Thirty-One

Their lips parted leaving them both frozen, panting not a few inches apart. Brown eyes gazed up into hazel—entirely mesmerized by their dark swirling depths—honestly wondering if this was all an extremely vivid dream.

Quinn's beauty was certainly reminiscent of the most crush-worthy in all of Hollywood, so it was completely understandable to dream such things as Quinn holding her on the sidewalk outside her home. It was entirely conceivable when one also considered that Quinn had starred in her dreams once before. Rachel blushed, thanking Barbra for the midnight ambiance that hid her more than rosy cheeks.

A gust of wind was suddenly crawling up her back, seeping through her feeble pajama shirt rather effortlessly. Rachel instinctively shifted closer to Quinn—seeking some sort of shelter from the cold—as goose bumps wreaked havoc along her flesh.

The blonde started unzipping her jacket, Rachel being at the ready to protest but found herself unceremoniously pressed into the blonde's side—the flaps of the jacket and Quinn's arms wrapping her up almost instantaneously—before she could get even one word in. Tropical punch filled her senses rather quickly, as the tiny brunette's heart started to pound because this was most definitely not a delightful projection from her sullen subconscious.

Quinn LOVED her.

Yes, she supposed the capitalization and gold star glitter had very recently become redundant but Rachel decided her critics could just as easily shut the front door if they were bothered by it.

Because—she supposed—Quinn had options, as a girl as pretty as Quinn usually would.

The blonde's mother seemed far too interested in her daughter—and by extension the baby—to deny Quinn a home in a couple months time. Of course, it all hinged on the Fabray family patriarch, Mr. Fabray, but from what Santana had told her of him, he could most possibly be persuaded once everything was capable of being swept under the rug.

Don't get her wrong, she didn't expect Quinn to just freely announce their relationship over dinner the moment she was allowed entrance into her childhood home. It was just inevitable that the blonde would pull away to ensure that anything scandal worthy wouldn't chance her being kicked out once again, or Quinn had certainly conditioned her to think that way at least.

And Noah loved Quinn too. The boy was admittedly somewhat rough around the edges but possessed a rather tarnished heart of gold. Undoubtedly, he was certainly a far more acceptable candidate to date than her if Quinn was just looking for love.

Rachel's teeth found her bottom lip, biting it as she hesitantly looked back up into those wonderfully hazel eyes. "Does this mean that your recent plans have changed? That you don't plan to cast me aside to retain what you lost?"

Quinn sighed, her hot breath clouding the air in the moonlight. Suddenly, Rachel wasn't so confident in her idea to voice her concerns out loud; it was a rather horrible idea actually.

"Rachel," she felt Quinn's hand on her cheek and Rachel looked up, not having realized that she'd buried her face against Quinn's neck in her earlier quest for warmth. "I never wanted to…"

Words caught in the blonde's throat—as she sucked in a breath—and Quinn's brow furrowed the more frustrated she became by the lack of voluble cooperation.

"I know, Quinn," whispered Rachel and with the barest hint of a smile, she reached up to pull that hand and Quinn towards the porch, her smile only growing when the blonde followed quite effortlessly.

She led Quinn down gently onto the steps and snuggled in right beside her, hoping that such a position would see Quinn talking like she had been before. The blonde was gazing out into the street and Rachel was about to search out a few dozen leaves to watch when she felt herself being drawn back into Quinn's arms.

"I want you, Rachel. I've wanted you for what seems like forever," was mumbled against her shoulder as Quinn buried her face into her hair.

Rachel gasped. "How…how long have you felt that way?"

Brown eyes fluttered closed at the barely there brush of lips against the skin her pajama top left bare. Overly large button up shirts were always a guilty pleasure, such as the current one she was wearing decorated by multi-coloured stars.

"I don't know," Quinn mumbled, Rachel feeling the girl's chin resting comfortably on her shoulder, "but I knew for sure when I saw you singing with Finn. Coach Sylvester made us go so she could witness Mr. Schuester leaving for good and… and you were so beautiful."

The reverent husk in Quinn's voice had Rachel's heart skipping a beat, as she gazed bashfully at her socked feet. She remembered that moment quite clearly. Rachel (admittedly) hadn't seen Quinn at all—her eyes had been only on Finn—but it was odd to think that she'd been unwittingly afforded all she wanted that day while belting out the lyrics to Journey's most notable song.

Rachel looked up, softly gliding her lips across Quinn's cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, as she watched those hazel eyes flutter shut. "I know speaking in this fashion does not necessarily come easy for you but… are you sure, you want me that is? I'd understand, you know, because a functioning familial support system is quite essential to the proper development of the adoles—"

Gasping, the brunette continued to mumble against her favourite lips—well, to be honest everything about Quinn was something she valued quite favourably—but it didn't stop her from kissing back.

Kissing Quinn was quite wonderful, as one would imagine.

The blonde pulled away and was very quickly staring at her. Rachel's breath hitched because—by Barbra—Quinn was certainly breathtakingly gorgeous.

"You're right. This isn't easy for me. I don't… well, I don't do this," Quinn turned to look out into the street as she so softly carried on. "I don't think I'm really a relationship kind of person in the traditional sense. I want them for what they can do for me and… and I didn't want this because I thought Finn offered so much more."

Rachel just barely swallowed down the fury of questions just waiting at the tip of her tongue. To be honest, the words hurt, they hurt so much more than she'd originally thought because Rachel knew what she offered Quinn never had amounted to a whole lot.

Those leaves started to blur as she forced out, "I see but I gather that changed?"

"You changed my… Rachel I… please don't… I didn't mean to…" Quinn trailed off, hazel eyes flashing dark and frantic as the blonde hesitantly reached up to brush at the few tears that managed to fall. "I'm so sorry."

Rachel quickly shook her head, Quinn's hand falling helplessly to her lap as the tiny brunette took over wiping her eyes. "No, Quinn, what you said was completely true, I'm just finding it hard to hear—"

"No, Rachel, it's not." Hazel eyes were narrowed, the blonde's elegant fingers balling into fists along side the bump to her stomach. "I used to think so but that was before I felt all those people that used to stare at me from their lockers ram right into me like I didn't even matter all. You make me want more than that."

Rachel frowned because quite honestly being accosted by body check in the hall was rather painful and certainly Quinn knew that was the cost of being for Rachel as well. Her small stature certainly didn't offer any type of protection from those beastly football jocks for her or for Quinn.

"I don't understand…." she said softly, turning slightly so she was (once again) gazing up into hazel eyes.

The blonde sighed—Quinn's lip finding its way between her teeth, as she suddenly seemed so deep in thought—and then it all went away with a quick blink of the eye. "Do you remember what I said to you when you asked me why I started commenting on your MySpace?"

Rachel nodded, her eyes slightly hazy as she recalled that memory—of her being the big spoon—rather effortlessly. "You said that you didn't value the attention of our peers as you once did but you found that you liked mine…oh."

My Barbra, Rachel felt faint.

Quinn took her hand, squeezing it gently. "You're enough for me, Rachel. You make me feel special and safe. You cooked bacon for me and didn't imply I'm already gigantic and I didn't need all those deserts. I'm happy when I'm with you and you make me want to make you happy too."

"But…but your parents, Quinn," Rachel blurted out, silently cursing herself for being entirely too difficult. She just wanted this so badly and it was essentially far too good to be true. "I can understand your popularity but I can never give—"

Rachel sighed happily. She was quite approving of Quinn's fondness for mid-rant kissing. Rachel could certainly appreciate it as a highly formidable skill.

Quinn then moved away slightly, though her lips still ghosted across hers as she said, "I'll always want them to be proud of me, Rachel but… but not at the expense of this. Not at the expense of something I want."

The way Quinn was looking at her—the striking conviction in those hazel eyes—Rachel imagined Quinn hadn't allowed herself to want anything too much. Unlike Rachel, Quinn was quite naïve to the yearning of her inner most desires and such a realization certainly confused Rachel even more.

"You seem so sure of your decision when just mere days ago you were ready to sever ties. I just, I'm just confused as to how you can be so sure when—"

"Look, Rachel," Quinn turned until she was fully facing her, appearing as if this were her last stand. It would've been quite endearing if poor Rachel noticed over the anxious pound of her heart. "I know why you're hesitant and to be honest I'm scared too. After this baby is born, I planned to focus on getting everything back so I wouldn't have to think about everything I lost but now..."

"Quinn—"

"Just let me…" Quinn looked away, down at their joined fingers and sighed. "I can't say I'm completely comfortable with it yet but I…I think I already love her and… and it would be easier to just try to erase every possible reminisce that this ever happened but I can't."

Rachel squeezed Quinn's captured hand, finally recognizing how much Quinn stood to lose. She felt quite obtuse for not realizing where all this stemmed from earlier. "You don't have to—"

"No, I do," Quinn shook her head, her eyes pinched closed and Rachel liked the kisses a lot better. "The baby doesn't sleep at night, so I've had a lot of time to think and it would be easier but I know I don't want to forget you, Rachel. I think you're the only good thing to happen to me for a long time and… and my parents won't understand that but it's enough for me to face how hard this is going to be head on."

"Quinn, I'm so sorry I didn't realize—"

Their lips clashed, sliding together like soft whispers, as tears mottled each of their cheeks. This was enough for Rachel, she finally knew exactly where she was supposed to be.

Her part in this relationship was right there with Quinn.

Some things were rather beyond belief for Rachel Berry at the most inconvenient of times. Even after painstakingly honing a well adjusted, moderately level headed—unless one was attempting to usurp her solos—appearance in today's society, the root cause of these baffling moments remained irritatingly constant.

Rachel was emotional—so impatiently impulsive, daringly determined—just entirely theatrical. Her heart desired too much for her head to fully comprehend and Rachel was highly aware of—at often times—such a selfish character trait.

She knew who she was—Rachel had told Mr. Schuester as much—and though she was quite well adept at empathizing with other people's plight, Rachel almost always had no understanding of it at all.

She didn't encounter a lot of similar personalities in Lima, ones that breathed to perform and had marquee lights blinding their eyes. People with such professional struggles Rachel could closely relate too, she could even proficiently handle dealing with the adversity of her jealous peers, but even at their (most recent) lowest, her fathers would never afford her the awful experience necessary to completely understand Quinn.

Sighing, Rachel glanced down at the blonde with her head currently in her lap—allowing her tan hands to weave through such angel haired locks inherently—as her mind continued to race.

Quinn had stayed for breakfast with the intention of mourning her auntie's departure. Things had been wonderful and Quinn had been quite endearingly cute while eating three helpings of her daddy's—rather disgusting—bacon cheeseburger quiche. Everything had progressed fairly smoothly—except for the aforementioned cheesy monstrosity—and then came the inevitable goodbyes at the door.

Rachel watched her daddy drag her auntie's gigantic suitcase to the front hall. His struggle seemed to be quite the battle of balance, as he finally appeared panting beside his dearest sister, brightly coloured luggage in toe to deposit next to the matching set near her feet

"Wonderful," she clapped, looking up at her daddy with a pleased grin. "Everything is here but my flight leaves in two hours, so we must get them into the car."

"We?" her daddy grumbled, as he proceeded to heave the smaller of the three (already exceedingly large) cases towards the door.

Her dad apologetically patted his shoulder as he passed while her auntie rolled her eyes at his displeasure; Quinn being the only one to appear worried as her daddy tumbled out the door.

Rachel giggled—seeking out the blonde's hand to pull her closer beside her—as her auntie fondly mumbled, "Such a drama queen."

"That's our, Leroy," her dad sighed, his doting smile—as her daddy returned for case number two—was enough to have her heart skip a beat.

It had been so long since she'd been present for any affection between the two.

Her auntie winked at her before enthusiastically waving her arms in the air. "Okay, okay, where are my hugs?"

Her dad stepped forward first, rambunctiously swaying their joined bodies side-to-side when he finally got his arms around her auntie's waist.

"I'll missed you, Robin," he laughed, pulling away so they were at arms length. "It definitely won't be the same without you."

Her auntie chuckled. "I know, H. I know."

Rachel was quick to jump in the moment they fully separated. Her auntie's arms wrapped her up and the scent of wild flowers flittered just under her nose.

"Bye, Rachie," she whispered, the words just ghosting over the tips of her ears. "Remember you have a lot to offer, okay sweetie?"

And then her auntie was off, coaxing a hug from a blushing Quinn just a few feet away.

And that was undoubtedly the reason why Rachel was currently awake, freely permitting the How It's Made narrator to pretentiously explain the ins and outs of constructing the perfect soccer ball. She would've flipped the channel—in pointless revenge for such flippant attitude—but Rachel was afraid any movement would unintentionally wake the blonde currently using her as a pillow.

Her fathers had already returned from the airport and were primping for their plans to reconnect while bringing in the New Year. She'd be overjoyed that they were trying—and she was—but her auntie's words just continued to swirl and twirl—wreaking havoc—through her conscious mind. She was fairly desperate to piece together a formidable meaning to the overtly cryptic advice.

Because Quinn was prepared to give up so much—her family, her popularity, her peace of mind—just for Rachel and it was hard not to feel inferior to all that was stacked up in the loss pile. It was impossible for her to ever compete and yet her auntie seemed believe it was only prudent to tell her otherwise.

Brown eyes drifted closed—How It's Made (mercifully) being relegated to background noise—and Rachel was just lost.

There was nothing she could reasonably do but then she supposed that could've been the most foreseeable problem. Since her (recycled) picnic date—curse you, Finn Hudson—Rachel hadn't allowed herself any attempts at sweeping Quinn off her feet.

She'd been afraid.

Selfish.

She'd been selfish.

Her eyes snapped open at the pinging sounds of a new text message. It took a bit of maneuvering—on Rachel's part—but Quinn's (much needed) state restfulness remained unscathed.

Berry, I did wants to burry you alive in an open grave full of gravy, so you best not be bailing on New Years. Me and Brits will be over later.

Rachel rolled her eyes, though her body's involuntary shiver was quite hard to ignore. She imagined such a circumstance to be reminiscent of an underachieving slasher film just with an abundance of spiced animal fat splashed about. Shuddering, Rachel thanked Barbra when another message notification came in.

Don't worry, Rach. I told San if she wasn't nice to you she had to find her granny apples all by herself.

Well, that was certainly...

Sighing, Rachel shook her head, gazing thoughtfully down at Quinn—instead of pondering her way through making sense of everything that was (so terrifyingly) Brittany and Santana—and she couldn't help but wonder how somebody could be so pretty.

The blonde was certainly quite proficient at making Rachel's poor heart race.

Whether it was being anonymously charming through MySpace or countlessly choosing to show up at Rachel front door, it was all rather neatly tangled in such a widely romantic gesture that personified everything Quinn Fabray had to offer.

Offer.

The word seemed incapable of going away.

Rachel's mind continued to race and then the wholly familiar stirrings of success burned its way through her.

One foot and then the other touched the floor—and she really could be a world-class gymnast—as she padded off to her fathers' room because Rachel finally knew exactly what she had to do.

She was finally at Noah's infamous New Year's Eve bash, something that only the most popular were allowed entrance into. Okay, so Rachel supposed that seeing Kurt at the beginning of the night—curled around Mercedes' arm—lessened the prestige of the guest list but she was still (rightfully) tickled pink to be there.

Giggling, Rachel stumbled into the kitchen with Brittany, both in search of refills to their previous alcoholic beverages.

"Here, Rach," Brittany pushed a bottle at her, blue eyes so hazy and sparkly. "I think you'll like this. It tastes like rainbows."

Rachel blinked because Brittany kept multiplying far too quickly for Rachel to pin her down in time for a proper expression of thanks.

Still, she looked at the bottle in her hands before smiling brightly. "I appreciate that, Brittany."

Said girl was far too busy perfecting her pirouetting skills in the corner to pay Rachel any mind. It was entirely possible that Rachel had made a grave miscalculation when allowing Brittany to select her as her Beer Pong partner. Her excitement at being picked—and not relegated to a team by default—had seen Rachel freely forget all the pre-celebratory drinking Santana and Brittany had done earlier when they'd shown up on her doorstep Jose Cuervo in hand.

Quite unsurprisingly, the girl's aim was a little off.

No matter though, Rachel was still having an excellent time even if Quinn and Santana were still quite consumed with winning top prize in Noah's annual Beer Pong tournament. Top prize being an old bottle of Mountain Dew—wrapped in tinfoil with a ping-pong ball fastened to the top—indentified only by its sloppy black permanent marker etchings declaring such a creation the 'Puck Pong Cup.'

Apparently, it was very highly coveted amongst their peers and Quinn and Santana—being raining champions—were expected to defend their crown. Rachel didn't quite understand its great esteem—according to Brittany there was pimp in its juice—but it was wonderful to see Quinn be accepted into everything she lost just for one night.

"Hey, Rach, could you get me a beer?"

Rachel's eyes snapped away from—a still twirling—Brittany to see Finn dangerously teetering just in front of her.

"I suppose I can, yes," she offered, nodding afterward because it felt like the most logical action at the time.

Finn gave her that boyishly handsome grin and waited for her to procure his requested beverage from the fridge she was currently blocking him from.

He unfortunately wasn't going away.

Sighing, Rachel handed it over, silently pleading with him to leave her be. Their hands brushed and Finn fumbled with the can—just managing to catch it before it tumbled to the floor—and then he just stood there awkwardly blushing, fiddling with his recently rescued beverage.

Ultimately, just staring.

He undoubtedly still had feelings for her and it only made her feel guilty for not being able to express them in return. Being with Quinn, the personal implications were quite monumental, so much so that even she was still processing some of them. She loved Quinn but she had been greatly attracted to Finn. Rachel wasn't necessarily comfortable with such a grey area but then she maybe learned that her life was quite full of them, she just felt more content labeling them as black or white.

That still didn't change her current thoughts on Finn, as he clumsily stumbled closer to her. Rachel's innate reaction saw her stepping sideways towards the counter. It left Finn scratching his head.

"I'm sorry, you know," he said, turning towards her with such a sheepishly hangdog expression. "I know I was wrong to trick you and stuff. I just thought that if you gave us a chance you'd see what I see, that we're meant to be together."

Brown eyes desperately darted around in search of a twirling Brittany. The girl was (unfortunately) nowhere to be found. Sighing, Rachel reluctantly looked up at Finn.

"Are you incredibly intoxicated?" she questioned bluntly, her tone just simmering below shrill.

Finn's face scrunched up, looking confused as he continued thinking exceedingly too hard. "Well I can drink a lot, 'cause I'm tall and stuff and—"

"It was a rhetorical question, Finn," Rachel started wildly gesturing with her arms, "because it is the only—"

Her cleverly constructed rant was unceremoniously ended by her own yelp of surprise. All her swinging with abandon had finally burdened her inebriated balance far too much. She tumbled into what felt like an overly forgiving wall. Hazy brown eyes looked up and—oh sweet Barbra, no—she'd fallen into Finn.

He was holding her in his arms with that contented boyish grin plastered all over his face. It was enough to sober even the most influenced of minds and Rachel instantly had her hands up to push at his chest. He let her go but not before Quinn appeared to knee him in the groin.

"Quinn!" Rachel screamed, looking down at the hobbled boy clutching at his crotch to the self-satisfied smirk on the blonde's face as she watched the boy wither in pain at their feet. "You can't just… just… "

The blonde grabbed her hand, pulling her along with her as they both stepped over a tearful Finn. They passed a gleeful Santana at the entrance to the kitchen with Brittany standing a step behind her glaring fervently at the rather large blubbering giant still very much sprawled across the floor.

By the looks of things, Finn wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Rachel had just a moment to glance over her shoulder—spotting Santana now crouched near Finn's head—before she felt her legs hit the beginnings of stairs. Rachel quickly complied when Quinn started pulling again, taking step after step until they were stopped outside a closed door. The blonde procured a key from somewhere and said door was swiftly pushed open.

She spotted Noah's guitar in the corner but everything else was decidedly a less likely addition to what she imagined was his room. Things were clean, smelling suspiciously like synthetic lilac and a decidedly wonderful tropical breeze.

Quinn had been staying there.

Rachel frowned and whirled around to gaze at the blonde, who was currently leaning against a once again locked door.

"He sleeps downstairs on the couch," Quinn offered with a quirk of her brow.

The Puckerman couch was rather uncomfortable and so ridiculously in need of a slipcover. Its itchy orangey-brown fabric was just atrocious, so Rachel couldn't help it. "Noah loves you, you know?"

Quinn laughed but it was devoid of joy, only a slow moving melancholy that manifested with tearful hazel eyes. "I know but I love you."

It was seemingly enough, as Rachel remembered an equally tearful Quinn upset about hurting so many people. Noah would forever be on that list, connected to Quinn Fabray for the entirety of a lifetime.

It was understandable that Rachel was only mostly joking as she said, "So do you think I need to knee him in the groin and have Santana go all Lima Heights on him for good measure?"

"No, I don't think so, though Santana would love it." The blonde wiped her eyes, giggling softly as she let Rachel pull her into her arms. "Living here with him, he knows nothings ever going to happen but he keeps offering because he doesn't want to be like his father."

Rachel nodded, her fingers migrated up to the blonde locks hiding Quinn's beautiful eyes and gently combed them back behind her ear.

"I never thought I'd ever be here with you but I'm so completely happy that I am," Rachel whispered, leaning forward until their lips brushed softly. "Being here with you is my dream come true."

Quinn abruptly pulled away, her face feigning shock, hazel eyes once again sparkling. "But, Berry, what about Broadway?"

"Please," Rachel scoffed, coupled with a swift roll of her eyes. "Broadway is my inherent destiny, so it rightfully doesn't belong in the full fledged dream category."

Quinn laughed, shaking her head as the tiny brunette pouted in her arms. "I really love you, Rachel."

"Well, I've been told I'm exceptionally loveable," Rachel beamed but soon gazing up into Quinn's eyes had her anxiously biting at her lip. "Quinn, I need to apologize."

The blonde's smile fell, as she processed Rachel's words with a shake of her head. "Rachel—"

"No, Quinn, I must request you not interrupt or the hours I spent painstakingly practicing in the mirror will be for not."

Quinn nodded before she added, "Sure, Rachel."

Probably entirely in spite.

Rachel sighed.

She'd practiced this while Santana and Brittany spent an hour scouring her house for limes and Quinn had gone along to supervise. Well technically it was a brief run through but she'd been moderately pleased with the final result. Only now, Rachel was struggling for a place to begin and the more she faltered—feeling Quinn's inquisitive eyes burning into hers—the more nervous she became until it all came tumbling out in a slue of run on sentences.

"I know I'm selfish, sometimes I act selfishly without conscious thought. I almost regularly put my needs before others and I suppose I could excuse myself because my life thus far has just been comprised of being on my own but I refuse to commit such a injustice any longer. You deserve quite a lot more from me and sometimes I think about what you are freely walking away from in my name and I—"

"Rachel," Quinn interrupted, running her fingers softly over the tiny brunette's reddened cheeks. "Breathe please, sweetie. You look seconds away from passing out."

She didn't have the heart to reprimand Quinn after such a sweet term of endearment made her swoon, or that could be oxygen deprivation but she preferred to credit the more romantic of the two. Rachel breathed in deeply, exhaling as she gazed fondly up at Quinn and suddenly it all became crystal clear.

"I want to offer you the option to live with me and with my dads of course. I want to offer you a home, a place that you can always count on regardless of missteps or mistakes," Rachel paused seeing the tears in those hazel eyes and finally knew exactly what she wanted to say. "I suppose I essentially want to offer you me, if you'll have me. Unfortunately that isn't an euphemism for sex as of yet but—"

Rachel's eyes slipped closed as Quinn's tongue slipped through her lips. Slipping and sliding with hers in a tidal wave of delicious tropical fun.

"Yes, I…yes I'll be your girlfriend, Rachel." The tiny brunette hadn't even been aware Quinn had pulled away, as she gazed dreamily up into her favourite eyes. Rachel had the distinct feeling she tended to say that quite frequently. "Rachel?"

Said girl blinked once, then twice and her equilibrium seemed to be on its way back with a sudden jolt and a loud girlish squeal.

"This is wonderful, Quinn," Rachel clapped before attacking Quinn with another enthusiastic hug, "I feared all the HGTV I've been watching would only be a horrible lesbian cliché without a room to decorate."

"Rachel, I…" Quinn trailed off, gazing thoughtfully at Rachel for only a second before she sighed. "What did you have in mind?"

Rachel instantly dove into a rather lengthy—and quite lively—explanation of all her makeover plans. Sighing, Quinn lead her to the bed, situating herself in Rachel's arms—seemingly without the brunette's knowledge—as the tiny brunette ranted on.

Rachel smiled—while in the midst of relaying her intentions for crown molding—hanging on tightly to the blonde nestled quite comfortably in her arms.

The End.

Well, this is it and thank god it's over! I'm easily distracted by shiny things so the mere fact that 'The End' actually made it onto the page probably had a lot to do with some of the awesome reviews I've received. This fic could've honestly gone on forever but I think this is where it needs to end, mostly because when I set out to write this fic I wanted Rachel to find that person to love her unconditionally. She's found that in Quinn and whether Quinn sticks to her convictions or not, she'll still be that person for Rachel in the end. Anyway, it's been fun and thanks for reading.