A few words. First, sometimes I forget that you guys can't read my mind. I looked back and thought to myself "Where the hell are my 'thank you so much for your reviews'?" Because, really, your reviews are what I write for. So, if you left one, know that it made me smile. Know that you review motivated me to write this, and try to forgive me for forgetting that you're not all mind-readers.

Second, I'm literally leaving for Army Basic Training today and I'm actually running late because I had to finish this story. Because I'm at my best when I'm pressed for time :)

Third, here's the end. I don't know if it's rushed but I've had the actual ending planned since this story's creation.

Last, not only is this completely un-beta'd, but I haven't even read through it. Like, I literally wrote this, I'm posting it, and then I'm leaving the moment it's up. I'm in the process of 6 other stories at the moment, and I'll post the beginning of one up right now.

I lied, this is the last note. Feel free to leave me reviews (that I will hold oh so dearly to my heart when I get back from basic).

I lied again, this is my last note, honest. Do me the biggest favor in the world and read this fic:

s/8996690/1/All-That-s-Best

Maybe it's because I have a thing for historical Faberry (Princesses, or in this case Duchesses), but it's spectacular. Give it a huge go. (My ulterior motives are that you guys will love it and review and so she'll update more and so when I get back from training it'll be finished for me).

Quinn hadn't heard from Shuester in years. While her relationship with him had never been as close as other members of the glee club, she had considered him one of her favorite teachers. In a way, she'd appreciated him more so because of his imperfections. He'd occasionally go on a rant or do something completely unorthodox, but it taught her that not even adults had their lives figured out. For a sixteen year old girl, that had meant a lot. It had given her insight as to what her parents were doing wrong—that they were able to do wrong in the first place.

Inadvertently, Mr. Shuester had helped her cope, especially during her senior year.

Still, it was odd that he had called her—especially when the call wasn't even really about her.

At first, she couldn't really believe what she was hearing, but then she remembered that he was still Shuester, and that meant he was sometimes oblivious. Of course he'd seen pictures of her online, but particularly of her and Rachel Berry. Who happened to be on Broadway, he mentioned. She rolled her eyes, frowning in Rachel's direction as the man went on about how great it would be if Quinn could get Rachel to visit the current Glee Club.

"Really, Quinn, I think that it would be an experience they'd never forget, if she's willing." Quinn wondered if the experience would be for the club or for Shuester, but she knew it was probably both.

Either way, she basically spent the rest of the short conversation telling him she'd mention it but there were no promises. Was it crossing a line to ask Rachel to talk to high school kids, especially ones she'd never met? Sure, she'd had a decent group of people in the club during her time, but who knew what the kids would be like today? Plus, though she was much closer to Rachel now, she wasn't sure how she'd even approach the subject.

Ending the call, Quinn walked back over to her spot across from Rachel and said, "Well, that was interesting."

"Your high school Glee Club teacher called you to ask if we were friends?" Rachel cocked her head to the side, oddly amused. It was fortunate that the mood in the room had changed because her heart had finally stopped feeling like she was an 80 year old running a marathon. Beth was still behind her, located on the couch, but she had stopped playing with Rachel's hair and had instead opted to take a nap.

Quinn's cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she rolled her eyes from her position across from Rachel. "Yea, well. Apparently I'm the only one in the world who didn't recognize you."

As she hummed, Rachel gave Quinn a look. "So what'd he want that you seemed so hesitant about?"

Quinn paused as she ran her hand through her hair before looking anywhere but at her friend. Unless he had asked for something inappropriate—which she highly doubted, though part of her would've seen the humor in it—Rachel didn't understand Quinn's reluctance. She had a guess as to what he'd asked, from listening to Quinn's responses, but she wasn't sure how correct those assumptions were.

"For you to visit and talk to his club, but, as you likely heard, I told him that you—"

"I'd love to go." The words were out of her mouth before Rachel even had time to think them, and she was taken aback.

Quinn, apparently in no better condition, blinked a few times at the statement. "Rach—"

"I already had a trip planned for Cincinnati to visit my fathers." She talked too fast to understand where her brain was taking her. "Lima can't be that far away, right? It'll be like a mini vacation in an already mini vacation. Unless…you think I should not go, that is. In which case, that's no big deal," she finished realizing that maybe Quinn wouldn't want her to go to Lima.

"No! That's not how I meant it, I just… Are you sure?" The blonde went back to rubbing her hand over her neck. It was obvious she didn't want to ask Rachel to do it, as if she thought it was too much to ask, but there was a definite hope somewhere in there and Rachel could sense it.

"He wants me to visit to inspire the kids in the club, right? To show them that their time spent there might not be a complete waste?" She wished her choir teacher had done the same for her. Sure, most people in her school recognized her talent, but it wasn't as if she'd had anyone to talk to about it. No one in her school had been able to relate, not really. For most of her peers, singing had been a side thing, something to get extra credit for.

"Yeah, that sort of thing. He took us to New York when I was there. I guess he wants you to talk to them, maybe sing something. I'm not one hundred percent sure—he's kind of unpredictable at his best."

It was funny, Rachel thought. Most of her life she'd spent worrying about her own dreams. Having a destination—or just a plan in general—had been something Rachel had always had in her back pocket. Broadway aside, because that had always been her main goal, she'd had a list of things to accomplish since she could write. At first, it would be things like winning a dance competition, or being chosen to sing the national anthem. Sometimes it was as simple as being the first one in class to finish the book the teacher had chosen. Whatever it was, she had written it down and made it happen.

Freshman year of high school, her goal had been to fit in and make friends. Sophomore year, it had been to form a Show Choir. Junior year, it was to make it to Nationals, which led to Senior year's goal of getting into NYADA. Of course, not all of her ambitions had become realities. While not ostracized, she'd had very few friends in high school. Part of it was by choice, and part was because she was simply more mature than her peers at the time.

When it came to NYADA, she'd made plans to star in the school's plays and musicals, and she had. She'd made plans to audition for off-Broadway shows, too, and she'd even snagged a role during her Freshman year.

By the time college had finished, she'd run out of plans because she'd simply accomplished any that she had ever had.

Except one.

And that one hadn't been given much focus because it was something she had figured would come with time. Then, senior year of college had come and she'd given up the goal completely.

So it was funny because now she wasn't worrying about her own goals—now she was thinking about these kids in a Glee Club that she hadn't even met yet. She was picturing herself in high school, with a Broadway star visiting her and telling her that she was worth something. Not that she was comparing herself, but she pictured Barbra visiting her and…how much she could've used that visit, or a visit similar to.

"Every dreamer could use a few words, Quinn, whether they're spoken or sung. And, if this club is similar to how it was when you were there, I think I'll like it a lot."

They'd been so close to something, Quinn knew. Before Shuester called, something was about to happen. She couldn't say what, exactly, but something would've changed. Part of her hoped while another part of her tried to protect itself. She wasn't a wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve type of person. It had taken time for her to let anyone in, even Brittany and Santana had had to worm their way in after years.

Yet, Rachel made her feel as if she did more than that—she felt like she was waving around a flag, wearing a shirt, singing a freaking song, that expressed how she was feeling at all times. She was slightly terrified, if one could be terrified only slightly. She wasn't a cold person, not anymore, but she did like to think she was at least partly in control of things. Any Rachel wasn't helping with that aspect of her life.

Just as she was driving herself deeper into her thoughts, Beth brought her back to reality.

"Mommy, when awe we leavin'?"

"Three more days, babe," she answered, chewing her lip now that she thought about it.

She still couldn't believe the turn of events, but she was no longer fighting herself over it. The brunette had insisted that she had already been planning on traveling back to Cincinnati but Quinn held onto her reservations. Yes, she'd been spending more time with the other woman, but she wasn't sure if bringing Rachel to her hometown was something she should do. It wasn't as if she was opposed to the idea, at least not inherently. She just…it was odd.

How many times she'd replayed her situation over and over in her mind was getting out of hand. In a relatively short amount of time, her life had been flipped over only to be re-flipped over and then dropped into a bucket of paint and splattered all over the place.

It was personal, Rachel coming to her hometown. It was as if it solidified...something.

It changed everything.

Yet, there was still so much they had to learn about each other.

Yes, Quinn knew things about Rachel; they hadn't simply talked about Beth the whole time. Quinn knew Rachel's favorite color was pink, much to the brunette's chagrin. "I try not to like it," she'd said. "It's such a childish, girly color for me to like, but I just can't. It's just this color that makes me happy every time I see it, unfortunately." Quinn had laughed at the woman's pout, amused at her obvious disappointment with herself.

Quinn also knew that Rachel had forgone her vegan diet for a year of college and had substituted it with a vegetarian diet because she was the average poor college student trying to make it by. Turned out, Quinn hadn't been alone in her Ramen noodle ways.

She knew that Rachel had two dads, completely gay and in love with each other, and that they probably believed in happy endings more than Rachel herself did. That little tidbit had almost been missed, but the blonde had caught on to the wistful edge of Rachel's voice. "Sometimes I think that my fathers would make better Disney Princesses than me."

And then—and this had been garnered earlier that night after she'd ended the call with Shuester—she'd found out that Rachel had a soft spot for dreamers. She wanted to visit a high school where kids fought against the odds.

So Quinn didn't know much about Rachel, and she was looking forward to learning more, but she knew that Rachel visiting her high school meant more to Rachel than just visiting a high school.

And she was willing to see what that meant for them.

A few nights after leaving Quinn's apartment, Rachel's self-denial had simply given up pretending. She plopped onto her bed, huffing to herself as she tossed and turned all night, unable to find a position comfortable enough for her mood. The bed was too warm, her pillow too cold, her arms too in the way, and her hair too in her face. Her legs were too unwillingly to stay still and her eyes too unwillingly to stay shut.

Slamming her head into her pillow, Rachel groaned at herself. Her feelings and thoughts were beginning to overwhelm her. Part of her continually berated herself for talking to Beth in the first place. For trying to console the girl with words. For allowing the kid to cling to her. For using her voice and singing to her.

In other words, for having a soul again.

Life was much easier to live without a soul. It was so much easier to live without the wish of having wishes. She hated herself for not simply handing Beth off and never talking to the family again. She hated herself for not seeing the hairclip as it fell and for not giving it to Beth while still in the elevator.

She hated that Quinn was this beautiful person that she didn't think could ever exist in the world.

She hated that Quinn's favorite food, to this day, was a peanut butter and jam sandwich (because jelly reminded her too much of plasma and the gel they'd put on her belly when they'd sonogram'd her).

She hated that Quinn's favorite color was yellow because it was bright and reminded her of laughter, and that it was Beth's first word.

Rachel hated that Quinn had choked up a little when Elphaba was verbally abused by Glinda, that she'd given her daughter this look of apprehension for the girl's future, because Quinn had seen too many people broken by the words of her peers when she was young.

Rachel hated that all of these facts just made her chest fill with this weird warmth and tightness that she couldn't explain. She hated that she had never been as happy as when she sat across from the blonde as Beth played with her hair. That she'd never felt so content to just be—in the moment and in life.

She hated that she was pretty sure she was falling, just a little bit, for Quinn because she was finally admitting it to herself and she might as well have just stuck a knife in her chest because it fucking hurt. It hurt, if Rachel was honest with herself, because Quinn was a woman.

She'd hated more that she loved what she was feeling, but she had never had to relive so many feelings all at once before.

She felt like she was back in high school, when the occasional douchebag would bump into her in the hallway and say "Loser." She could still feel the force of her books being shoved to the floor as someone whispered, "Oops. Can't hold down your books or a boyfriend." While not immediately traumatizing, it had stung enough to wound her. The worst one, on the other hand, wasn't even a good insult, yet she had never brushed it off as she had the others: "Faggots." It hadn't even been directly aimed at her, really. It was obviously intended for her fathers, but the one time that it was said to her was more than enough.

Being called a loser hadn't affected her much. The 'faggots,' though. She had been walking back to her locker and there it had been written thickly in permanent marker. She'd tried so hard not to cry, not in front of them. It had taken so much out of her then.

Gasping, she finally managed to have some semblance of a reaction, and the tears practically shoved themselves out. Her whole life she'd worked to prove…so many things. She fit so many stereotypes, and she tried so hard to work against them. Raised by gay parents and on Broadway. Her favorite metaphor was the gold star—no, the pun had not been lost on her. She was obsessed with New York and happened to be a vegan. There were more, and not all of them related to each other, but, in the end, the stress from maintaining all of them went to the same place. And that place was currently overflowing.

Throat tight, she scrambled to the kitchen for a glass and watched as the water quickly filled it up. Sitting in a chair, she laid her head on her arms and choked down…whatever feeling was overwhelming her. She took sips between thoughts and stared at the meniscus of water, tilting the glass to watch it move and stick to a different part of the glass. She felt as if parts of her got stuck like that, and she wondered who would help her get unstuck.

After about half an hour, she placed her finished cup in the sink and rubbed her eyes. It sucked, accepting the truth. But she wasn't in high school anymore and she knew better now. Now, she didn't have to fear rude slurs in hallways or invitations for threeways. Sure, she had the world to deal with, but what the fuck else was new?

Reaching for her phone, she sent Josh a text to book two extra flights to Cincinnati. She added that he was on paid leave for the next fifteen days, but she refrained from telling him to spend that time with his son. She doubted he knew that she knew about Nathan.

A wry smile formed on her lips as she thought back to why she'd hired Josh in the first place. He'd had no experience, he was a mumbling, nervous mess at his interview, and he was often a car wreck waiting to happen. But she'd had every interviewee background checked and there had been a picture of his son, smiling from his spot on top of Josh's shoulders. So he'd been a terrible choice, but how was she supposed to turn down a struggling father? Especially when he was so young and his wife, who he'd married in high school, had died during childbirth.

Spend the time wisely, she texted him instead. Why let him know she had a heart?

Though the week went by pretty fast for Quinn—she was always either working or spending time with Rachel and/or Beth—she realized a few things about her situation: Rachel would come over almost every night, cancelling only when her work went too late.

The first time the brunette had called, Quinn hadn't expected the jolt of disappointment she'd felt.

The second time, she had been a little less shocked.

It wasn't until Rachel called to say she'd be early that Quinn knew for certain.

The blonde wasn't oblivious to her feelings, but she almost wished she was.

Between working on set for long hours so that she could have it finished by the time she left and spending time with Quinn, Rachel couldn't wait to have some free time. Because it was so low budget, it was moving along extremely fast, and Rachel was happy with the progress. It wasn't as if the movie was going to be a huge hit, but it certainly wasn't going to be cringe-worthy, which is all she really cared about in the end.

The part she most enjoyed about everything was that the cast got along really well. She hadn't been around people so genuinely…well, genuine, in a long time. Everyone wanted to be there and it was strange for Rachel. She was used to at least a few people who put up attitude, and she wouldn't deny that sometimes she was that person. It was all for the best, she supposed, because, at the very least, there would be some nice onscreen chemistry, and that wasn't an easy stunt to pull.

However, when it came to the trip, Rachel was pathetically nervous.

It was seeing her fathers that had her all scrambled up inside. Part of her wanted to cry, thinking of their familiar, but also not so familiar, faces. Another part of her wanted to laugh for the same reason. She ended up just swallowing a lot and hoping that she wouldn't turn into a complete mess when she saw them. Then she figured the likelihood of that wasn't in her favor.

In order to prevent the full on panic mode she knew she'd face soon enough, Rachel had decided to spend most of her free time with Quinn. She tried to tell herself if was for Beth's sake, and in part it still probably was, but she found out that lying to herself didn't work for very long. Sighing, she knocked on Quinn's door, as she had already walked over from work, and leaned against the wall. Her brain really needed to stop thinking.

By the time Quinn answered the door, Rachel's mind had calmed down, but then the rest of her…didn't. She told herself that if Quinn would just not smile so beautifully she wouldn't be trapped every time she saw the blonde. Then again, if it wasn't her smile, it would be her eyes. If not her eyes, surely it would be her laugh. If not her laugh then…well, there was no end, really.

Never having had feelings for a friend before, or a woman in general, Rachel didn't really know how to handle to situation. Quinn hadn't seemed to suspect anything, on the plus side, so Rachel was more than willing to just ignore her thoughts for the time being. Had she not been an actress, she would've been screwed.

"Hey," Quinn greeted, that glorious smile in place.

"Hi Wachel." Beth poked her head out from between her mother's legs before reaching for Rachel's hand and yanking her over to a spot on the floor. "Will you play with me? Mommy's busy."

Looking down, Rachel turned to Quinn with her eyebrow raised. "You own Candy Land?"

"I don't know what you find so funny." Rachel sat by the board game, chin lifted in the air. Quinn rolled her eyes at the dramatics and chuckled.

"You know, I never took you for a poor sport." Granted, Beth's reign of Candy Land terror had left Rachel with six rounds of defeat and not a single win. Still, the brunette was proving to be incredibly terrible at pretending to take the losses well. At least she'd remained stoic until Beth left.

"I never took you for the type to teach you daughter to cheat!" Rachel glared at Quinn and crossed her arms.

"You're joking, right? You're insufferable," the blonde replied, smile in place. She started packing up the game, folding the board into its half-then-half-again style. Rachel joined in and packed all of the cards back into one pile.

"Besides, Rachel Berry does not lose. She admits defeat gracefully."

Snorting, Quinn put the box cover on and mumbled under her breath, "Yeah, the grace of a one-legged elephant, maybe."

"What was that?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but this is not how I pictured Beth's reaction to being in an airplane." Rachel twisted around in her seat and her head was slightly cocked to the side as she watched Beth's sleeping form to her left. Beth had insisted on the window seat, which left the two middle seats, slightly angled toward each other, for Quinn and Rachel. It worked out, seeing as Beth had passed out five minutes later. At least they both had someone to talk to now, instead of only having Beth to stare at. Not that it wouldn't have been endearing…but it wasn't worth over two hours of staring. Well, not without looking incredibly creepy.

Quinn just chuckled. "Well, thank you for thinking my daughter was going to go batshit crazy." The gleam in her eyes gave Rachel reason to shake her head and return the smile.

"You know what I meant. I expected a little more enthusiasm for the clouds, and the sky, and stuff." She waved her arms at stuff, looking completely ridiculous.

"I take it somebody loved flying as a kid, huh?" Quinn teased, picturing little Rachel pointing at the window and screaming to her dads about the clouds and the little people. She couldn't say that the idea wasn't adorable.

"What kind of kid doesn't enjoy flying?" Rachel couldn't fathom being a child on a plane and not staring out the window for at least half the trip. Hell, she usually did that as an adult.

There was a comfortable silence for a few moments before Quinn looked back over to Rachel and spoke. "You know, I'm still not sure how I feel about you paying for our tickets."

Rachel rolled her eyes as she had earlier when Quinn had brought up the issue.

"How many times must I tell you? First, I had way too many points so your flight was free anyway. Second, you're only in this plane because of me. Third, I eat all of your food these days anyway. Think of it as an inadvertent way of paying for your groceries."

Quinn paused before asking, "Did you breathe?"

"Please, Quinn. I'm on Broadway; I have excellent breath control."

For a while after that, Rachel just relaxed in her seat and chose to think about her week. While she'd spent a majority of her time on the small set she had been working with, she'd seen Quinn almost every day. After the photographs online, they'd mostly chosen to stay inside. Unexpectedly, Quinn had told Rachel that she hadn't minded having the pictures online, she just didn't want to have to worry about Beth in the grand scheme of things. She'd even laughed and said, "Not that I'll ever stop worrying about her, but at least this is one less thing."

"Hey, Rach?" she heard Quinn ask a while later.

"Hmm?" she cracked an eye open to find Quinn leaning forward onto the table-ish thing.

"I forgot to mention. Shuester's wife has really bad OCD, so I suggest not…saying anything about it. She's gets defensive."

By some stroke of luck, Rachel had avoided any form of a panic attack until the cab had pulled onto her street. It seemed as if Quinn and Beth had served as a buffer, but the familiar line of houses had thrown her head first into panic mode. All of the thoughts of I haven't seen them in years, and what if they secretly hate me now? and worse, what if it's awkward? filled her mind. Objectively, she knew that all of her worries were for nothing—she hadn't been the only one to cry during her phone call home. Still, her hitched breath did not go unnoticed.

"Hey, Rach." She felt Quinn take her hand and instantly calmed down a little bit. "You're going to fine, okay? You're going to knock, they're going to answer, and me and Beth will awkwardly stand behind you witnessing the whole thing." The last part did its job and the brunette cracked a smile.

Rachel tried to figure out when Quinn had become this source of—this grounding force. She remembered the night they talked about their families. Rachel had been surprised that Quinn hadn't talked to hers since high school, just as Quinn had probably been surprised that Rachel was really close to her own family, up until senior year of college.

She squeezed Quinn's hand. "Thanks."

The temporary reprieve from her emotions ended the moment she stood on the porch. She took a deep breath before finally managing to knock twice. It wasn't more than three seconds later that the door swung wide open and Rachel felt her chest almost burst. There was that awkward moment when everyone just stood there, frozen in place, before Rachel finally broke.

"Dads!" She stepped forward and practically jumped into their arms.

Both men wrapped their free arms around her with only a slight ompf and held on tight.

It wasn't as uncomfortable as Quinn had first imagined it would be to watch. If anything, she was actually intimidated—she hadn't expected one of Rachel's fathers to be so…big. Leroy was a bare minimum of six feet tall, while Hiram only looked to be a little less than six feet. She was happy Rachel had showed her a picture and told her their names, but she wished Rachel had chosen a picture that properly conveyed their size. Because Rachel was tiny and she certainly hadn't expected such a difference. Not that she had anything to worry about, seeing as it wasn't as if she was a teenager taking her out on a—

Before Quinn could even finish the thought, she was wrapped in a hug after having missed the "And you must be Quinn." Surprised, she responded by reflex and managed to blink at Rachel. The bitten lip she got in response was so not helping her situation. In the brunette's defense, Rachel had told Quinn that Hiram was the hugger of the family, as Rachel had been years ago.

"Excuse me." Quinn looked down to find Beth at Leroy's feet, tugging on his pant leg. She almost told the girl to come back over, but the look on Leroy's face made her refrain. How many times she had seen Rachel look at Beth with the same expression was uncanny. In that moment, Quinn discovered that Rachel was probably a lot more like her fathers than she had let on. She was in for a rough week if that was the case.

"Yes?" he asked, bending down to meet her at eye level.

She bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows as she looked him up and down. "Why awe you so tall?"

The few days that Rachel spent with her fathers went much smoother than she had imagined. As she'd expected, they'd fallen in love with her blonde companions almost immediately. Beth had them wrapped around her tiny little finger from the moment she'd tugged on Leroy's pants. Quinn hadn't taken much longer, offering to help set the table and all that jazz. Rachel wondered about what her life would've been like had she met Quinn earlier. Her fathers would've most definitely approved of her presence.

However, despite how well things were going, they chose not to talk about the elephant in the room—her absence from their life—until the third day. Quinn and Beth were already headed towards Hiram's car—he'd lent it to them for the next few days—when they'd tugged her into one last hug and spoke.

"You don't get to disappear this time, Rachel. I won't have it," Hiram said, hands on her shoulders so she couldn't look away.

"He's right, kiddo. I'm an old man, now. My heart can't take it at my age."

She rolled her eyes, distracting herself so she wouldn't cry. "You're hardly even 50, daddy." A sudden wave of guilt washed over her as she realized that she hadn't been there to celebrate his 50th birthday. She suddenly wondered what he had done to celebrate it. Had her fathers gone out to dinner? Had they walked over to the theater and seen a movie? Or had he stayed in, blowing out a candle and wishing she was there?

When he tilted her chin up, she swallowed.

"I mean it, Rachel. We'll talk when you get back," he finished by kissing her on top of her head after one last hug.

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to be feeling so her body decided to feel everything at once.

The two hour car ride had flown by, and Quinn wondered if it was a trick of the mind. How fast had Rachel been driving, anyway? It seemed as if a half an hour had passed, maybe an hour, but certainly not two. Yet, the clock read 1:31pm, and they'd left at a little after eleven in the morning. Quinn figured Beth's car ride antics were up for blame, though technically Quinn had been the one to teach her the games.

Rachel had been some kind of sign-spotting genius. Every time she'd needed to find a word starting with her letter, she'd found it almost immediately. Really, though, how was she supposed to know they'd pass a store called "X-Rated?" Worse had been when Beth had asked what that meant and Rachel nearly swerved off the road when the girl had said "Is that the porn stuff Aunt Santana was talkin' bout?"

Quinn made sure to leave her friend a nice text message telling her they'd be having a nice chat soon. Her daughter knew the word porn. What was the world coming to?

"I'm suddenly having second thoughts." Rachel hesitated at the entrance of the show choir room. The door was closed, likely so outside noise wouldn't affect the group, but she couldn't help feeling like she was intruding on something. She hadn't gone to this school, nor did she have any connection to it other than Quinn. But maybe that was what she needed, seeing as her own high school connections were not something she wanted to ponder about.

"Why?" Beth asked from beside her, looking up and squeezing Rachel's hand tighter in her own smaller one. Rachel could feel Quinn's gaze and kept her own eyes down in order to avoid it.

"You don't have to do this, Rach," Quinn repeated not for the first time. "Really." But Rachel didn't want to disappoint, and she definitely didn't want to admit to cowering out. It wasn't that she couldn't enter the room, she was just slightly intimidated by the door separating her from a group of kids who would remind her of her past self.

The tabloids had gotten it wrong when they'd called her a heartless bitch. It wasn't that she didn't care, it was that she couldn't care because caring meant she'd have to hope. And hope had left her so long ago.

And high school kids were full of hope. That's all they were: hope to get out, hope to be famous, hope to get into the college of choice, hope life gets better, hope life doesn't change. For everything, there was hope. Rachel knew expectations, those were comfortable. She'd expected to make it to Broadway, not hoped, because she knew her talent was enough. She'd hoped for Broadway and a family, a life outside of work, but she'd gone and messed that up a long time ago.

Trying to focus, Rachel gave up her avoidance tactics and looked over to Quinn. "They know we're coming?"

Quinn smiled that smile that got Rachel every time—which wasn't saying much because every one of Quinn's smiles got to her—and her whole body felt warm. "I called Shuester before we left."

Rachel nodded, then, and squatted down. "Because." She ruffled Beth's hair, much to the girl's annoyance. "What if they're all taller than me?"

"Oh." Beth nodded as if it was a very serious matter that she understood. "Well, I'll pwotect you if they'we mean."

"Promise?" She asked, smiling at the girl's nod in reply. She refused to meet Quinn's gaze again at the moment, knowing that she was using Beth as a distracting force field. Her fathers always said they could practically see her thoughts behind her eyes and, though she'd spent years building up her defenses, she wasn't so sure how strong they were anymore. If she just pretended for one moment that she didn't care for Quinn more than she should, maybe she'd believe it.

Quinn found it odd, and maybe a tad bit concerning, that Rachel could switch emotions so fast. In private, she was nervous and even a bit shy at times. Yet, the moment they'd entered the room, Rachel was nothing but stoic confidence. And maybe that was kind of attractive, but Quinn tried not to pay attention to that fact.

Only one girl had immediately recognized Rachel, eyes going wide and jaw dropping. The boy next to her seemed to have noticed her reaction, though, and tilted his head to the side as if searching his mind. Before anyone could say anything, Shuester turned from his spot writing on the board and raised his hands in the air. Quinn hoped he wasn't going to hug her, but to be safe she reached down for Beth and picked her up.

"Quinn, you're here! And Miss Berry, it's so nice to meet you. I'm so glad you could make it." He walked over to shake her hand and Quinn tried to hide a smile at the expression on Rachel's face—her confidence was quickly turning into "why is this strange man touching me." Granted, a handshake was a normal thing, but Shuester always managed to make things weird.

She watched as he turned to the room, placing his hands on the piano to contain his child-like excitement. "Guys, this is my old student Quinn Fabray, her daughter Beth, and her friend Rachel Berry—the one Katie mentioned the other day."

"The Broadway singer? No way." Quinn watches as the girl who spoke crosses her arms in front of her chest and leans back in her chair, and she swears it's practically a younger version of Santana sitting before her.

"You say that as if you were a fan and you were offended that someone would claim to be me, yet your lack of recognition leads me to believe otherwi—" Before Rachel could finish, the girl whose jaw dropped—Quinn assumed this is the Katie that Shuester mentioned—started squealing and was almost bouncing in her seat. "Can I have your autograph? I follow you on twitter and facebook, even though you don't post so often on those anymore. Oh, and I've been to 26 of your shows, each of them at least 4 times. And I already have your autograph on twelve of the playbills but you can never have enough!" Almost immediately the girl stops talking and her face goes beat red. Rachel just looks over at Quinn and smiles, and Quinn realizes she's in a little deeper than she thought when she realizes it actually hurts for her heart to beat in that moment.

After the initial reaction, most of the kids caught on and understood who she was. Each one had some knowledge of her, and Rachel was convinced that Katie was likely the culprit as to why. She was a really sweet girl, and Rachel discovered that she wasn't overwhelmed by all of the energy that buzzed around the girl. Katie was a little much, but she was no more to handle than Rachel had likely been. Granted, Rachel had been a little more organized, but still.

Eventually, once the introductions were over, Shuester had the group perform their numbers and Rachel watched with Quinn and Beth sitting next to her. Katie had jumped out of her seat to offer it and Rachel almost feared the girl would take it home and use it as a base for a shrine.

The group was on their second number by the time Rachel noticed that one girl was sporting a slight bump. Immediately, she was startled, and wondered how the girl landed herself in that situation. She wondered how long the girl had known and what she intended to do with the child.

She thought back to her own past.

When it came to her high school friends, Rachel remembered losing all contact with them by the second semester of her first year of college. They'd texted her at first but, after a lack of replies, they'd given up. Rachel hadn't ever tried to reach out for them since.

She remembered that her college friends were much closer to her than were any others she'd had in her life, excluding David. She'd met most of their families and had even grown to care for them. More than one holiday had been spent at a friend's. It wasn't until her senior year that her life seemed to wither in her hands. She remembered the flower that her friend Olivia had given her as a gift for both her birthday and as a "Congratulations on getting the part." It had been in full bloom, white petals expanded to the fullest.

She'd hated it, but she'd smiled through it and had even managed to hug her friend with a polite "Thank you."

She remembered that very same flower lying on her kitchen table only a few days later, withered and an awful mix of yellow and brown. She remembered the week before that, when she had downed a few wine glasses to gather enough courage to sleep with the casting director's brother of some stupid musical. And the subsequent abortion she went through with. Mostly, she remembered that she did it alone, and by her own choice.

"You okay?" She felt breath on her ear and it startled her out of her thoughts. She realized then how warm her eyes were, and then felt the watery coat that had likely been her tell. Snapping her head to her left, she looked at Quinn and then looked down at Beth and suddenly wished she'd been as strong as the teenage version of Quinn had been. She wished she'd been as strong as that girl dancing before her, twirling around to the song just like everyone else. But, then she'd never have gotten the role, and she'd never have been in that hotel elevator, and the name Quinn would have meant nothing to her. So, maybe she hadn't had the strength to go through with the pregnancy, but she wasn't sure she could continue to regret it with that new outlook.

It was uncomfortable, realizing that.

For years, all she'd heard in her nightmares were childish laughs, giggles. She would dream of a tiny girl with long dark hair, crying because Rachel hadn't given her a chance. And she'd think of her own birth mother and wondered how life would have turned out if she'd decided she didn't want to have Rachel.

Because, now, she couldn't imagine some "What if?" perfect life. The "What if?" she'd dreamed of for years would never have included the two girls next to her.

Her throat felt tight and she actually thought about Quinn's question before finally being able to answer it truthfully for the first time in a while.

"Yeah. I'm fine." And she was because the pregnant girl kept on dancing, the smile never falling off her face.

Watching Rachel fall victim to the Glee Club's game of 50348 questions had been amusing, but Quinn had never been more happy to leave the choir room. Not only had they been there for almost three hours, but she'd instantly noticed a girl who reminded her of herself, at least when it came to the position she was in. The girl wasn't blonde, nor was she a cheerleader by the looks of it, but Quinn saw herself in those eyes. The ones that said "I'm not weak." The ones that allowed her to walk through the halls without letting the ridicule beat her down.

And they'd talked to her alone for a few moments after Quinn had noticed a change in Rachel. Hence why, the minute Beth begged to go see "Gwamma Lopez," Quinn was thankful she'd have a moment to talk to Rachel without having to worry about Beth. The one good thing that had come of Quinn's terrible childhood, besides Beth, was that she'd practically been adopted into the Lopez family. That meant that Beth had more than just her, in a way.

What Quinn had not been prepared for, however, was when Beth told them she wanted to stay over and Maribel had then insisted and she hadn't been able to talk her way out of it. And then Beth ran into the spare room, leaving only Santana's king sized bed up for grabs that Maribel then suggested she and Rachel share so neither would have to sleep on the couch.

She wondered when her five year old daughter had turned into a mini-Santana.

Rachel was not panicking. She was not.

She was a grown woman and she'd shared beds with other people before. She was not some teenager who had a crush on her best friend and feared that she'd snuggle up to her in her sleep.

Except, she was a snuggler. And she was slightly panicking.

She hadn't shared a bed with someone other than David in years, and she almost always cuddled into him every night. Whether they spooned, she laid on top of him, or just curled into his side, they were always touching in some way. She could sleep alone, but if someone was in her vicinity, she wasn't sure what would happen.

A tap on her shoulder released an unintentional cross between a yelp and a scream from her throat, and she turned around with her hand grasping her chest.

"Holy crap, you can't just scare me like that, Quinn!" She lowered her voice so as not to wake Beth, who she knew Quinn had just tucked in to bed.

"I called your name twice, you didn't answer." The blonde raised her eyebrow. "What's keeping your mind so busy?"

Rachel bit her lip, debating on what to say. Then again, the eyebrow usually got its way so she slumped down onto the bed and laid on her back with her feet touching the floor.

"That girl, Samantha."

"The pregnant one?" Quinn fell next to her but, instead of looking at the ceiling like Rachel, she kept her eyes on the brunette.

"Yeah." She turned to meet Quinn's gaze. "Was it hard for you to go through with it?"

They'd briefly discussed Quinn being pregnant with Beth before, but they hadn't delved into the subject too much. Rachel knew Quinn was kicked out of her house and that she'd lived with Santana until she graduated. She knew Maribel had immediately taken on the role of mother to Quinn, and treated her no differently that she did her own daughter. But she didn't really know.

Now Quinn looked at the ceiling and Rachel wondered how much time the blonde had spent in this room as a teenager. Then she wondered about Santana herself, having never met the woman before.

"I can best put it by saying it was a struggle. It certainly wasn't easy, and there was a lot of pain and nausea, but there was no moment where I actually regretted anything. Even when I sat crying, waiting for the stick to tell me my fate, I never wished to take it back, I don't think." She looked over at Rachel again. "I mean, I guess it worked out in the end, so there's nothing to regret." She was silent for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

Rachel closed her eyes and pictured it all. It was a movie in her head—a reel of film that she knew would eventually have to come to an end.

"Was ending it…prematurely ever a thought?"

Quinn blinked. "No. And not because I'm against abortion, but because I just…I'm not sure, actually. I just couldn't." Neither of the two spoke for a moment and Rachel watched as the film went on and on in her head. She wondered what her ending would look like.

"I was pregnant in college and I…" She opened her eyes to express to her friend what she couldn't say with words. The blonde turned on her side with the softest expression on her face that Rachel had ever seen her sport.

"Did you tell anyone?" Quinn asked, and Rachel slowly shook her head. She didn't look away from Quinn, instead searching her eyes for some kind of sign. The blonde looked sad, but it wasn't the pitying look she'd been expecting. It was a mix of a few things, she thought, but all that mattered was that there was not an ounce of judgment.

Deciding to take a risk, because she was starting to feel like she'd been a coward for too long, Rachel rolled over onto her shoulder and pushed Quinn forward by her collar bone. The blonde fell back, slightly surprised, but Rachel didn't give her time to think as she snuggled into her friend's side.

"Just you." She held her breath, waiting for a reaction. She could feel Quinn's heart beating sporadically, but she couldn't say what that meant. The blonde could be trying to figure out a way to push her off without being completely rude for all she knew. Just as she was about to pull away and apologize, saying something about the Berry genes, Quinn's arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

"I'm sorry," she said into chestnut hair, and Rachel wondered what Quinn was talking about until the blonde pulled away slightly. Rachel's heart dropped, because she could picture Quinn preparing her speech about how she just didn't feel right and—

And then Quinn was kissing her.

A few months later

Just when Rachel thought her day couldn't possibly get any better, it did.

Not only did it start with Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes—as requested by Beth—but Quinn had surprised her by telling her she'd taken the day off of work. She'd been early for her interview and so she'd had time to enjoy her perfectly hot coffee—from its cup, as it had not spilled all over her in some tragic accident. She'd given Josh his second raise and been thanked via a big hug from Nathan.

Traffic had been light and she was set to be just on time for her date with Quinn later that night. All she had to do was change into her dress that was in her room and she was set. While she still had her own apartment, and she basically lived in Quinn's, she hadn't been there in a while since her latest movie was closer to the hotel.

Her dads had called and wished her a happy birthday, announcing they'd be visiting tomorrow.

Walking towards the elevator, Rachel smiled as the view brought back the memories.

The doors opened, the elevator was empty, and she pressed her floor.

Right as the doors started to close, she watched as a blur ran through them. The metal doors stopped moving for a moment and then continued their journey.

"Rachel!" Beth cheered, hugging the brunette's legs.

"Beth? What are you doing here?" she asked, perplexed. Beth was supposed to be with Santana, who was watching her for the day.

"Mommy said we're surprising you." Rachel rolled her eyes playfully and wondered what on earth Quinn had planned for them. The blonde would never cease to amuse her.

They were somewhere between the fifth and sixth floor when the lights dimmed and the elevator came to a stop. Reaching for her phone, Rachel handed it to the girl and said, "Call you mother and tell her that if this was her plan, she's sleeping on the couch."