to grab on to and it temporarily saved you from a
watery grave. Everything's okay for a little while. But
eventually you realize that you're still cold and drifting in the
middle of the ocean with no land in sight and that there are
probably sharks in the water waiting to eat you. Then
everything's not okay after all. So that was her role. She was
the driftwood life ring that only made everything okay for a
little while. She could keep Quinn from drowning but she
couldn't save Quinn. And Rachel was finally starting to see it.

"You know he didn't mean anything by it," Quinn now said. "He
wasn't trying to be hurtful."

"I know that." Rachel gave Quinn an odd look as she wondered
where the hell that came from.

"Because I know that his opinion matters to you."

"Of course it does. He's my friend." Rachel couldn't emphasize

that word enough. Quinn responded with a thin smile that
didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I think his opinion means more to you than Artie's or Kurt's,"
she said. "And that's okay. His opinion means a lot to me too,
even if he won't talk to me anymore."

"Why do we always end up talking about him?" Rachel was

always good humored when Quinn was temperamental or
moody or just downright nasty. But now, her voice carried an
undisguised undercurrent of irritation. "He's not here. It
doesn't matter."

"I'm only saying," Quinn replied gently. "Finn's a great guy. He

would never try to hurt either of us."

Rachel couldn't grasp what Quinn was trying to say.

Or maybe she just didn't want to.

***

Bakersfield, CA
Quinn raked her nails over the leather of the armrest, over and
over again until she made marks in them. Puck was probably
going to yell at her for that when he found out, but neither girl
could be bothered to think of that now. Quinn had been like
this all day: jittery, cagey, going off the walls. She was
practically hyperventilating when they passed the sign that
read "Bakersfield - 30 miles". Several times, Rachel wanted to
ask her if she was sure that she wanted to go, but Quinn had
already made it clear that she didn't want to be asked
anymore. So Rachel just drove on.

Their phones buzzed at the same time just as they drove past
the city limits. Quinn checked hers first.

"It's from Puck. He says he's at the airport." She checked

Rachel's next. "He sent it to you too. Did you know about
this?"

"No," Rachel answered, sounding just as shocked as Quinn.

"But I suppose this explains why he called me last night
wanting to know what time we'd get into Bakersfield today."

"You didn't tell me that he called."

"You were asleep. Besides, I thought he was just making

conversation."

"About our schedule?"

"Yes, why not?"

"You thought that Puck was making small talk with you about
our itinerary."

"Well, Noah and I are friends."

Quinn only shook her head. The task of lecturing Rachel on

social norms would have to wait for another day.

"I wonder what he's doing here," Quinn mused.

"We'd better go pick him up and find out."

That turned out to be easier said than done, since neither of

them knew where the airport was. They got there eventually,
albeit after two hours, one screaming match, countless
consultations of the map and three stops to ask for directions.
But since it was a small airport, once they arrived they had no
problems finding Puck, who was by now nodding off in the
waiting area. Quinn woke him with by nudging his foot. When
he opened his eyes and saw the girls, a lazy smile stretched
across his face.

"Sup, ladies?"

"What are you doing here?" were the first words out of Quinn's
mouth. There was no menace to her tone; she was simply too
curious to hold back.

"Good to see you too, Quinn." Puck stood up and stretched.

"Rachel." He gave Rachel a hug; he hesitated when he turned
to Quinn. Quinn rolled her eyes with feigned exasperation, and
hugged him.

"Okay. Now what are you doing here?"

"I came to see my kid. You didn't think I'd miss that, did you?"

"But what about your mom?" Quinn asked with worry. "What
about the pool cleaning business? How did you pay for the
plane ticket?"

Quinn was glad to see Puck. However, she had some valid
concerns to address before she could allow herself to relax and
celebrate his presence. She wasn't prone to paranoia, but she
knew him well. She wouldn't put it past him to deal drugs, rob
a bank or kidnap people and harvest their kidneys to sell on
the black market in order to pay for a plane ticket to get here.
It was sweet, in Puck's own way. Sweet and highly illegal.

Puck grinned. "I had some help."

He proceeded to detail the situation for them. Mike and Matt

volunteered to take over the pool cleaning. Brittany and
Santana were going to help his mom get around. Artie and
Tina were going to keep an eye on his sister. As for the plane
tickets, everyone chipped in a couple of bucks which of course
wasn't nearly enough, but it had been a good starting point.
Puck worked extra hours. Kurt sold one of his form-fitting
knee-length sweaters. Mercedes baked cookies and sold them
at her church.

"...But in the end, we were still a little short," Puck told them.
Quinn felt her chest seize with anxiety. Here it comes. He was
going to tell her that he'd been reduced to selling black tar
heroin to elementary school children or something equally
outlandish. "But there's this guy who spent all summer
working as a lifeguard. He had a lot saved up because all his
friends were on a trip that he was too much of a loser to go
on. He lent me the rest, but there was just one catch."

"Which is?" Quinn asked.

"He wanted to come." Puck watched Quinn's face closely,

vaguely concerned about how she would react.

"He's here?" Quinn's pitch raised two octaves. As if on cue, a

familiar voice rang out,

"Hey, guys!" And there, in all his tall, doofy glory, was Finn
Hudson, with an easy grin stretched from ear to ear.

***

On the way to the car, Finn and Quinn walked ahead while
Rachel and Puck trailed behind.

"I wish you would have warned me," Rachel repeated.

"He didn't want me to."

"You should have warned me anyway."

Puck only shrugged. He would never admit it out loud, but now
that Finn was speaking to him again, Puck wasn't about to do
anything to lose his trust again. Besides, he really, really didn't
want to get dragged into this bizarre love triangle.

Fifteen feet ahead of them, the former golden couple were

struggling to find something to say to each other.

"So..." Finn started awkwardly. "You look nice."

Finn was even taller than Quinn remembered him. They hadn't
seen each other in months, and Quinn wondered if it was
possible that he was still growing. She was suddenly thankful
that the baby wasn't Finn's. Just trying to imagine pushing a
Finn-sized baby out of her vagina made her shiver in fear and
pain.

"Thank you," she answered politely. "You too." Finn nodded.

"I got tan."

"I can see that."

"Because I spent a lot of time by the pool."

"So I heard."

"You look tan too."

"I spent a lot of time on the road."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

This wasn't one of their more exciting exchanges. They were

both aware of how painfully, awkwardly polite they were with
each other, delicately tiptoeing around the big issue at the tip
of their tongues. Each waited for the other to go first. As
usual, it was Finn who caved first.

"Look, I know that you've been having a hard time and all with
giving up the baby for adoption and everything and I know
that I haven't been around for any of it, but it was just... you
know..." He shrugged heavily. "I'm sorry I didn't help."

"Finn, believe me, you don't have to apologize for that." In

fact, it only made her feel guiltier. After all these months, she
still had trouble looking him in the eyes.

"Because it's like..." Finn faltered slightly as his teenaged brain

tried to verbalize these all-too-grown-up emotional
complexities. "One day, you were the most important person
in my life. And then suddenly you weren't. You can't just go
from being everything to nothing. That's not right, is it?"

"It doesn't seem like it."

"I want us to be friends again," he said earnestly.

"You would have to forgive me." Quinn's voice was small and
uncertain.

"I can do that." He paused, then amended his answer. "Well, I

can work on it."

"That's a start," Quinn said with a soft smile. Finn grinned

back. For a split second, it almost felt like old times again.

"Just friends though," Finn added quickly. "Quinn, I'm sorry,

but I don't know if I can have us be us again. I just can't do
it."

"That's, um, that's all right," she replied, trying not to sound
too casual about it. "Really. I'm good with friends." Relief
flooded Finn's features as a smile started to spread across his
face.

"Good. Because I, um, I might... I might... be ready to start

something new." He hurriedly continued with, "If that's okay
with you." Quinn felt her heart seize with such a terrible pain
that, for a moment, she thought that her heart must have
stopped. But her luck wasn't that good. She was still
breathing, her heart kept pumping, and she continued to feel
the ugly, bitter writhing of jealousy in the pit of her stomach.
She continued smiling as she made herself say,
"Finn, you don't have to ask for my permission. You're a great
guy. You deserve to be with someone wonderful." At least that
much wasn't a lie. "I'm happy for you." But that was.

***

"I didn't ask him here."

On the way to the Baums' house, Rachel convinced everyone

that it would be impolite to show up empty-handed, so they
stopped at a supermarket for flowers and pie. She persuaded
Puck to take Finn next door to the toy store to look for a
present for the baby so that she could have some time alone
with Quinn.

"I don't care," Quinn said flatly. She seemed more interested
in the flower petals than in what Rachel had to say.

"Quinn, please, you have to believe me," Rachel pleaded

desperately in a low voice. "I swear, I haven't spoken to him
since the night we first made love."

Quinn flinched. "Don't call it that."

"What should I call it then?"

"I don't care. Just don't call it that."

Rachel relented. It didn't seem like an important point right

now. "Fine. I haven't spoken to him since the night we were
together. I didn't ask him to come."

"I believe you," Quinn replied coolly. "But I don't care."

"Don't do this. Please don't shut me-"

"God damn it, Rachel! Not everything is about you!" Spinning

around to face the shorter girl, Quinn's eyes blazed with
intense resentment. That look alone was enough to make
Rachel cower. "I'm about to see my daughter again. The child
that I carried for nine months and then gave up. Can you
understand that? Right now, I don't care about you or Finn or
Puck any of these stupid petty melodramas, okay? I. Don't.
Care."

Rachel shrunk back at the outburst, the fear and shame

starkly evident in her eyes. She now saw how terribly selfish it
was of her to make this situation about her, but Quinn's words
stung nonetheless. Quinn, for her part, instantly regretted her
harsh words, but she didn't know how to take them back.

"You're right. I'm sorry." Rachel turned to the display of

flowers before them. She picked up a bouquet. "I think the
lilies would be nice."

***

The four of them had been sitting in the parked car for twenty
minutes.

"Are we going to do this or not? Puck finally asked.

Next to him in the front passenger seat, Quinn gazed gloomily

at the idyllic suburban home before them. There was a light on
inside and, against the dark backdrop of night, made the
house look warm and inviting. She knew that they were all
waiting for her, including the couple inside. They had looked
out the window once or twice. If they had seen the car full of
teenagers parked across the street and figured out that these
were their guests, they were kind enough not to let it show.
Quinn had only met them twice. Once before the baby was
born, and once after. She wanted to keep the familiarity
between them to a minimum. They seemed like nice people,
but Quinn hadn't planned on seeing them again. She never
expected to end up here, all the way across the country and at
their front door.

"We're going to wait," Rachel said serenely to Puck. She was

so eerily calm that he wisely decided not to push the issue.
"It's okay," Quinn said. "I'm ready." She gathered her courage
with a sharp inhale of breath, then opened the car door,
climbing out into the humid California night. Puck, Rachel and
Finn followed her. But when they started for the house, Rachel
stopped Finn by placing her hand on his arm.

"I think it should just be them tonight," she said, nodding at

Quinn and Puck. "If that's what everyone wants." And by
'everyone', she really meant the girl she was staring at. Puck
understood. He didn't bother replying because he knew that
his opinion didn't count right now.

"It's okay with me," Finn said.

"Thank you, Rachel," said Quinn quietly.

"We'll pick you up when you're ready," Rachel told her. "Just
give us a call." Quinn nodded. Finn and Rachel watched as
Puck and Quinn walked up to the front door and rang the
doorbell. The door was opened almost instantly, and the
embarrassed, frightened teenagers were ushered inside with
excited chattering from their hosts. Finn looked over at Rachel.

"So, um, what do you want to do now?" His smile was shy and
nervous. There was a time, not too long ago, when Rachel
would have been taken in by that. She would have melted into
a puddle at his feet, flung her arms around his neck and cried
out, "Whatever you want to do with me!" But that was then.

"I have to ask you a question." Her no-nonsense and focused

demeanor visibly unnerved Finn.

"Um, alright."

"Did you come here for me?" Her tone was accusing, which
puzzled Finn a great deal. He knew something was wrong
because she had been ignoring his calls and texts; he just
didn't know what. He thought that things had been going well
between them. Then one day, she simply stopped responding
to him. He was in a panic and about to call the police when
Puck told him that she and Quinn were both fine. To prove it,
Finn watched as Puck texted them both an off-color joke. They
both responded within five minutes with appropriate disgust.
So that was how Finn found out that Rachel was ignoring him.
It hurt more than he thought it would have.

"I came here for Quinn," he replied honestly. "I saw how
everyone was pitching in to help and there I was, sitting on my
ass all summer. I wanted to be here for her. Besides... I spent
a long time thinking that Drizzle was mine. I kinda want to see
how she turned out." He added an awkward shrug. "But...
yeah, it crossed my mind that you'd be here and I can ask you
why you haven't been responding to any of my calls or texts.
What the hell, Rachel? I thought you were dead!"

For the second time in one night, Rachel felt the overwhelming
burden of guilt.

"Finn," she said, as gently as possible. "We need to talk."

---

Quinn called around 10 p.m., so Finn and Rachel left the diner
they were sitting in to pick them up. Quinn and Puck got into
the backseat quietly. Quinn's eyes were red and it was obvious
that she had been crying. Rachel resisted the urge to ask how
it went. No one said a word on the drive back.

They all stayed in the same hotel room to save some money.
Initially, Rachel had been afraid that this arrangement would
result in bloodshed. As it turned out, she had nothing to worry
about.

Quinn went straight to bed, or at least pretended to.

Puck listened to music on his iPod.

Finn just glowered silently.

Rachel sat on the bed with a book in her lap, staring at the
words but not seeing them.

The four of them sat in that little room, pointedly avoiding eye
contact or acknowledgment of one another as each stewed in
their own private miseries. They were engulfed in silence, the
air permeated with the tension of unspoken resentment.

Rachel thought that she would have preferred the bloodshed

instead.

So ended their first night in Bakersfield.

***

The Baums allowed the teenagers to take the baby out for the
day. They went to the Valley Plaza Mall, idly pushing the
stroller through the open-air walkways, enjoying the good
weather and focusing more on the baby than the stores.

"She's so adorable," Rachel cooed for the umpteenth time.

"Of course she is. What'd you expect?" Puck boasted. "She's
got a hot mama and a fine stud for a dad. My little tyke's
going to grow up to be a heartbreaker."

"Don't flatter yourself," Quinn said dryly. "We're lucky that the
Fabray genes overpowered the Puckerman genes. I was afraid
she'd come out spitting tobacco and cursing up a storm."

"Don't worry, she has plenty of time to become a bad ass."

Puck leaned over and lifted the baby from the stroller, cradling
her in his arms. "Too bad she can't learn it from her old man.
We would've been an awesome team. Wouldn't we, kiddo?"

As Puck gazed wistfully into his child's eyes, the other three
teenagers shifted awkwardly on their feet, not knowing what
to say. Suddenly, Puck sniffed, then scrunched up his nose in
disgust. He held the baby out at arm's length and turned his
head away.

"Ew! I think Baby Badass just dropped a huge load."

"Noah! Don't hold her out like that! You're going to give her a
complex." Rachel took the baby from him. She held the girl
close to her, even though the baby did stink quite badly.

"What complex? She's not even a year old!"

"These are crucial moments in a child's psychological

development! Your body language towards her will give her
the social cues she will carry with her for the rest of her life,"
Rachel argued. "You need to hold her close and show her that
she is loved, foul fecal odor and all."

"You're insane," Puck told her.

"Don't talk to her like that!" Finn snapped at him. Puck looked
at him with bewilderment and a hint of irritation.

"What the hell, dude? What's got your balls in a twist?"

"Watch your language!" Quinn demanded. "And be nice to

Finn."

"Are you kidding me? He started it!" Puck bellowed.

"Don't yell at Quinn," Rachel admonished him.

"Berry, stay out of it!"

"I said don't talk to her like that!" Finn yelled at Puck again.

"It's okay," Rachel said. "Noah didn't mean any harm."

"Stop defending him!" Finn retorted peevishly. "I can't believe

you would just let him get away with it! What's wrong with
you?"

"Okay, you don't talk to her like that," Quinn said pointedly to
him.

"How about we all stop yelling? Let's all just calm down and
take a deep breath," Rachel suggested. She shifted the baby
from one arm to the other. "She still needs to be changed."
"There's a restroom back that way," Quinn said. She looked to
Puck and Finn, who were still scowling at one another. "Try not
to kill each other."

But as soon as Rachel and Quinn were out of sight, Puck spat
out,

"Seriously, dude. What the hell?"

"Nevermind," Finn muttered even as he shot hateful looks at

Puck.

"No, you've been acting like a dick all day." And they had been
getting along so well too. If Puck was the sort of guy to admit
that he had feelings, he might say that his was a little bruised.
"What the fuck? We gonna talk about it or are you just going
to keep on being a pussy?"

Now that was too much for Finn. He had held his tongue out of
deference for Quinn and the baby. It hadn't seemed like the
right time for a confrontation. But he'd be damned before he
just stood there while Puck insulted him. He drew his fist back
and decked his friend across the face. Puck staggered back.
When he gained his bearings, his face was set rigidly with cold
fury. As much as he liked having Finn as his best friend again,
this was the third time that he's gotten smacked in the face on
this trip and he was really sick of getting his ass kicked.
Besides, while there was no question that he had deserved the
first two ass-kickings, he had no idea what this one was even
about. Puck resolved to get to the bottom of this mystery. But
not before he tackled Finn to the ground. The boys twisted and
wrestled as they flailed their fists about. More often than not,
their punches missed each other. It wasn't a particularly manly
fight. In the end, it's Finn who shoved Puck away.

"Cut it out! You're going to get us kicked out!" Finn panted as

he unsteadily climbed to his feet. True enough, they were
gathering the curious stares of passer-bys and store
employees, some of whom seem poised to call security at any
moment.

"You started it," Puck mumbled petulantly without much bite.

He certainly wasn't afraid of mall cops, but he was afraid of
incurring the girls' wrath.

Finn ignored him and went to sit by the edge of a fountain.

Puck followed him, but didn't sit down. He stood before Finn,
keeping a careful distance just in case the taller boy decided to
attack him again. He folded his arms across his chest, staring
down at his sulking friend and occasional enemy.

"So you gonna tell me what bug you've got up your ass or
what?" Finn didn't reply right away. He thought that maybe
he'd just ignore that mohawked douchebag, but in the end, his
desire for a confrontation won out.

"Rachel," Finn forced out.

"Yeah, what about her?"

"You know what you did," Finn said scathingly. "It wasn't
enough for you to go after Quinn? You had to have Rachel
too?"

"Dude, that was months ago! And you were still with Quinn
then!"

"I'm not talking about then!"

"Hey, asshole. What the fuck are you going on about?" Puck
questioned irritably. "You're not making any sense."

"Rachel's in love with you!" Finn flared. "She told me!" Well,
that was certainly news to Puck.

"Rachel? In love with me?" he asked incredulously. "Did she

tell you that?"

"She said that we couldn't be together anymore because she'd

fallen in love with somebody else," Finn said sorely. "Who else
would it be?" Puck suddenly felt very indignant for getting
punched in the face by Finn. Now he was getting beat up for
things that he had nothing to do with.
"That's what you're pissed about?" Puck snorted mirthlessly.
"You're an idiot. Rachel's not in love with me."

"Really." Finn's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Who then?"

"Look, man, I know that math isn't really your strong suit. But
there's only four of us here. It's not you, and it's definitely not
me," Puck said. "Figure it out, Einstein."

"Rachel isn't in love with herself," Finn said with exasperation.

"Maybe she has a really big ego, but-"

"It's Quinn, you fucking moron!" came Puck's outburst. "She's

in love with Quinn!"

"Quinn?" Finn pronounced uncertainly, like it was one of those

vocabulary words that Mr. Schue assigned for Spanish class.
Puck shrugged, and watched as Finn's face twisted through
various stages of emotion as he attempted to digest this
information. "That can't be true."

Sure, he knew that Quinn and Rachel had been spending a lot
of time together this summer, even before the road trip, but
he figured that it was only because Quinn had no one else to
turn to and Rachel was Rachel. He thought that the two of
them had an awkward, tenuous friendship out of necessity and
mutual loneliness. Since Finn always refused to be anywhere
Quinn was near, he never got to see the two girls interact, and
his misconceptions went uncorrected. He never dreamed that
the two of them could be actual friends, let alone anything
more. Because, really, who would have thought? It was Quinn
and Rachel. He thought that they had nothing in common
besides himself and glee club.

"You've missed a lot." Puck cautiously sat down at the

fountain's edge, a good five feet away from Finn. "Some shit
happened. Things are different now."

"You're lying," Finn said stiffly.

"Call Santana if you don't believe me," Puck challenged. "Or

Brittany or Mike or Artie. Call anyone who was with us. They'll
tell you."

"So... everyone knew?" There was a hint of despondency in

Finn's voice that Puck didn't quite pick up on.

"We guessed. The two of them were always sneaking off

together to the bathroom like they thought no one would
notice. We didn't ask. You know Quinn isn't exactly the out-
and-proud type."

"Do you think..." Finn swallowed hard. "Do you think that they
were sleeping together?"

"I sure as hell hope so," Puck chortled. His laughter died when
he saw the pained expression on Finn's face. "What?"

"She was cheating on me," Finn said bitterly. While he had

been hurt by Quinn and Puck's betrayal, he couldn't say that
he had been terribly shocked. Rachel, on the other hand... he
just never expected it from her. "Do I have a sign on my
forehead that says 'Fuck Me Over'?"

"Since when were you and Rachel going out?"

"We had a date in Tulsa," Finn said. When Puck looked baffled,
Finn gave him a quick explanation of the video date he'd had
with Rachel.

"...And since then we've been talking on the phone a lot and
doing stuff," Finn finished.

"Yeah, I know all about that stuff," Puck smirked. "But come
on, man. Sex isn't dating. Especially phone sex. Did you ask
her to be your girlfriend?"

"Well... no," said Finn hesitatingly. "But I assumed-"

"Did you ask her not to see other people?"

"No, but I thought that-"

"Did she ask you not to see other people?"

"No, but-"

"Did you tell her that you love her?"

"Of course not."

"Did she tell you that she loves you?"

"No, but she does," Finn answered. "We all know that."

"So let me get this straight. Because Rachel Berry was in love
with you last year, you assumed that she'd still be in love with
you. And you thought that the two of you would automatically
be in a relationship because you had some fake date with her
over the internet and some phone sex."

"It's Rachel," Finn said. "She wanted us to be together. She

always has."

"Had. You're past tense, bro." Then he amended with a wince,

"We're past tense."

"But..." Finn was having such a hard time comprehending all of

this. Puck pitied him. But only a little.

"I'm not saying that it doesn't suck. It does. It really fucking

sucks." Puck shrugged. "I'm just saying that maybe you
dropped the ball on this one a little. You had your window.
Now you don't."

Finn fell silent. Somehow, knowing that Rachel loved Quinn

and not Puck made him feel worse. Somewhere in the back of
his mind, he had thought that even if Rachel wanted Puck, it
might only be a fleeting, physical thing. There was a good
chance that she would still ultimately choose him over Puck,
like Quinn did. But if Rachel loved Quinn - that was just an
entirely different ballgame, one that he didn't understand at
all.

"It's this stupid trip," Finn said miserably. "If I only came on
this trip, maybe it'd be different." Puck nudged him to alert
him to the presence of the approaching girls. Rachel was still
fawning over the baby and, in turn, Quinn.

"Actually, dude," Puck said in a low voice. "I don't think either
of us ever had much of a chance."

***

Dinner, like the night before, was an awkward affair.

Finn refused to make eye contact with any of them. When

anyone spoke to him, he only grunted or, when forced to,
answered with short phrases.

Rachel tried to make conversation, but no one was interested.

She kept sneaking glances at Quinn out of the corner of her
eyes. Every time she did, Finn stabbed at the meatloaf on his
plate. His actions didn't escape Quinn's attention; paranoid
and anxious, she tried not to pay too much attention to
Rachel.

Puck chomped through his burger noisily and minded his own
business.

So ended their second night in Bakersfield.

***

"So... sunglow gold or French beige?" asked Puck.

"I don't know," Quinn said frankly. She gazed at the paint
canisters before her with anguish, as if this was the hardest
choice she's ever had to make. It was their last day in
Bakersfield, and the Baums invited them over to paint the
baby's room. They had already painted the room before the
baby's arrival, but this was a kind gesture. They would let
Quinn decorate the walls of her baby's room. The Baums
thought that it'd be better if their daughter grew up with
something her birth mother left her. So Quinn, with Rachel's
help, designed a simple mural - a red wavy strip of musical
notes - for the wall. Now Finn and Rachel were drawing its
outline in charcoal while Puck and Quinn picked out a color to
paint the rest of the room with.

"Just pick one," Puck prompted.

"What if I make the wrong choice?"

"It's a color," Puck said impatiently. "You can't pick the wrong
one."

"But what if she doesn't like it?" Quinn whispered. "It's the
only thing she has to remember me by."

"It's not the only thing," Puck said. "You'll give her other
presents and shit when you visit." Quinn gave him a look he
couldn't decipher.

"I've decided." Her voice was quiet and calm. "I won't be
coming back here. I can't tell you what to do, but I don't think
you should either." This certainly came as a surprise to him.
He momentarily struggled to comprehend this, but in the end,
he decided just to ask.

"Why the hell not?"

"She deserves a normal life. She's not going to have that with
her birth parents coming around three or four times a year. I
don't want to force that on her."

"But..." Puck's face was contorted with confusion. "I thought

you wanted a relationship with her."

"The Baums will tell her about us. When she's old enough, she
can decide for herself if she wants a relationship with us. If
and when she does, we'll come back. Until then, I think we
should stay away and let her have a normal childhood. Or at
least as normal a childhood as anyone can have," Quinn said
evenly. "But I can't tell you what to do."
Puck thought this over. Finally, he nodded in assent. He wasn't
terribly keen on the idea, but what Quinn said made sense to
him. Then again, Puck was never very good at these kinds of
decisions. If Quinn had said that she thought it was a good
idea to dip the baby head-to-toe in chocolate and set her free
into the wild, he'd probably go along with that too.

"Guess we didn't have to come out here after all."

"No, it was good for me to see her again, if only to say

goodbye," Quinn replied. "And now I know we made the right
choice giving her up. The two of us never could have raised
her. She has good people who can love her and take care of
her properly. I needed to see that for myself."

"Well, you know who you have to thank for that."

"Damn her and her meddling," Quinn chuckled, but there

wasn't much joy in it. Puck didn't know how to broach this
next subject, but he knew that he had to do it anyway.

"She's good to you," he told her. "You should be good to her."

Quinn mulled this over carefully.

"I know that I can be brash," she conceded.

"That's not what I'm talking about. Honestly, I think she might
like it when you're being a bitch." It was the only logical
explanation Puck could come up with for Rachel Berry. "But
don't string her along. She still thinks that the two of you are
going to be together when you get back to Lima."

"We are not-"

"Quinn," Puck interrupted harshly. "I don't like to hit girls,

especially not my baby mama. But if you deny this thing with
Rachel one more time, I'm gonna beat you." Quinn didn't have
a snappy comeback for that. Honestly, it was exhausting to
keep denying it over and over again. But sometimes it seemed
as if she couldn't help herself. It always came on like a knee-
jerk reaction.
"Rachel deserves better than this," Puck continued. "If you
don't want her, cut her loose."

"I never said that I didn't want her," Quinn answered in a small
voice.

"Well, it's not like you're planning on keeping her around,"

Puck said cynically. Quinn didn't have a comeback for that
either. "You know that she broke up with Finn for you?"

"No," Quinn replied quietly, a little stunned. "I didn't."

"You gotta talk to her."

Quinn nodded numbly. But there was still one more thing she
needed to know.

"What made you think I wouldn't keep her around?"

"Because, Quinn Fabray, you're a big damn coward," Puck said.

"And no one knows that better than me."

***

In the end, Quinn went with the French beige. They spent the
rest of the day at the Baum house, alternating between
painting and playing with the baby. The day went by much
faster than it should have. Soon it was dark, then it was late,
and they had to leave. In the morning, they were to drive back
to Lima.

The goodbye was hard. Everyone cried, but that was to be

expected. Puck and Finn excused themselves first, their
macho-masculine sensibilities overwhelmed, and they went
outside to wait in the car to avoid prolonging the messy
emotional scene. Rachel went next so that she could give
Quinn another few minutes with the baby. The Baums left
Quinn in the living room, holding her daughter for what was to
be the last time for a good, long time.
The goodbye was hard, but Quinn knew that it was right. She
planted a gentle kiss on her child's head, then set her down in
the crib that was being temporarily placed in the living room
while the baby's freshly painted room was being aired out.

As she was on her way out of the house, she spotted the
unused canister of sunglow gold. Inspiration seized her. She
grabbed the canister and a small brush, and dashed back up
the stairs to the baby's room. There, underneath the red
musical notations, she added a gold star.

She couldn't really explain why she did it, but it just felt right.

***

"We should talk," Quinn said softly. It pleased her to see

Rachel respond with a bright and guileless beam. It hurt her
terribly to know that smile wouldn't be there for long.

The two of them left the hotel room for a walk down the
street. It took a few minutes of silence for Quinn to work up
the courage and strength to speak.

"So... we go home tomorrow," Quinn commented idly.

"Are you okay with that?" Rachel couldn't disguise her worried
tone. Her concern made everything that much harder.

"We've been gone long enough," Quinn answered. "Rach, I

want to thank you. This trip - traveling with everyone, being
away from Lima, seeing the baby - all of it, it's helped me so
much. I know that you had to drag me every step of the way,
but I'm glad that you did."

And it's like someone told Rachel Berry that she'd won the lead
in the Broadway revival of Funny Girl or something, because
her face lit up with unrestrained joy. That grin might as well
have been a plunged dagger in Quinn's heart. She could
already feel the lump in her throat, the tears gathering behind
her eyes.
"I want you to know that I don't regret anything," Quinn
continued in a quivering voice. "I need you to know how much
all of this meant to me. You, especially." And there it was. The
edges of Rachel's smile faltered with uncertainty. Because
while Rachel might be socially inept, she wasn't stupid.

"I know." There was caution in Rachel's voice. She knew what
was coming. She knew and she didn't want to. This was an
oncoming train but all she could do was stand there and watch
and wait for the collision.

"You know that we can't carry on the way we've been," Quinn
said. "We have to stop."

Rachel thought that because she had been expecting it, it

should hurt less. She was very, very wrong about that.

"Why not?"

"You know why." Quinn could feel the tears falling, slowly
trailing its way down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. The
simplest actions seemed impossible right now.

"It doesn't have to be that way."

Quinn didn't want to get into that debate. She didn't expect
Rachel to understand it. For Rachel, love was the end-all be-all
to any scenario. Love conquered all. Love shall overcome.
Quinn knew better than that.

So instead, she just said, "Finn's a great guy. He would never

do anything to hurt either of us. We shouldn't hurt him either."

"I think we're way past that now." Rachel knew that she had
treated Finn appallingly. He had been stoic when she told him
that they couldn't be together anymore, but she could tell that
he was hurt. Her actions towards Finn had been regrettable,
but it was too late to take it back. All she could do now was
resolve to make it up to him in the future - as a friend.

"Finn loves you," Quinn said.

"Finn wants me." Rachel's voice was beginning to tremble.
"There's a difference."

"And you want him." Quinn didn't have the right to sound
dejected about that, but she did anyway. She couldn't help it.

"Yes," Rachel conceded. "But I don't love him."

"Give it time. He grows on you." Sometimes Quinn thought of

Finn as a Chia Pet. In the beginning, he's a bit dull and just
there, but with a little time, he could be kind of neat. "It
shouldn't be a problem for you."

"What is that supposed to be mean?" Rachel wished that she

didn't sound so defensive, but she didn't like what Quinn was
implying. Yet for once, Quinn hadn't meant to insult. It just
came out that way.

"It's just that... you're..." Quinn struggled for the least

offensive way to say this. "It's easy for you to like people."

Quinn couldn't deny that it bothered her to see Rachel easily

flit from Finn to Puck to Mr. Schue to whoever else was around
that week. Rachel's affections were intense but mercurial.
Quinn couldn't begrudge her the easy transference; she
supposed that this was what most teenagers were supposed to
be like. Quinn simply wasn't like that. Her repressive sense of
propriety was etched so deep that she could really only be
affectionate when her desires were so rare and strong that it
defied all her attempts at suppression, like they were with
Rachel. In the back of her mind, Quinn had the vague idea
that even if this was painful for Rachel right now, the brunette
would bounce back soon enough, just like she did from Finn
and from Mr. Schue. Quinn never considered that she'd be any
different.

"You make me sound like some sort of a harlot." Indignation

seeped into Rachel's tone. "And you can't just let Finn have
me. It doesn't work that way."

"This is the best thing for everyone," Quinn insisted. "With

glee club winning competitions and Finn as the school
quarterback, you'll be the new elites. No more slushies. No
more name-calling. You won't be at the bottom of the social
ladder anymore. It's what you've always wanted." Quinn did
know Rachel's weaknesses, and she could see the flicker of
hesitation in the brunette's eyes. But it was gone just as
quickly as it came on.

"And what if none of that matters to me anymore?"

"Well, it matters to me."

"Quinn-"

"Rach, I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't." Quinn's voice was

saturated with anguish. The tears streamed violently as she
became utterly overwhelmed. It felt like nothing short of
cutting out pieces of her heart. And she was doing it to herself.
"Everything last year with Puck and Finn and the baby and the
Cheerios and my parents- oh, god, my parents. I can't. I can't.
I don't know how to take any more. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but
I'm just not that strong."

In one short year, Quinn's life had been turned upside down.
Her sophomore year had been filled with trials and tribulations
that most people never encounter in a lifetime. The idea of
having her junior year plagued with the scandal of coming out
- with Rachel Berry as her girlfriend, no less - that wasn't an
easy concept to swallow. On top of that, Quinn knew how
people like her parents operated. To fall in love with someone
of the same gender was worse than social ostracization, worse
than premarital sex, worse than getting knocked up at sixteen
and giving up the baby for adoption. And Quinn was
surrounded by people like her parents. It was her entire
community, it was her life, and it was all she's ever known.

Rachel was a girl weaned on The Princess Bride and Celine

Dion songs. She might have understood Quinn's struggles on
an intellectual level, but it stopped short of true empathy.
Rachel was lucky that way. All she could offer was platitudes.

"You're stronger than you think, Quinn," Rachel said.

"It doesn't matter." Quinn wiped her eyes with the back of her
hands. She was beginning to reign in her emotions. "What do
you think is going to happen with us? We're in high school.
How many happily-ever-afters do you get from that? How long
do you think we'd last? Six months? A year? Until college? And
then what? When we graduate, you'll go to New York and your
parents will still love you. I'll have nothing. I'm sorry, but I'm
not prepared to throw my entire life away for a high school
romance."

"But you don't know that. You don't know any of that." Rachel
was surprisingly calm, although it took every inch of her
resolve to be that way. "You don't know what the future holds,
Quinn."

Quinn had to acknowledge that was true. But then so was this:

"But, maybe," Quinn said. "Maybe I just don't think that you're
worth the risk."

***

They were supposed to leave Bakersfield for Lima early in the

morning, so Puck and Finn should have been in bed asleep
hours ago. But they waited up because Rachel and Quinn
hadn't returned yet.

It was 2 a.m. when the girls finally got back to the room.

There were no hellos, no greetings, not even a faint

acknowledgment. They came in, got ready for bed in silence,
and crawled underneath the covers - each sleeping as far away
from the other as possible. The boys were too afraid to ask
any questions, but they didn't really have to. Heartbreak was
written all over the girls' faces.

So ended their third and last night in Bakersfield.

***

Bullhead City, AZ

"What happened last night?" Finn asked.

They had pulled off the highway to stop for lunch and gas.
They no longer had any reason to stay out on the road, and
since school was starting soon, they all agreed to head straight
back to Lima with minimal stops. But with 2,300 miles in
between them, it was still going to be a few days before they
got back. The entire car ride that day had been spent in
silence, and Finn thought that if he had to suffer through the
awkward silence, he should at least get to know what was
going on.

"You were right," Rachel answered simply. "It ended badly."

"Yeah, but when I said that, I was thinking more like Quinn
would pull your hair out for all the lying and stuff," Finn said.
"I didn't expect... you know, lesbian drama." Rachel felt a jolt
of surprise, but only because she had never spoken frankly
about this topic with Finn before.

"Neither did I."

"I'm sorry things turned out like this."

"Me too," Rachel said with a small, sad nod. "I'm sorry that I
didn't tell you. I should have been honest with you from the
beginning."

"Yeah, that was really uncool."

"I'm really sorry."

Finn shrugged. It hurt, and it was going to hurt for a while, but
he could tell that the girls were in more pain than he was. If
there was ever a time to put aside his own miseries for the
sake of his friends, it was now.
"So, um... I guess you're pretty set on Quinn?"

"Pretty set."

"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly, with just the slightest

tinge of hope. "Because you were pretty into me last year,
then Puck, then Mr. Schue. So maybe it's like one of those,
um, fancy things."

"Passing fancy?"

"Yeah, that."

"No," she answered sadly. "No, I think this is different."

"Yeah," Finn breathed out in resignation. "I was afraid that

you'd say that." Then he offered her a friendly grin. "It
would've been easier to be in love with me though."

"Yes," Rachel agreed. "It would have."

***

Holbrook, AZ

They drove until none of them could stand to be in the car

anymore, and they stopped to sleep at a roadside motel.

Quinn heard Rachel get up in the middle of the night to go to

the bathroom. She stayed in there for half an hour, and Quinn
could hear faint sounds of muffled crying. Quinn dug her nails
into her thighs so hard that it left marks for days thereafter. It
gave her a deep sense of satisfaction whenever she looked at
them.

She thought that it was punishment well deserved.

***
Amarillo, TX

The next night they ended up staying at the same motel they
stayed at when they passed through last time. By sheer
coincidence, it was the same room that Rachel and Quinn had
before. Quinn stepped inside, took one look at the room (at
the bed) and announced that she was going for a walk.

"Want company?" Puck offered.

"No, thank you," Quinn said politely. She left the room quickly
and quietly; Rachel was thankful that she did.

"This place brings back memories," Puck said, looking a little

green. He hasn't been able to look at a steak the same way
since the night he spent here hugging the toilet bowl.

"What memories?" Finn asked. Puck let out a sheepish laugh,

and proceeded to tell him about the great 72-oz steak
challenge. When he was finished, Finn looked at him and
scoffed, "I could do that with no problem."

"Prove it."

"I'm not going to do it by myself."

"Why not? You do it by yourself all the time," Puck smirked.

The boys carried on bickering. Ignoring them, Rachel lay in

bed, listening to her iPod and staring up at the off-white
ceiling, thinking of a time not too long ago.

"Can't... ever?"

Quinn bit the bottom of her lip, her brows furrowed in puzzled
concentration.

"Can't... now," she said slowly. "I think."

***
Interstate 44

The sign read, Tulsa: 10 miles.

In the front passenger seat, Finn stiffened and heaved a heavy

sigh. Technically, he has never been to Tulsa, but the place
held bittersweet memories for him anyway.

Rachel leaned forward in her seat and touched her hand to his
shoulder. Without turning around, Finn patted her hand
reassuringly, as if saying, No, really, I'm okay.

Next to Rachel, Quinn exhaled forcefully through her nostrils, a

petty, jealous snort she couldn't repress. Rachel sat back in
her seat. Her eyes, wide as saucer and softly cutting, regarded
Quinn with intermingled guilt and blame and resentment and
affection. Quinn glanced at Rachel out of the corner of her
eyes before quickly turning away in shame. That one little
moment was more than enough though. She could already feel
her eyes moistening as the heavy burden of guilt weighed
down on her until it was literally difficult to breathe.

"Oh, god. Will you two cut that out?" Puck barked from the
driver's seat. "You guys are killing me here with that shit."

***

Rolla, MO

It was their last night out on the road. Tomorrow, they would
be back in Lima. Back to their lives. Back to normal, if you
could call it that.

Puck didn't think that it was possible for things to get any
more awkward, but he was wrong. He did his best to ignore
the situation by putting on his headphones and blasting Guns
n' Roses, but even Slash's shredding couldn't cut through the
stiflingly thick tension that hung in the air. Not even the
swimsuit models in the Sports Illustrated he was leafing
through could distract him from the obviously overwhelming
pressure. Finn, playing a game on his PSP, was not immune
either; he kept fidgeting in his seat and nervously looking up
at the girls every two minutes, like he was just waiting for the
dam to break.

Rachel was on the bed, leaning against the headboard and

reading a book. Quinn was sitting on the edge of the bed, far
from Rachel, watching TV. Every so often, Rachel looked up
from her book to cast a lingering gaze at the blonde. When
Quinn felt the focus upon her, she instinctively turned to look;
then Rachel would quickly avert her eyes and train her
attention back to the book that she wasn't reading anyway.
Then it would be Quinn's turn to stare with forlorn longing,
until Rachel buckled under the pressure of intensity and lifted
her eyes to Quinn. Their eyes would meet very briefly before
Quinn forced herself to turn away. They could go back and
forth like this all night.

Puck violently threw his magazine down on the floor.

"That's it!" he declared as he sprang to his feet. "I gotta get

out of here." Everyone was looking at him now.

"What's up?" Finn asked.

"You guys are-" Puck stopped himself. For once in his life, he
decided to employ some tact. It didn't seem like it would make
things less awkward by pointing out how awkward everything
was. "I'm hungry," he said instead. "I'm going to go grab a
burger. Finn, let's go."

"I'm not really hungry," Finn answered. "I mean, we just ate-"

"Dude," Puck interrupted. "Get off your ass. We're going."

Puck gave his best friend a hard, meaningful stare, quickly
glanced towards the girls, then back at Finn again. Finn finally
caught on. He nodded, getting up from his chair and grabbing
his jacket.

"Yeah, I could really go for a milkshake."

"We'll probably be a few hours. We'll call you guys before we
come back," Puck told the girls. "You know, just to see if you
guys want anything."

"I'd appreciate it," said Quinn quietly.

Finn paused by the door on his way out, glancing down at the
PSP he held in his hand.

"Wait, I'm low on batteries. I just need to charge it first-"

Puck seized the taller boy by his shoulder, yanked the door
open and roughly shoved him out. He gave the girls a short
wave, then tumbled out himself, closing the door behind him.
Then finally, Rachel and Quinn were alone. But neither knew
what to say or do. There was so much that needed to be say,
and much more that couldn't be said. Quinn inhaled shakily.

"We should talk," she said. "We can't go back to Lima like this.
We need to be able to get along, for the sake of glee - and our
friends."

Rachel could only nod numbly, the motion so slight that it was
almost imperceptible. Quinn stood, made her way to Rachel's
side of the bed and sat down next to her, close but not
intimately so.

"Okay," Quinn said. "Let's talk."

Rachel nodded again. She started to speak, but then she

looked into Quinn's eyes and then she could think of nothing
but lips and hands. When it had been just the two of them
traveling together, they touched incessantly; friendly during
the day and passionate during the night. The frequency and
urgency of their couplings would have put Viagara-ingesting
rabbits to shame. Then, once Puck and Finn showed up, there
was nothing, not even the slightest touch. The drought was
unbearable, but it wasn't as if Rachel had many opportunities
(or any, really) to address the issue - until now. Now she had
Quinn to herself again. As that realization hit her, so did a
warm wave of desire, spreading through the cells of her body,
slow and ever-expanding.

She quickly scooted forward, grabbed the back of Quinn's head

with both hands and pulled the blonde in for a searing kiss. For
Quinn, it was like a contact high. The instant that their lips
touched, an electrifying surge coursed through her, igniting
every inch of her skin with yearning heat. Her reaction came
so naturally that it was almost unconscious. She wrapped an
arm around Rachel's waist while the other hand reached up to
cup her face. As their tongues met, Quinn moaned into
Rachel's mouth; aroused, Rachel quickly moved on top,
straddling Quinn's hips while simultaneously pushing her down
against the mattress. Her hands pushed up Quinn's shirt,
eagerly exploring the flesh underneath. In the back of her
mind - the part yet to be completely overtaken by lust - Rachel
marveled at the fact how it was possible for her to have
missed this so badly when it had really only been a few days
since they've been like this.

"Wait," Quinn suddenly muttered. She put her hands against

Rachel's shoulders and gently pushed the smaller girl away,
albeit with pained reluctance. She was panting hard,
breathless from kissing. "Wait, we have to talk."

"I don't want to talk," Rachel answered petulantly.

Quinn stared. Then responded. Her hands, still resting on

Rachel's shoulders, tightened and gripped onto Rachel's shirt.
She forcefully pulled the girl back down, bringing their lips
together once more. They did need to have a conversation, but
Quinn figured that Rachel Berry not wanting to talk might be a
sign of the impending Apocalypse, and if the world was about
to end, she might as well die ecstatically with a Rachel Berry-
induced orgasm.

She kissed Rachel, fervently and desperately, knowing that

this will be the last time she gets to do so. Rachel had similar
ideas. She kissed Quinn hard, like she was trying to bruise the
girl. She dragged her nails sharply against Quinn's skin, like
she was trying to find her way underneath. In a sense, she
was. She wanted Quinn to always, always remember this.
As they kissed, Rachel gripped the edge of Quinn's shirt; she
momentarily broke away to yank it up and discard it. Quinn
eagerly returned the favor, and like this, the two of them
clumsily and impatiently peeled off each other's shirts and
skirts until they were clad in only their underwear. Rachel
slipped Quinn's brastrap off her shoulders, her hands moving
smoothly from Quinn's shoulder blades down along her torso
until they were cupping her breasts. Rachel massaged gently,
then kissed and sucked her way down Quinn's neck and body
until her mouth moved over soft swells, taking a hard nipple
against her tongue. Quinn threaded her fingers through
Rachel's hair, her hands cupping the sides of Rachel's face,
half-wanting to control the brunette's movements, half-
wanting to just let Rachel go wild. Needing to feel as much of
Rachel as possible, Quinn unclasped Rachel's bra, flinging the
article aside. She tugged Rachel back up for another kiss as
their bodies rubbed together, breasts against breasts, hips
against hips.

Craving more, Rachel's hand roamed south, finding its way to

damp panties. Her fingers kneaded against that dampness,
finding and feeling that stiff nub through the wet cloth. Quinn
emitted a groan against Rachel's mouth that was by now all
too familiar to her ears. It was the kind of rewarding plea that
made Rachel lose any and all semblance of self-control. She
quickly took a hold of the waistband and pulled off Quinn's
panties. She touched her fingers to the clit, rubbing vigorously
as the blonde girl beneath her wormed in pleasurable agony.
Rachel pulled back to look at Quinn, who had her eyes closed
tight.

"Look at me," Rachel commanded. Quinn did.

Rachel's eyes were intensely affixed to Quinn's as she pushed

her fingers deep inside slick wetness. She picked up on a
steady, heavy rhythm; she probed deeply, and with each
stroke she struck that sweet spot that made Quinn wince and
writhe in a really good way.

"Tell me," Rachel's voice trembled as she spoke. "Tell me that

you won't miss this. Tell me that you can go the rest of your
life without feeling this again." But Quinn could only whimper.
Rachel pulled her fingers out, then thrust them in again. Quinn
inhaled sharply at the sensation.

"Tell me," Rachel demanded. "Tell me that you don't want me.
Tell me that you don't need me." Quinn's eyes welled with
tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a strangled
cry escaped.

"You can't do it, can you?" Rachel twisted her fingers against
Quinn's inner walls. "You can't do it because you love me. You
love me." Quinn shook her head fervently. "And I love you."

And to show her how much, Rachel pulled her fingers out and
scrambled down, quickly seeking out Quinn's center with her
mouth. She dove in hungrily. Her tongue swirled and her lips
sucked with even more enthusiasm than usual. She needed
Quinn to feel this. She needed Quinn to understand what she
was giving up. She needed to make this one count.

As her tongue unabashedly worked against Quinn's heat,

Rachel reached up and sought out Quinn's hand. Their fingers
intertwined together, Quinn held on tightly as her body started
to quiver, then buckle, until she came with a piercing cry. As
she settled, Rachel crawled back up, capturing Quinn's mouth
in her own, heated and ardent. Not one to be selfish in
moments like these, Quinn pushed her down past the elastics
of Rachel's waistbands, her fingers burying into Rachel's core.
Rachel moaned and rocked her hips against Quinn's hand. It
didn't take long before pleasure seized her body, and she
shook violently as the sensuous waves mercilessly wrecked her
again and again.

When the last rippled ebbed, Rachel collapsed as a heap,

helplessly curled against her lover. Quinn's arms enveloped
her, and the two of them held each other as the sweat on their
skin cooled and their hearts slowed. It might have been
minutes, it might have hours, but however long it was, it was
still too short. When Quinn started to stir, Rachel clung on
even tighter.

"No. Please," she begged humbly, without pride or pretenses.

"Stay with me. Please don't go. Just stay. Please just stay."
But this time, Quinn said, in a faint voice twisted and torn with
misery,

"I'm sorry. I can't. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

---

Lima, OH

Her fathers were sitting in the living room when she got home,
having their bedtime snack of milk and cookies. They looked
up as she entered, watching as she dropped her bags in the
foyer, then wearily stumbled over to the couch, and into her
Dad's arms.

"Welcome home, Bubbala," her Dad said.

That was all it took for her to become unraveled. She broke
down; her small frame rattled with irrepressible sobs. Her
Daddy quickly got up from his seat and went to her side,
wrapping his arms around her. Rachel wept openly and
riotously, unleashing all of her frustrations and pains in the
arms of two loving parents. Her Dad stroked her hair while her
Daddy rubbed her back; they said nothing, they just allowed
their daughter to grieve. When Rachel finally settled down, her
Daddy brought her a glass of warm milk and a plate of
chocolate chip cookies. Rachel sank into the couch, physically
and emotionally exhausted, resting her head against her Dad's
shoulder.

"I feel better," said Rachel weakly.

"Good," her Daddy replied gently. "You'll be okay."

"I'm sorry, kiddo." Her Dad planted a soft kiss on his

daughter's forehead as he held her close. Then after a beat, he
added, "But you know that you're still grounded, right?"

Rachel nodded. "Yeah," she sighed. "I know."

***

The house was dark and silent when Quinn got home.

She wanted to get to bed without waking her parents up, but
when she attempted to tiptoe up the stairs, the door to her
parents' bedroom creaked open. Russell Fabray stood in its
entrance in his bathrob, hair disheveled and clutching a
baseball bat in his hands. When he saw Quinn, the hostile
gleam disappeared from his eyes, and it was replaced by
something more like indifference.

"Oh," he said flatly. "It's you."

"It's me," Quinn said with a sheepish shrug.

"You woke me up. I thought you were a burglar."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Don't get smart with me," Russell said sharply. "It's late. Get
to bed."

With that, he went back into his room, closing the door behind
him. He hadn't even bothered to ask her where she'd been.
She could pretend like that didn't hurt her, but the truth was
that he was her father and she would never stop being hurt by
his callousness. Through the closed door, she could hear her
mother's voice and her father's reply:

"What is it, Russell?"

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

As Quinn slinked back to her room, she realized that was

exactly what she was in this house: nothing.

***
Their junior year began two days later.

Rachel and Quinn didn't talk to each other, not even during
glee practice. They shared an unspoken understanding where
they both agreed that it would be easier for them to ignore
one another - or at least pretend to, because the truth is that
neither girl could stop glancing at the other out of the corner
of her eyes.

It hurt Rachel the most when she saw that blank, vaguely
forlorn expression on Quinn's face. It was the same she had
worn during the summer, camped out in front of the Berrys'
television watching The Twilight Zone.

It was like nothing had changed for Quinn at all. And this time,
Rachel was all out of moves.

***

Now that they were out in the open, Brittany and Santana
decided to tackle what they dubbed the "Coach Sylvester
Problem" head-on. They arranged to meet her together in her
office on the first day of school before Cheerios practice. They
weren't sure what to expect, or what would happen when
Coach Sylvester found out that two of her cheerleaders were
involved. They had the faint idea that it wouldn't be anything
good. Brittany loved cheerleading, Santana loved the social
status that cheerleading gave her, and the idea of being forced
to quit the Cheerios was abhorrent to both. But they agreed
that the idea of giving up one another was worse.

They sat in Coach Sylvester's office and Brittany let Santana

do all the talking. When Santana was done, Coach Sylvester
peered at both of them coolly over the rim of her glasses. She
stared at them for a good, long time.

"You know, coaching an internationally renowned cheerleading

squad takes its toll. I make it look easy, but it's actually high-
pressured, extraordinarily demanding and very stressful, so I
do what I can to relax. Some people exercise, others read a
book. Me, I prefer something lighthearted and fun; that's why
I so treasure my afternoon sessions of Krav Maga with
members of the Ohio State Patrol. Nothing unwinds me like
crushing the windpipe of a 250-pound bear of a man and
making him call me mama. So what you're telling me is that
you had me cancel my Krav Maga today so that the two of you
could inform me that you're going steady, is that it?"

"I'm confused," Brittany squeaked. "Are you mad at us or

not?"

Coach Sylvester slowly removed her glasses, tapping its frame

impatiently against her desk.

"Tell me, ladies, do you plan on distracting my performers and

taking away precious training time by using Cheerios practice
as recruitment grounds for your cult of sexual deviance?"

"No!" Santana protested. "Coach, we're in love-"

Coach Sylvester raised a hand to silence her.

"Will your newfound Sapphic love impede your abilities to

execute a flawless pike jump?"

"No," they replied in unison.

"Do you have any designs to cut your hairs, stop bathing and
dress yourselves in oversized cardigans until you both
resemble the sexless, androgynous, unholy lovechild of William
Schuester and Justin Bieber?"

"Um..." The girls exchanged confused looks. "No?"

"Then I fail to see why or how I should care about any of this.
Congratulations, this meeting has proven to be a bigger waste
of time than the time I saw Scott Baio at the Lima mall and
flirted with him for an hour before I realized that he was just
some lawyer from Orange County shilling his law blog."

"Who's Scott Baio?" Brittany whispered to her girlfriend.

"I think he's that senator who used to pose for Playgirl or
something," Santana whispered back.

"Silence! I'm not done systematically destroying your fragile

teenage egos," Coach Sylvester snapped. "For orchestrating
such an egregious waste of my time, the two of you are going
to give me fifteen laps around the football field right now. Now
get out of my office."

Santana took Brittany's hand, giving it a soft squeeze, silently

urging the blonde girl to hurry. The two of them quickly made
their escape, still frightened of their Coach but a little relieved
that they were still on the team. Coach Sylvester watched
them leave, then put her glasses back on and turned her
attention to the paperwork before her.

"Sneaky gays," she muttered to herself.

***

It's been two weeks since school started. It was a Monday

afternoon, glee practice had just ended and the hallways were
empty. Quinn was at her locker when she felt Finn's looming
presence.

"You owe me," Finn said, and Quinn sighed with light
exasperation.

She liked Finn - really, she did. When all was said and done,
even if their romantic ventures were no more, she wanted to
keep him as a friend. But the boy was so hopeless sometimes;
his naivete sorely tested Quinn's patience and she was already
worn out to begin with by everything else.

"What?" she asked with as much congeniality as she could

muster.

"You owe me," Finn repeated. "By my count, you've taken a

baby, a best friend and two girlfriends from me - one of them
being you, of course, but I'm counting it. So the way I see it,
you owe me. Big time." Her exasperation only deepened,
although guilt was now rapidly gaining ground as the dominant
emotion. She already knew all this; they both did. Why was he
bringing this up now?

"I know that."

"So I need you to do something for me."

Quinn was starting to get a headache. But Finn was right

(damn him!): she did owe him.

"Fine. What is it?"

"Come with me."

He turned and started to walk away without waiting to see if

Quinn would follow. He led her down the deserted corridors,
past endless empty classrooms. It was quiet in the school, and
the dead calm was a little unnerving. Quinn began to grow
anxious, because while she's pretty sure that Finn would never
ask her to do anything ridiculous, it was unlike him to be so
secretive about anything.

Finn stopped in front of the doorway to a familiar office.

"No," Quinn immediately said.

"Yes," Finn said firmly. "She's waiting for you."

"I won't do it."

"Yes, you will." To save them both a lot of time, Finn opened
the door, and pushed her through.

"Hello, Quinn," Emma Pilllsbury greeted in a meekly cheerful

voice. "Please, come in." But Quinn refused to move further
into the room.

"Quinn, you need to get your crap together," Finn told her. "I'm
sick of watching you mope. You need to talk to someone."
"You can't make me," answered Quinn stubbornly.

"You owe me. And this is what I want."

But Quinn's guilt only took her so far, and she now faced Finn
with a defiant, determined look.

"No."

Finn took a step closer, lowering his voice so that Ms. Pillsbury
couldn't hear him.

"If you don't do this, I will tell the whole school what you did
with Rachel on your summer vacation."

Quinn blanched. "You wouldn't."

"Watch me." His voice was cold and his eyes were devoid of
sympathy. Quinn had never seen him like that before. She had
no way of knowing that Finn actually felt like he was about to
pee his pants. He would never cross Quinn like that. For one,
he wasn't that cruel. For two, he would like to live out the rest
of his natural life with his genitals firmly attached to his body,
thank you very much. But that was the whole point of bluffing.

Quinn chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated her options.

"And after this, we'd be even?"

"We'd be even," Finn confirmed.

Reluctantly, Quinn took a seat. Finn nodded at Ms. Pillsbury,

then left the room, closing the door behind him. He heaved a
huge sigh of relief. Walking down the hall, he pulled out his
cellphone and called Rachel.

"You were right!" he proclaimed happily. "I survived."

***
Mr. Schue clapped his hands together to get the attention of
the rambuctious teenagers he coached. It actually took several
thunderous claps before he managed that feat.

"It's time for ballad selections again," Mr. Schue announced.

"And I have the perfect song in mind. Rachel? Will you come
up here?"

"Rachel gets the solo. What a shocker," Kurt mumbled

underneath his breath. Displeased but not wanting to be
overtly rude, he finished sending off a text to Simon then put
his phone away to pay attention to Rachel's performance.

Rachel's feet dragged a little as she brought herself to the

center of the room. It was hard not to notice the way she'd
been carrying herself lately; her smile was less bright, her
speeches less verbose. Although the latter proved to be a
welcome change for the glee kids, they also found it
disconcerting - but not enough to do anything about it.

The fact was that Rachel's frenetic enthusiasm was incredibly

irritating most of the time and a dispirited, lethargic Rachel
Berry made all of their lives easier. So they chose not to
intervene. For each of them, it was almost an unconscious
decision, because none of them were insensitive enough to
turn away from a friend in need. They were good people, yet
selfish and self-absorbed like many teenagers (and adults)
tended to be; so as long as no one said anything and their
consciences weren't explicitly confronted with the truth, it was
just easier to ignore the shift in Rachel's attitude. Besides,
while they might have felt bad for her, it wasn't as if any of
them knew what to do in this strange situation.

Mr. Schue handed her the sheet music to the song, but Rachel
didn't need it. The perpetually-on-loan band kids began to
play. Rachel waited for her cue, and then began,

"There is freedom within, there is freedom without, try to

catch the deluge in a paper cup. There's a battle ahead, many
battles are lost."

As the words poured out, Rachel's thoughts were only one

thing - one girl. The same who had constantly plagued her
thoughts day and night. And now she couldn't help her
flickering eyes from landing upon the object of her desire. For
once, Quinn was looking back at her. So Rachel sang to her,
the words full of meaning,

"But you'll never see the end of the road while you're traveling
with me."

Quinn slid down in her seat and looked away as Rachel's voice
rose at the chorus.

"Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over. Hey now, hey now,
when the world comes in. They come, they come to build a
wall between us. We know they won't win."

Her voice suddenly cracked on the last note, overtaken by a

sharp sob. The band stopped playing as they witnessed Rachel
Berry stop singing and burst into tears in the middle of a
number. This was an unheard-of phenomenon. They all
watched in stunned silence as Rachel cried softly in the middle
of the room. Quinn stared at the floor, trying to burn a hole
through it, perfectly aware that all the glee kids were watching
her as much as they were watching Rachel.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said hoarsely, wiping at her eyes.

"Rachel?" Mr. Schue's brows were crinkled in concern. "Is

everything okay?"

"Yes, everything's fine. I just- I just really love Crowded

House, okay?" Turning on her feet, Rachel fled the room. Mr.
Schue looked absolutely bewildered, and looked to the
remaining students for a clue.

"What's going on with Rachel?"

Everyone looked away, throwing out mutters of "Umm", "I

don't know", "No idea", and from Puck, "I think she's on the
rag."

"Is that right?" he asked skeptically. No one would meet his

gaze. It felt as if an infected gash had been exposed, raw and
rotten; each of them felt the shame of complicit guilt.

"I have to say that I'm really disappointed, guys," Mr. Schue
lectured. "I thought that we were coming together as a team.
Now, your teammate is obviously in a lot of pain, and you're
all okay with sitting idly by? I know that you guys don't always
get along, and I don't expect you to, but I really thought that
you would have rallied together when it counted."

Nobody looked at him. Nobody spoke. Quinn was desperately

trying not to blink, afraid that if she did, the tears pooling in
her eyes would come trailing down. Mr. Schue, for all of his
well-meaning impassioned speeches, failed to notice this.

"I guess I was wrong," Mr. Schue said quietly.

Seeing that he had very little alternatives, Mr. Schue left the
room to go look for Rachel. He found her in the empty
cafeteria. She had stopped crying, although she was sniffling
as she attempted to drown her sorrows with a packet of Oreos.
He sat down beside her, and not wanting to push her too hard,
waited for her to acknowledge his presence. She did so by
offering him a cookie, which he took.

"Thank you," he said. She nodded. "Do you want to talk about
it?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Rachel whispered.

"Rachel, no one loves Crowded House that much," Mr. Schue

said. "Why don't you tell me what the problem is?"

She shook her head, but she had hesitated just long enough
for Mr. Schue to feel confident enough to pursue the matter.

"I know that you and I have had our differences in the past,
but I'm your teacher and I care about you," Mr. Schue began
delicately. "Whatever's on your mind, you can tell me, and
we'll figure it out together."

Rachel's bottom lip was beginning to quiver. Mr. Schue knew

that whatever was troubling Rachel had to be bad, and it hurt
him to see one of his students in so much pain. He rested his
hand upon Rachel's shoulder.

"Rachel, it's okay."

His gentle demeanor worked. Rachel was in sore need of

sympathy these days. Unable to contain herself, she started
crying again. Mr. Schue patted her awkwardly, patiently
waiting for her to regain control.

"I'm in love with Quinn," she finally managed to get out. Mr.
Schue's mind struggled to comprehend this, but the words
simply weren't making sense. Rachel might as well have said
something like, "Hark! Feckless cats' pajamas scintillate
scorpions."

"And Quinn would be... the new Irish exchange student that I
haven't heard about yet?" he ventured hopefully.

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel added demurely.

"Ahh," Mr. Schue said slowly. He thought for sure that this was
an elaborate prank, but he was pretty sure that Rachel
wasn'tthat good of an actress. "Okay. Well. Does she know
that?"

Rachel nodded.

"And... ah... do you know if she love you back?"

"I don't know," Rachel said miserably. "Although I think she

must. Some of the things we did in bed - well, I know that I'm
inexperienced, but I've read enough articles to know that most
people wouldn't let just anyone do those things. So she must
have loved me a least a little to let me do that stuff to her,
right?"

Mr. Schue suddenly wanted to douse his brain in bleach.

"Umm," Mr. Schue said numbly because... well, how do you

respond to something like that? "Rachel, I know that you were
raised in a very open household, but there are some things
that just never needs to be shared out loud. Or ever."

"Sorry," Rachel mumbled, only vaguely embarrassed.

"But I also know that you weren't raised to be a quitter," said

Mr. Schue mildly. "What's the song that really brought glee
club together?"

"Um... Push It?"

Mr. Schue sighed.

"Don't Stop Believin', Rachel," he said. "Remember that."

***

Ms. Pillsbury tirelessly labored to set up appointments with

therapists for Quinn. Quinn lasted three sessions with the first
one.

"He's a man who never had kids," Quinn complained. "How is

he supposed to understand anything that I'm going through?"

"We can find you a woman therapist if you'd be more

comfortable," Ms. Pillsbury offered.

The next one lasted two sessions.

"She reminds me of my grandma," Quinn said. "I can't discuss

these things with someone who reminds me of my grandma."

The third one lasted one session.

"She doesn't know who Diana Ross is. I can't take her
seriously."

The fourth one lasted fifteen minutes.

"Her office smelled like cats."

Ms. Pillsbury sighed. "Quinn, I'm afraid that we have limited
options here."

"If I have to talk to anyone," Quinn started shyly. "Can't I just

talk to you?"

Ms. Pillsbury blinked.

"Of course you can!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know that was
something you wanted." She felt touched that Quinn trusted
her enough to want to confide in her. She felt triumphant. High
school guidance counselors can make a difference!

"Well, I wouldn't have to drive all over town after school,"

Quinn shrugged. "And at least I know that your office is
clean."

***

In some ways, life was easier for Rachel now.

Mr. Schue's words had struck a chord with the glee kids. They
rallied together to help Rachel in whatever ways they could.

Kurt and Mercedes refrained from making snide remarks, even

when Rachel was being extra bossy and annoying.

Artie and Tina made it a point to sit with her during lunch.

Matt and Mike cornered Jacob and threatened him with

physical harm if he didn't stop following Rachel around, trying
to look up her skirt.

Santana and Brittany told the Cheerios to stop hassling her -

for the most part.

Finn and Puck ambushed Karofsky together, locked him in the

janitor's closet and refused to let him out until he agreed to a
slushie ceasefire. It didn't work, and the next day both boys
got hefty doses of slushie attacks throughout the day, but it
was a valiant effort nonetheless.

Everyone praised her effusively during glee practice.

Life was easier for Rachel now, but every time she looked in
Quinn's direction and she felt that awful tug of longing, she
couldn't help but think that nothing was easy at all.

***

"Life isn't easy. Believe me, Quinn, it doesn't get easier once
you're at my age. People will tell you that things get easier
after high school and in some ways that's true, but in a lot of
ways it's not. There will always be people who want to judge
you. There are always expectations that you just can't live up
to."

"So you're saying that things will always be this bad?"

"Absolutely not," Ms. Pillsbury said firmly. "I'm saying that you
have to recognize the difference between when it's time to
hunker down and hope for the best, and when it's time to
stand up and do something, because things won't always
magically work out for the best. Life is hard, so you just have
to find a way to make things easier for yourself."

Quinn carefully contemplated those words.

"So what do I do?"

"Whatever you can."

That afternoon, when Quinn got home, she tore into her closet
and packed two large suitcases. She picked up her phone and
scrolled to a familiar number.

"Hi," she said nervously. "Can I stay with you for a little
while?"
***

It was quite a shock for Rachel to walk into school on Monday

morning and see Quinn standing at her locker, hair pulled back
in a harsh ponytail, clad in the red-and-white of her old
Cheerios uniform. For a moment, she thought for sure that
Quinn was wearing an early Halloween costume. Temporarily
forgetting their unspoken agreement to stay away from each
other, she made a beeline for the ex-ex-Cheerio.

"What is that?" she asked bluntly. Quinn slowly closed her

locker, then leaned against it. She regarded Rachel with a
maddeningly blank calmness.

"What does it look like?"

"You're back on the squad?"

"It's something to do," Quinn said with a casual shrug. "But

I'm not quitting glee. I can do both."

"But why would you?"

"Brittany and Santana are on the squad too. I don't see you
interrogating them about it."

"That's different. You know it is."

Rachel never had the same antagonistic relationship with

Brittany and Santana as she did with Cheerios Quinn. Anyway,
Santana was consistently unpleasant in or out of uniform, and
Brittany tended to follow suit unless Santana wasn't around,
so Rachel always knew what to expect from those two, but she
couldn't say the same for Quinn. Also, she'd never lost her
virginity to either of them, so that was different too.

Seeing Quinn in uniform reminded Rachel of how things used

to be between them. Although it wasn't that long ago that
Quinn was a Cheerio who humiliated and terrorized Rachel at
every opportunity, it was still difficult for Rachel to reconcile
this image before her with the soft, vulnerable Quinn she had
gotten to know and love, the one who wore her hair down and
who laughed at Rachel's jokes when everyone else found them
lame. The idea of having Quinn revert back to an enemy was
intolerable. Quinn could guess what she was thinking.

"Things won't be like they were before. I'm with them, but I'm
not with them. Glee's your ticket out of this town. This is
mine."

"Oh," Rachel replied, mildly comforted. An awkward beat

passed. "I, um... I hear that you're staying with Brittany."

"I hear that you're going to Homecoming with Finn," Quinn

returned.

"As friends, yes."

"Well, then." Quinn forced a smile. "I guess that things are
working out for the both of us."

***

Quinn spent Thanksgiving with Brittany's family. She called her

parents out of a sense of obligation, but the conversation was
short and awkward, and afterward Quinn regretted calling at
all.

Santana came over later, and the three of them watched Willy
Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. It was a Thanksgiving ritual
for Brittany and Santana even though Brittany found the
Oompa-Loompas terrifying. The two of them knew the movie
line-for-line and knew exactly when to make their quips and
inside jokes. At times, Quinn felt like she was intruding and
frankly, so did Santana. When Brittany left the room for more
popcorn, Santana took the opportunity to gently drop a hint.

"You're being a real cockblock right now," she groused. "Brit

and I should be making out already." Had this come from
anyone else but Santana, Quinn might have felt abashed
instead of completely unperturbed.

"Geez, Lopez," Quinn scoffed. "Can't you keep it in your pants

for more than two hours?"

"You're kidding me, right? Have you seen my superhot

girlfriend?" Santana contemplated her own question, then
added, "On second thought, no. I don't want you getting any
ideas."

"Don't worry," Quinn snorted. "Brit's sweet, but she's not my

type."

Vaguely offended by Quinn's lack of enthusiasm for someone

Santana considered to be the hottest thing since the creation
of the sun, she said icily,

"That's right. I forgot that your taste trends toward circus

freaks."

"Leave her alone," Quinn snapped impulsively without realizing

that she had walked right into the trap. Santana smirked.

"Leave who alone?" asked Santana innocently. "I was talking

about Finn and Puck. Who are you talking about?"

Quinn flushed deeply. "Forget it."

"You know that you're being a complete idiot, right?"

"Drop it, Santana."

"No. You're being really annoying about this. It's because of

you two that we had to put up that 'There's No Crying In Glee
Club' sign."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell I don't. Brittany and I already did the hard part for
you. We came out to everyone, we told Coach Sylvester, and
we still rule the school because we're awesome. If we survive,
so will you. And since you're not even living with your parents
anymore, I don't know what your problem is. There's nothing
scary about this."

"She went to Homecoming with Finn," Quinn muttered

mournfully. She had refused to go, even though she was asked
by Puck and then a sophomore basketball player. She would've
spent the entire time glaring at Rachel and Finn anyway.

"They went as friends. Yeah, I know, I was shocked too - like,

who would really want to be friends with that freakshow? But
there you have it," Santana sneered, with more mocking than
menace. "You'd have to be a special kind of stupid not to see
that she's still hung up on you."

Quinn didn't know how to respond to that. It wasn't as if she

couldn't see how much Rachel was suffering, it was more like
she couldn't bring herself to believe it. She had expected
Rachel to move on by now. Chia Pet Finn was right there for
the taking.

"What do you care anyway?"

"I don't." Santana shrugged carelessly. "I just like pointing out
what an idiot you are."

Brittany chose that moment to come back into the room with
freshly made popcorn, and the subject was dropped. Quinn sat
through fifteen more minutes of the movie before she excused
herself, partly to give Santana and Brittany a little alone time.
She put on her jacket and ducked out onto the back porch with
her phone. Rachel picked up on the third ring.

"Quinn," came her breathless, uncertain voice over the line.

"Is everything okay?" It stung Quinn a little that she couldn't
just call up Rachel without the other girl thinking that there
was something wrong. Even when paralyzed with fear at the
thought of pursuing a romantic relationship, Quinn had never
wanted their friendship to degrade so far. At that moment, she
realized how much she missed her. More than the kissing or
the cuddling or the sex, she missed Rachel, period.

"I, um, just wanted to call and wish you a Happy

Thanksgiving."

Their conversation was short but not awkward, and afterward

Quinn didn't regret calling at all. She felt like this was the right
thing to do. At the very least, maybe this could be right step in
getting their friendship back on track. She thought that maybe
Rachel felt the same way.

Rachel didn't.

For Rachel, Quinn's one gentle, subtle act felt like a

portentous, pivotal moment. This short conversation was an
ember on the pile of dried-out kindling she had forced her
feelings to become. It ignited everything she had strove to
suppress, and she lay awake that night, burning with need and
want and longing. She lay awake, thinking of Quinn's hands
and hair and hips. She lay awake, thinking how there was no
way she could carry on the way she had before.

She lay awake, hatching her brilliant plan to win Quinn Fabray.

***

"Rachel, Mercedes, Tina, Artie, Finn and Mike. Please make

your way to the left side of the room," Mr. Schue announced.
"Everyone else, on the right side."

"What's going on?" Kurt asked.

"Principal Figgins has asked us to perform a couple of songs at

the McKinley winter show. Two songs, two competing groups.
To make things a little bit more interesting, we're going to
have the audience vote on the performances after the show,
and we'll perform the winning song at sectionals this year. It's
about time you kids learned a little something about
independence and competitive spirit - without the use of
pharmaceuticals this time, please."

Convincing Mr. Schue to split glee club into two groups had
been easy, relatively speaking. Rachel had cornered him after
glee practice and stated her case. Mr. Schue eyed the "There's
No Crying In Glee Club" sign, and assented because he was
afraid that Rachel would defy the sign if he refused. She also
managed to convince him to let her hand-pick her group. She
had a careful strategy in her selection. Puck, Brittany and
Santana were out because they might tell Quinn what was
going on. She left out Kurt in favor of Mike because Mercedes
would be more pliable without an automatic ally. Tina and Artie
wouldn't give her any trouble. Finn was a tough choice. It
wasn't fair to ask him to do this, but in the end, she needed
his voice and besides, she trusted his opinion. For the most
part.

"You're joking, right?" Finn gawked at her. So did everyone

else. The two groups had separated to discuss their
performance; Quinn's group headed to the auditorium while
Rachel's remained in the music room. It was then that Rachel
made her proposal.

"No, I am not."

"You want to get up in front of the whole school and sing a

love song to Quinn Fabray," Mercedes stated incredulously.
"Good Christian Cheerio, ice princess Barbie-doll Quinn
Fabray."

"Rachel, you know that I'm a fan of musical romantic

declarations," Artie said as he gave Tina's hand a soft squeeze.
"But this is suicide."

"I think it's cute," said Tina with a shy smile.

"It would be if it wasn't Quinn," Artie said. "Outing Quinn in

front of the whole school will be the last thing any of us do
before we end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. You
know that she'll make sure that our bodies are never found."

"It won't be like that," Rachel replied. "We're making a political

statement by singing love songs to same sex glee members.
Gay rights is very topical. Mercedes and Tina will sing to
Brittany and Santana; Mike, Finn and Artie will sing to the
boys, and I get Quinn. We'll be the only ones who know what's
really going on."

"I have to sing to a dude?" Finn winced. "In front of the whole
school?"

"I wouldn't ask if I had another option." There was subtle

desperation in her tone.

Rachel knew that Quinn had a soft spot for emotional musical
numbers. The stakes were decidedly higher than when they
sang "Keep Holding On" or "Lean On Me", but Rachel didn't
know what else to do. Plus, she had a flare for making
dramatic statements anyway.

"We can vote on this," Rachel added. "Since there are six of us
and it's my proposal, I will abstain."

Mercedes went first. "Y'all know that I'm not against making a
scene. But this is all kinds of crazy. I have to say no."

"I don't see the harm," Tina countered. "I say yes."

"Sorry, Rachel," Artie opposed. "But Quinn kind of scares me. I

vote no."

"Whatever," Mike said easily. "I'm down."

All eyes fell upon Finn, the deciding vote. He squirmed

uncomfortably in his seat. It sucked being asked to do this.

"Finn," Rachel pleaded.

"I want to tell you that I think this is going to end badly for
you. Again," Finn finally said. "But I have a feeling that you
won't listen to me anyway."

"I love her," Rachel said quietly. This was the first time that
any of them had heard this admission. They didn't know
whether to feel touched or uncomfortable.

"Yeah," Finn sighed. "I know."

The room was quiet as Finn mulled it over. It really sucked
being asked to do this.

"Fuck it," he finally said. "Let's go for it."

***

They argued over song choices for three days. They might
have agreed to help Rachel, but they also wanted their shot at
winning. Also, as much as Rachel loved Quinn and wanted to
get her back, there was still the matter of her elephantine ego
and her delusional sense of grandeur. It took them forty-five
minutes to explain to her why her version of "Just Like
Heaven" would not make Quinn swoon.

"I'm sure your song is great," Tina explained patiently. "But I

don't think Quinn will be happy with something that Artie
already sang to me."

"But it's so good! It's so much better than Artie's crappy

version!" Rachel's eyes darted to the boy in the wheelchair not
three feet away. "No offense, Artie."

"Gee, why would I be offended by that?" Artie responded

sardonically.

"Fine. How about 'Wind Beneath My Wings'?" Everyone

groaned. Rachel was outraged. "What's wrong with 'Wind
Beneath My Wings'?!"

"Rachel, we'll help you, but you need to let us have a say,"
Finn said. "It's not all about you. We need to have a crowd-
pleaser that's going to win this competition."

"Who cares about a stupid competition?!" Rachel snapped.

They all stared in shock. Mercedes leaned toward Tina and

whispered,

"Did she just say what I think she said?"

"I think there must have been a toxic gas leak," Tina said,
slightly dazed. "We're all hallucinating. It's the only logical
explanation."

"Think of it like this," Finn said to Rachel. "Do you really want
to lose a singing contest to Puck?" Rachel considered this.

"Very well," she stated calmly. "But whatever song we pick, it

better be romantic."

***

They settled on Oasis' "Wonderwall". Then the real nightmare

began. Rachel was an utterly relentless slave-driver, obsessed
with making every note of the song and every step of the
choreography perfect. She called Finn early in the mornings to
remind him to do his vocal warm-ups. She called Mike late in
the night to go over the dance routine. She demanded
rehearsals before school, after school and even during lunch.
Some of them took to eating their lunch in bathrooms and
closets just to have a moment's peace.

"What the hell is wrong with this girl?" Mercedes complained

as she munched on a pizza bagel in a janitor's closet. She was
crammed in there with three other people.

"You sort of have to admire her tenacity," Tina said. She

started to unwrap her tuna sandwich, but then caught a glance
of the blackened mop next to her and suddenly lost her
appetite.

"She's like the Little Engine That Could," Artie agreed. "Only
that in this version, the Little Engine is probably going to crash
into the side of a mountain and kill everyone on board in a
fiery explosion."

"Look on the bright side," Mike said through a mouthful of

apple. "At least our deaths will be quick, and we wouldn't have
to take the SATs."
***

"They're doing 'Baba O'Riley' by The Who," Mike reported to

his teammates after they had asked him to do a little
snooping. "Puck's taking lead."

"How did you find out?" Finn asked.

"Well, I followed Kurt home after school. I sat parked outside

his house for three hours until he left, then I shimmied up the
rain gutters, dropped in from the skylight with my awesome
Asian ninja skills, and went through every single of paper in
that house until I found the sheet music."

"Really?" Rachel's eyes were wide with admiration.

"No," Mike shrugged. "I just asked Matt."

***

Puck had a nice voice, but after two hours of listening to him
imitate Roger Daltrey, Quinn wanted to claw his eyes out every
time he opened his mouth. She wasn't alone in her
sentiments, so they finally called it a day. Santana and
Brittany were going to the movies; they extended an invitation
but Quinn could tell by the look in Santana's eyes that she
should decline. They offered her a ride, but Quinn turned that
down too. It was a snowy December day in Lima and Quinn
found great comfort in strolling through the slowly drifting
flakes. Everything was beautifully blanketed in white; she
derived a great sense of satisfaction from feeling the crunch of
powdery snow beneath her boots. With everyone off the
streets, sometimes it felt like she was the last person on earth.

As she walked down the street leading away from the school,
she spotted a familiar chaired figure on the sidewalk,
struggling futilely in the snow.
"Artie?" she called out as she approached. "What are you
doing?"

Artie looked up at Quinn through his snow-spotted glasses,

and he ceased to struggle. He seemed mortified.

"I, um, I think I'm stuck." He nodded down at one of his

wheels caught and rendered immobile by the accumulation.
Quinn knelt down and brushed at the snow until he could
move the wheelchair. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I was trying to get to the convenience store on the corner."

Artie spoke as if he had marbles in his mouth, thick and
indistinct. He was so embarrassed that he couldn't quite meet
Quinn's eyes.

"In the snow?" Quinn asked skeptically.

"We only have a week left before the winter show, so Rachel's
making everyone stay late for rehearsal. Tina said that she
had a craving for sour gummy worms. Mike volunteered to run
out for some..."

"And you wanted to go instead."

"She's my girlfriend."

"And they let you?"

"Just because I'm in a wheelchair doesn't mean that I can't do

things!" Artie retorted defensively. When Quinn crinkled her
brows, he softened. "But, I mean, no. I told them that I had to
call my mom. I thought that I'd be able to go and get back
before the snow started sticking."

Quinn took a hold of the wheelchair's handles and began

pushing him.

"What are we doing?" asked Artie.

"What does it look like? We're getting your girlfriend some
sour gummy worms," Quinn replied. They went along in
silence for a few feet. "You know that Tina doesn't care
whether you can make snack runs for her, right?"

"I know," Artie mumbled. "But I do."

"It's not a competition."

"That's easy for you to say. You have legs."

"Don't say that. A lot of guys can walk, Artie, but you're twice
the man they are."

"That's easy for you to say too. You're more about the berries
than the nuts these days, aren't you?"

The words came out before he could stop himself. There was a
harsh jolt as Quinn came to a stop. Artie held his breath, half-
expecting her to tip him over. Instead, after a moment's
silence, she resumed pushing the wheelchair, going at a slow,
even pace.

"How is she?"

"Crazy," Artie said. "Cazier than usual."

"Yeah," Quinn breathed softly. "She gets so worked up about

these competitions."

"She has a lot at stake," Artie replied, even though he knew

that Quinn wouldn't understand exactly what he meant. Not
yet, anyway.

Neither said anything more on the way to the store. Quinn

stayed with him while he made his purchase, then wheeled
him back to the school. She took him up the handicap ramp,
and said goodbye to him at the door. Quinn started to leave,
but stopped when she heard Artie call her name.

"You once told me that you knew what it was like to throw
away something you love," Artie said. "I never thought that
you'd be stupid enough to do it twice."

***

On the night of the show, Rachel's teammates were basked in

confidence. It wasn't as if they didn't notice that their team
had most of the vocal powerhouses. Kurt, Puck and Quinn had
nice voices, but they weren't in the same range as Rachel or
Artie. The dance routine might be a little awkward, but they
were hoping that Mike's gravity-defying moves would balance
out Finn's bumbling mess. They were all pretty damn sure that
they weren't going to lose to a bunch of cheerleaders and
jocks, so they were all rather relaxed before the show.

All of them except one, of course.

"Rachel, stop circling me!" Mike yelled. "I feel like a snack for
Jaws."

They were gathered in the music room, waiting to go into the

auditorium. They took a minimalist approach to wardrobe: the
boys had on white tie-less suits, and the girls were in white v-
cut dresses. In a futile attempt to calm her nerves, Rachel had
taken to pacing the room in haphazard circles around
randomly selected objects. She walked around the piano 31
times, a chair 28 times, Finn 13 times and now Mike. The
current count was 11.

"You need to settle down there," Mercedes told her. "We don't
need you having a stroke fifteen minutes before the show."

"I'm nervous!" Rachel whined. "What if this is a bad idea?"

"I already told you it was," Finn muttered.

"What if it doesn't work? What if I just embarrass her? What if

she hates me after this?" Rachel was growing increasingly
hysterical, to the point of near-hyperventilation. That simply
wouldn't do. They needed their lead singer to be able to
breathe. Finn took her hand in his and forced her to sit.

"Rachel, it's going to be okay," he reassured. "It's too late to

change the routine anyway. We're just going to have to hope
for the best."

Before Rachel could continue her freak out, Mr. Schue entered
and announced that it was time for them to head to the
auditorium. Rachel followed her teammates out the door, her
feet heavy and dragging. Mr. Schue gave her an encouraging
smile as she exited, which was appreciated but honestly didn't
make her feel any better.

They filed into the packed auditorium and took their seats in
the front row. The other glee kids were already there and
seated. The two teams exchanged terse greetings. Rachel tried
to catch Quinn's eye in order to gauge her mood, but the
blonde resolutely refused eye contact. Rachel's heart sunk.
That wasn't a good sign.

Principal Figgins began the show with a brief introduction. The

first half ran like a variety show consisting of odd displays of
contortions, dances, magic tricks and one awkward act of
ventriloquism. Yet Rachel couldn't enjoy any of it. All she could
do was steal glances at Quinn and fidget nervously in her seat.
At last, it was time for the glee club to perform. Quinn's team
was to go first, and they left their seats to make their way
backstage. Puck winked at them as he passed by.

There was a brief lull as everyone waited for the next

performance. Rachel stared at the thick black curtain on the
stage, the conversational bubbling of the audience in her ear.
They might as well have been a babbling brook or a buzzing
hive; they were all only white noise. Rachel felt the acute
beating of her heart, and was sharply aware of each second
that ticked by. Just one more performance. Just one more
song. Ten more minutes, and it'll be her up on the stage for
the most important performance she's ever had and probably
ever will have.

The curtains started to rise. Rachel tried to quell her frenzied

nerves. She ought to at least set her neuroses aside a few
minutes to pay attention to her teammates' performance.

The stage was unveiled. Brittany and Santana were on the left
side; each standing before a microphone. Next to them, Kurt
sat on a box drum. Puck and Matt stood to the right, each with
an acoustic guitar strapped to them. Then there was Quinn,
center stage, breathtakingly gorgeous in a crimson red dress
that ended mid-thigh with thick red straps across creamy
white shoulders. Even as Rachel became flooded with a
healthy dose of hormones, she noted that it was strange to put
the ostensible lead singer, Puck in the background.

Kurt started thumping a simple swinging beat against the box

drum. Brittany and Santana clapped along. It didn't sound
very much like "Baba O'Riley". His palm muting the strings of
his guitar, Matt struck the strings, producing a rhythmic
accompaniment. Puck began to play his guitar. Rachel
recognized the chords immediately, and her heart seized wildly
with excitement.

Quinn stepped up to her microphone. Her eyes met Rachel's.

She smiled. And started to sing.

"When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around. Those

pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd."

It felt like a dream. So wonderful and surreal that Rachel had a

hard time believing that it was true. But here they were. There
Quinn was. In the back of her mind, Rachel thought that
maybe it was a coincidence that Quinn was singing this song.

"Oh, baby, give me one more chance to show you that I love
you. Won't you please let me back in your heart. Oh, darlin', I
was blind to let you go."

But Rachel could swear that Quinn was looking right at her.
Quinn took the microphone from its stand, and began to move
across the stage.

"But now since I see you in his arms, I want you back. Yes, I
do now."
She made her way down the stage's steps and into the
audience. Then she was before Rachel. She crouched down.
Her hand reached for Rachel's. Her touch was warm, and sent
a shiver down the brunette's spine.

"Tryin' to live without your love is one long sleepless night,"

Quinn sang, her eyes locked with Rachel's. "Let me show you,
girl, that I know wrong from right."

Tears pooled in Rachel's eyes, but the smile on her face was a
mile wide. Quinn rose to her feet and moved down to the next
person, Finn. She knelt to touch his hand too, but Rachel knew
that it was for show. She now knew that this song was for her
and only her. It was finally starting to sink in. Quinn had
changed the song for her. All this time that Rachel was on pins
and needles, planning her grand romantic gesture for Quinn
Fabray, Quinn had been doing the exact same thing. She'd
been playing a game of Spy v. Spy with Quinn and she didn't
even know it.

Quinn moved down the line, briefly singing to every glee

member, plus Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury, before retaking the
stage for the final chorus. When the song ended, the audience
erupted into wild applause. Rachel was instantly out of her
seat. She reached backstage in less than a minute. She
bobbed and weaved through the throngs of people, frantically
trying to catch a glimpse of red in the crowd.

She felt a hand on her elbow. It was Finn.

"She's already back in the audience," he said. Without

thinking, Rachel started moving toward the exit, but he
tightened his grip on her. "No! We have a show to do,
remember?"

For the first time in her life, Rachel was forced to take the
stage. She looked for Quinn as soon as the curtains went up.
Sure enough, there she was, still in that red dress. When their
eyes met, and Rachel felt the presence and noises of the world
drain away. She was dimly aware of the music striking up, and
she automatically sang along, but words didn't seem important
anymore.
As planned, their choreography involved approaching the other
glee members in the audience. Artie rolled up to Puck. Tina
sang to Santana. Mercedes crooned to Brittany. Mike was
naturally paired with Matt. Finn awkwardly serenaded Kurt.

"By now you should've somehow realized what you're not to

do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you
now."

And Rachel had Quinn.

***

With polite, perfunctory nods, Rachel pushed past the well-

wishers and admirers. Their congratulations meant nothing.
But she couldn't find her, and with every passing minutes, the
anxiety built with intense pressure.

"We tied with the other team," Mercedes told her with
disappointment. "Mr. Schue suggested that we do a mash-up
of both songs at Sectionals."

"Uh-huh," Rachel answered in a tone that said whatever.

"Have you seen Quinn?"

When Mercedes said no, Rachel moved away to seek out

someone else who could tell her where Quinn was.

"Music room," Santana finally told her. Rachel tore out of the
auditorium as fast as her little legs could carry her.

She frantically burst into the music room, half-expecting to

find it empty, half-expecting to find a gigantic banner that says
"Gotcha!"

But there was only Quinn, sitting patiently and demurely on

the piano bench. Quinn took one look at the breathless
brunette, and the first thing she said was,
"I love you."

The realization had came on so slowly that it was

imperceptible. Quinn couldn't say when it happened, only that
it did. There was no epiphany, no sudden stroke of clarity, and
no bolt of lightning. It was a slow trickle amassing daily until it
was a deep lake she couldn't refute or ignore.

"I'm sorry it took me so long, but I had to spend some time

putting myself back together," Quinn continued. "For the
longest time, I thought that things would be easier in the run
long if I gave you up, no matter how much it hurt in the
meanwhile - and god, it hurt. But I was wrong. Things don't
get always get easier, and they don't just magically work out
by themselves. I needed to do whatever I can to help myself.
That means you. I was a coward and I stupidly threw you
away. But now I see that there's really nothing scary about
this.

"I was afraid of everything. What my parents would do, what

people would think, what would happen if things don't work
out, and what's going to happen when we go to college. And to
be completely honest, I'm still worried. The odds are against
us, Rachel. But I was very wrong about one thing. You are
worth the risk, because I'm in love with you and I don't know
how not to be.

"Because it's like that moment when you wake up and realize
that it's a new day. The sun's on your face, the birds are
singing and you feel rested and alive. All the mistakes you
made belonged to yesterday and now here's another day to
start fresh. Everything feels brand new and wonderful. That's
what it's like when I'm with you. Always. All the time. I want
that back. I want you back."

Rachel said nothing. It was starting to make Quinn nervous.

"I, just... I hope it's not too late," she said quietly. "I know
that I hurt you, and I understand if-"

Rachel suddenly crossed the room in a few quick strides,

taking Quinn into her arms and crushing her lips against the
blonde's. Just like that, all the tension evaporated from
Quinn's body. She eagerly parted her mouth, letting Rachel in.
Rachel scrambled on top, her knees on the piano bench as she
straddled Quinn's waist. Their bodies were so tightly molded
together their dresses seemed to be a single weave of red-
and-white.

A warm glow flowed through the girls as they touched; this

was a balm on the gaping wounds they both carried since their
road trip ended. Suddenly, nothing hurt. Nothing except for
the clenching catch in their chests, but it wasn't an ache that
anyone would mind.

Both were flushed and panting when they finally parted. Quinn
rested her forehead against Rachel's, her fingers instinctively
but hesitatingly playing with the hem of Rachel's hiked-up
dress, because her newfound courage to act on her love for
Rachel Berry did not extend itself to sex in public spaces (yet).

"Rach, listen," Quinn began gently. "It's not going to be easy.

I'm getting help, but I still have a lot of things to work
through. You're going to have to be patient and I know that's
not fair-"

"I'm patient!" Rachel interrupted hastily. "I'm so patient!

Aren't I always?"

"I'm not like Brittany or Santana. I'm not ready to announce

everything to the world just yet."

"I know," said Rachel. "I don't care."

"It means that I can't take you home to meet my parents."

"That's probably for the best."

"I don't think I can take you to junior prom or anything."

"I find school dances to be trite anyway," Rachel replied

promptly.

"We shouldn't hold hands or kiss in school."

"Public displays of affection are overrated."

"And we probably shouldn't have sex either."

"What?!"

Quinn grinned mischievously. "Just kidding."

Rachel pouted at the trick; the situation could only be

remedied with physical contact, so Quinn pulled her back in for
a kiss which turned into two and three and four. The minutes
went by unnoticed by these two, for whom time and space
meant nothing.

They were forced to part by the sound of footsteps and voices.

Rachel reluctantly slid off Quinn's lap while the blonde
smoothed out the front of her dress, attempting to look as
innocent as possible. The glee kids stumbled through the door,
exuberant with the rush of performance, their voices
overlapping one another as multiple conversations carried on.

"I just helped my cheating, lying ex-girlfriend get with my

other cheating, lying ex-girlfriend," Finn griped. "I'm gonna be
pissed if I don't get to the good heaven after this."

"What's the good heaven?" Matt asked.

"The one with the dogs," Finn and Brittany chorused.

"How dare you!" Mike bellowed at Mercedes. "Miss

Congeniality is vastly superior to Two Weeks Notice!"

"...one week before the show - one freakin' week! - she tells
me that we gotta change the song," Puck was telling Tina and
Artie. "She threatened to shave my mohawk if we didn't!"

"At least she didn't threaten to change your Cheerios uniform

to gold pleather," Santana grumbled. "Pleather!"

When Quinn saw that the intruders were only their friends and
not any random gossip, she visibly relaxed, then reached out
to hold Rachel's hand. In front of them, she could be herself.

"Speak of the devil," Puck said when he saw Quinn. He spied

the hand-holding. "Did you two make up?" The girls both
nodded. "Did you kiss? Did I miss the kissing?"

"You missed a lot more than that," Rachel answered cheekily.

"No!" There might have been a genuine tone of distress in his

voice. "Do it again!"

"Dream on," Quinn snorted.

"All of you, listen up," Puck growled, pointing a finger at

everyone. "Any of you have something to say to someone,
learn to use your damn words. We're not doing any more
stupid musical grand gestures!"

There was a collective wave of protest.

"...For the rest of the year," Puck added reluctantly.

"For a month," Kurt offered.

"Six months," Puck countered.

When they all continued arguing, Rachel gently squeezed

Quinn's hand.

"What do you say we hit the road?"

"Where to?"

"My bedroom."

Quinn knew exactly what to say to that.

***

Epilogue
Everyone foresaw doom. They even had a pool going.

"I give them two weeks and then Quinn succumbs to gay
panic," Kurt predicted.

"Ten days," Santana said. "Before Berry does something

creepy and/or stupid."

"A month," Puck said with a leer, joking but kind of not. "Then
Quinn realizes what she's missing with a real stud like me."

He didn't appreciate the fact that they all promptly burst into
hysterical laughter.

But they were all wrong. Everything was peaceful between the
girls, aside from the occasional light bickering which always
inevitably ended with make-up sex. Things were so peaceful
that it was actually kind of dull - for the other people.

"You guys are so boring," Kurt moaned woefully. They had just
told him how they celebrated their one-year anniversary:
movie, dinner, cuddling. They left out the sex because they
knew that he wouldn't be interested in hearing about that.
"What's the point of having glee club's two biggest drama
queens hook up if there isn't going to be any actual drama?"

Rachel and Quinn just looked at one another, exchanged a

dopey smile which made Kurt groan in disgust, and snuggled
closer.

They did have one major fight in the spring of their senior
year; one that lasted three days. It started the day that Quinn
got her acceptance letter to NYU. They were at Brittany's
house (where Quinn still lived) when the letter came. Rachel,
having already been granted an early decision acceptance to
Juilliard, squealed loudly and threw her arms around her
girlfriend.

"We're going to New York!" When Quinn didn't return her

enthusiastic embrace, Rachel pulled back. "What's wrong?"
"I'm not going," Quinn mumbled.

"What?"

"New York is very expensive, especially a school like NYU. And

Michigan already offered me a full ride..."

"Michigan?! What's in Michigan?!" Rachel cried shrilly. "No, you

know what's not in Michigan? Me!"

"I just don't have the money," Quinn said with a helpless
shrug. "My parents aren't paying for college and I don't want
to be saddled with loans for the next fifteen years."

"I'm sure that my dads will be agreeable to-"

"Rach, no," Quinn said firmly. "I'm not taking money from your
parents."

"Well, I don't care. You're not going to Michigan." Rachel knew

that she was being childish, but she couldn't help it. Losing
Quinn was a very scary but very real prospect.

"Rachel, please just listen-"

"No!" Rachel got up from the couch. "I am not receptive to any
discussions about the future that doesn't involve you and I
being together."

Her subsequent storm-out was really one of the finest she ever
executed.

They fought about this for three days, alternating between

bouts of screaming matches and giving each other the silent
treatment. New York or Michigan. Michigan or New York. It was
going to be one or the other, the end of their relationship or
the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Neither contemplated the idea of going away to college while

maintaining a long-distance relationship. Rachel didn't because
she refused to consider any proposal that required Quinn being
away from her. Quinn didn't because she knew the odds of
success were extraordinarily slim. It was typical of their
differences in ideals. Quinn was practical but cowardly; Rachel
was romantic but absurd.

It was lucky that they loved each other enough to

compromise.

"We'll see how much the scholarship is," Quinn proposed. The
two of them agreed on a sum. "If it's equal to or more than
that, I can go to New York."

"What if it's less?" Rachel worried.

"We'll work it out then," Quinn said, secretly believing that

they wouldn't.

"We'll work it out," Rachel agreed, openly believing that they

would.

So they hung their hopes and their future on a number. They

were growing up.

The offer of scholarship arrived. It was a plain letter in a plain

envelope. Quinn brought it to Rachel's house as soon as she
saw it. They had agreed that they would open it together.
Rachel had prepared a box of tissues and a tub of ice cream -
just in case. Quinn opened the envelope, and took the letter
out. Before she could unfold it, Rachel stopped her, clasping
her hand over Quinn's.

"Quinn," she said.

"Yeah, Rach?"

"Let's stay together," Rachel said desperately. "Even if you

have to go to Michigan, let's stay together. I know that you
don't think that the long-distance thing could work, and maybe
you're right, but can we try anyway?"

"Okay," Quinn whispered with a nod. It was only human to

hope.
"And no matter what, I love you."

"I love you too."

They kissed. When they pulled apart, they smiled nervously at

each other.

Rachel took away her hand.

With shaky hands and a pounding heart, Quinn unfolded the

letter.

She scanned it quickly.

A slow smile started to spread.

In the end, they were going to New York City. And that was
only the beginning.