Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

Begin Again

Rachel Berry's return to Lima, Ohio, is sobering, to say the least.

It's not exactly what she expects out of her life, but she's only twenty-one, recently divorced and about to embark on one of the biggest roles of her entire career.

Apparently, a trip home to visit the parents she hasn't seen in a few... years is exactly what she needs. It's winter, and she's largely unrecognised all wrapped up in her coat, beanie and scarf as she navigates through the Columbus airport.

Rachel hasn't exactly told her fathers she's coming home. Their relationship has been strained since she directly defied them and got married to her high school boyfriend just days after graduating from high school.

It was a decision she made childishly, believing that love would be more than enough for she and Finn to make it work in New York. The reality of it was... mortifying, and they barely survived the first year without falling apart. Rachel naïvely thought, if they could just get through the rough patches - there were many - then everything would get better, and they would eventually prove everyone wrong.

Because, her parents weren't the only ones against the marriage. Many of their friends tried to talk sense into them. Kurt Hummel, especially, called them insane, didn't attend their wedding, and then ceased speaking to them. Rachel has no idea where he is, even though she's heard rumours of his being in New York.

Then, there was Quinn Fabray, who was exceptionally vocal about her displeasure at the idea of Finn and Rachel getting married. At the time, they were barely friends, and Rachel's decision to go through with her crazy plans sealed the deal for them. As far as Rachel is aware, Quinn could be a Princess in England, and she wouldn't know.

Mercedes Jones wasn't for the wedding, but she tried to support it. Tina wholeheartedly agreed that age has no bearing on love. Her support meant a lot at the time, but they've all since lost contact.

Rachel doesn't even speak to Finn anymore.

Irreconcilable differences and all that.

She hates that she's just become another statistic, but there's nothing to be done, now. She's going home to see her fathers, possibly apologise, and try to rebuild a relationship she allowed to break when she chose Finn Hudson over her good sense.

God.

Rachel hires a car from the airport, and then makes the two-hour drive towards Lima. She can't recall ever actually making this particular drive herself, but there's something oddly familiar about it. It's as if she knows she's in Ohio, her home state, and everything that's been so out of control in her life is starting to settle.

Lima hasn't changed at all. In the three and a half plus years she's been away, very little looks different, and there's something particularly comforting about that truth. She vaguely wonders how much her fathers have changed. If they've aged. Do they have different hairstyles? Are they greyer?

So many questions.

It's odd for her pulling up to the house in which she grew up. It's her home, she knows, but she suddenly feels like a stranger. The outside is decorated for the upcoming Christmas, and she absently wonders what her Daddy had to do to convince her Dad to put up all the lights and the wreath on the front door.

What makes her feel the most like a visitor is that she has to knock on the front door. Her heart starts to beat far too fast as she waits for someone to answer the door, and she doubts it's going to subside any time soon.

In fact, it gets infinitely worse when the door opens... to reveal none other than Quinn Fabray, dressed in sweatpants, a Yale sweatshirt, thick socks and wearing glasses.

Quinn looks equally startled to see her, which lets Rachel know she's not actually imagining what's in front of her.

Quinn Fabray is in her house.

Wait.

Why is Quinn Fabray in her house?

Before either of them can say anything, another voice asks, "Quinn, Sweetheart, who's at the door?"

Quinn can barely bring herself to respond, and her silence prompts Hiram to come to the door to investigate for himself.

"Are they carollers again?" Hiram asks as he approaches, reaching out to press a comforting hand to the small of Quinn's back. "You can send them away, you know? We talked about this."

"H," Quinn calmly says. "Look."

And, Hiram does. His eyes widen as he lets out a gasp, clearly caught off guard by the sight in front of him. Of all the things he was expecting of this day, this is the absolute last one.

"Rachel," Hiram says, blinking repeatedly. "What - what - you're here." He shakes his head, as if trying to clear it. "Is everything okay? Are you okay? Did something happen?"

Rachel is suitably thrown, and she has no idea what to say in this moment.

Quinn clears her throat. "Uh, why don't you come inside?" she suggests. "It's cold out there."

It's automatic, as Rachel steps forward. She's left her suitcase in the car, because she didn't know what to expect of this reunion, and she's suddenly glad for it.

Jesus.

Quinn Fabray is in her house, with her father, and it all seems so normal to them. Why? Why on Earth is she here?

Hiram looks uncertain for a moment, but he eventually pulls his daughter into a warm embrace. They might not have talked in years, but she's still his child and he's missed her.

Quinn closes the door, and then leads the way into the living room. Rachel can't shake her unease at the way Quinn just seems so comfortable, and she can't help staring at the way Quinn moves towards the end of the three-seater couch and picks up a novel she was obviously reading prior to Rachel's arrival.

Quinn hesitates. "Should I make tea?" she asks, her eyes on Hiram. "I'm going to make tea." With that, she disappears from the living room, leaving Hiram and Rachel alone to exist in their awkward moment.

"Do you want to sit?" Hiram asks.

Rachel drops into the nearest chair, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. "Dad," she breathes. "What's going on here? Why is Quinn here? Where's Daddy?"

Hiram takes his time responding. "Your father's at work," he finally says. "It's his last day before he takes leave for the holidays." He presses his lips together. "We didn't know you were coming."

"I can see that," Rachel mutters under her breath.

Hiram's eyes narrow slightly. "What exactly are you doing here, Rachel?" he asks. "This is unexpected."

"Talking about things that are unexpected," she says; "why did Quinn answer the door?"

Hiram breathes out slowly, knowing that Rachel is just going to keep asking until she receives an answer. He just doesn't know what to say to her without... giving Quinn away.

Thankfully, Quinn chooses that moment to re-enter the living room, a tray in hand and a look of concentration on her face. Both Hiram and Rachel just watch in slight wonder as Quinn sets the tray on the coffee table.

Rachel can't even register her surprise at the fact Quinn seems to remember - even know - how she takes her tea. Quinn serves both her and Hiram, and then lifts her own cup and settles at the end of the couch Hiram is occupying.

Awkward silence settles over them, and it stretches on for almost three minutes before Quinn finally speaks.

"I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing here," she starts; "so, you should just know that I actually live here."

"What?"

Hiram flinches at the sharpness of Rachel's tone, but Quinn looks unruffled. It's something people have always admired about her - and feared about her.

Quinn clears her throat. "Well, when I'm not at school, that is," she adds. "It's Winter Break. I'm home for the holidays."

Rachel blinks repeatedly. Home? "But, why?"

Quinn looks at Hiram, and then looks at Rachel. "I didn't really have anywhere else to go," she says, shrugging slightly. She bites the inside of her cheek. "I kind of got kicked out again."

"What?"

Quinn shakes her head. "I'd rather not get into it," she says, looking uncomfortable.

"No, I want to know," Rachel presses, suddenly irritated. "What did you do this time?" She turns accusing eyes on her father. "How long was I gone before you decided to replace me with the girl who made my life a living hell?"

Hiram frowns. "Rachel," he says, and his voice is surprisingly stern. "I won't have you speaking to me or Quinn like that, particularly not in this house."

Rachel folds her arms across her chest, suddenly aware she's acting like a child. This is just the last thing she expected to come home to, and she really doesn't know what to make of it.

Quinn licks her lips. "Well, uh, I'm going to go upstairs," she says. "You two obviously have a few things to talk about."

Rachel glares at her. "Did you take over my room, too?" she snaps. "My fathers weren't enough?"

"Rachel," Hiram reprimands.

Quinn arches an eyebrow at the brunette. "Your room is exactly the way you left it," she says, sounding entirely too calm. "The only thing I do is open the window from time to time for some fresh air. It has been more than three years since you've been in it, has it not?"

And, then, she walks out of the living room.

Rachel stares at Hiram. "I don't understand."

"Obviously," he says. "Quinn lives here. She has for a while now. She's a part of our family."

"How does that even happen?"

"She had nowhere else to go," Hiram says.

"What about Santana? Brittany? Even Noah?" she questions, because this is the one thing on which she can focus without feeling overwhelmed. "Why our house? God, did she come here asking to live with you? And, why on Earth was she kicked out again? Was she pregnant again?"

Hiram sighs. "Rachel, please," she says. "Only Quinn can tell you about it, which may or may not happen with the way you're acting."

"Dad," she says. "You can't exactly blame me here. You have to realise how weird this is for me. Quinn Fabray and I... did not get along. Especially near the end there. Why would she pick you to live with?"

"She didn't pick us," Hiram says tiredly. "In fact, she picked nobody. Your father invited her to have dinner with us, and then she spent the night, and she just never left. It's as simple as that."

"There's nothing simple about that," Rachel argues. "When did this even happen?"

"Why does it matter?"

"I just want to know how desperate you were for a child to parent after I left," Rachel almost snaps.

Hiram glares at her. "Well," he says. "If you're so interested, you should know she came to live with us the summer after you all graduated from high school. She had nobody, and, yes, I'll be the first to admit it was nice to be needed again. It was nice to have someone listen and look up to me as an actual parent. To have respect again."

Rachel clenches her jaw.

Hiram shakes his head. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to you attempt to dissect my relationship with Quinn, or try to degrade the fact we've built a little family for ourselves here. You made your choices, and so did we, so why exactly are you here, Rachel? Where is Finn?"

Rachel winces slightly, and she really doesn't know how to answer that question, because she actually doesn't know where Finn is. She could probably make an educated guess, but they've been separated for a long while now, and signing the divorce papers was merely a formality.

For the most part, Rachel was under the impression Finn returned to Lima, but that doesn't seem to be the case, if her father doesn't know.

"Rachel?" Hiram prompts.

She sighs. "I don't know where he is," she says. "We're not exactly on speaking terms at the moment."

Hiram's eyebrows rise. "Oh?"

"Don't act so surprised, Dad," she says, scowling slightly. "You predicted it wouldn't work, so you can be happy you were proven right."

Hiram shakes his head. "Right, of course, I'm happy about this," he says, and his sarcasm is paramount. "I've been praying for my daughter's relationship to fall to pieces, just to have her come crawling back with her tail between her legs. That's exactly what I wanted."

Rachel frowns, because the sarcasm seems to have bled out of his tone. "That's not why I'm here," she automatically says.

Hiram looks interested. "Then, why exactly are you here?"

"I'm starting a show in New York," she says, choosing not to get into the details. "I need to get a few things from my room to help me prepare."

Hiram frowns as he nods, and then waves a dismissive hand. "Well, like Quinn said, your room hasn't been touched since you left, so you should find whatever you're looking for exactly where you left it."

Rachel accepts the dismissal, and then gets up and heads towards the stairs. Some things are different in the house, and she's slightly thrown by the almost lighter touches in the decor. There are even a selection of new pictures in frames, and she can't quite explain her feelings on the fact Quinn exists in this house in so many ways.

There are lone pictures of the blonde, and others with her and Rachel's fathers, all of them wearing the kinds of smiles that indicate Rachel is far from their minds. She can't shake the feeling she's been replaced, and it makes something nasty settle in her gut.

With a heavy sigh, she climbs the stairs, one destination in mind.

Only, to get to what is her bedroom, she has to pass by the guest room, and the door is open enough to reveal Quinn Fabray lounging on the bed, a book propped up in front of her. She looks so relaxed and at home, and it makes Rachel irrationally angry.

This is supposed to be Rachel's safe place, away from all the hurt and confusion that comes with Quinn Fabray, and now the blonde is actually inside that safety bubble.

Rachel hates it.

"What are you really doing here?" Rachel's mouth asks before she can stop it, and Quinn startles slightly.

"Excuse me?"

Rachel moves to stand in the doorway, trying not to focus on how good Quinn actually looks just reclining there. "Why did you pick my family?"

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Do you actually think I set out to... infiltrate your family?"

"How else did you end up here?"

Quinn runs her tongue over her teeth as she sits up and stares impassively at Rachel. "Well, Rachel, if you must know, I actually ran into your father in the Emergency Room after my own beat the shit out of me when I told him I was gay."

Rachel's eyes widen.

"I was living in my car, because I couldn't really show up at a motel or at someone's house looking like crap, so I thought I could wait it out. But, I couldn't. I was in too much pain, and I couldn't seem to catch my breath, so I had to go in, and LeRoy was there, and he was so kind and exactly the way a father is supposed to be.

"He must have figured out what happened, because he invited me over for dinner when I was discharged, and they were so kind and caring, and I ended up telling them what really happened, and they invited me to stay until I managed to figure things out. One night turned into two, and then a week passed, and we found ourselves in this neat little routine, and my leaving just wasn't brought up again.

"When I was healed up, I found a job. I did chores and I cooked, and I felt as if I was in an actual home for the first time in my life, and why would I ever want to give that up? They had all this love and care to give, both of them nursing broken hearts, and I had this attention to give. We just... fit. It was easy, and they helped me come to terms with whom I truly am, and gave me this safe space to talk about and explore all my repressed feelings.

"When the summer ended, they accompanied me to Yale, embarrassed the heck out of me, and even deigned to give me pocket money when I assured them I had access to my Trust Fund. Apparently, it's part of the principle. They can be idiots about it, but I love them. I love them, Rachel, and they're honestly the greatest people I've ever known, and I will never apologise for what we have here, even if you don't approve of it."

The silence that follows is long and hard, and the first thing Rachel thinks to say to break it is honestly the worst thing imaginable.

"You're actually gay?"

Quinn scoffs, and then gets up from the bed, abandoning her book. "Yip, Rachel," she says, as she heads towards the door, automatically pushing past the brunette. "I'm actually gay. Surprising, isn't it?"

Rachel doesn't get a chance to reply, because Quinn disappears from sight, heading down the stairs in complete silence. She can just watch in bewilderment as the reality of what Quinn's just told her starts to sink in.

Wait.

What?

Rachel shakes her head in an attempt to clear it, but it doesn't really work. As if on autopilot, she walks further down the hallway towards her own bedroom. The door is closed, and she opens it to reveal a room that is exactly how she remembers it.

Her eyes sweep across the room, taking in everything her eighteen-year-old self left behind, her eyes clouded by dreams of a timeless love and inevitable career.

God, she was so naïve.

She was just a child.

She's still just a child, if the way she's acting is anything to go on.

With a sigh, she moves towards her bed and immediately drops to her knees, reaching under the bed for a very particular box. As far as she knows, nobody is aware it exists, and she's flooded with relief when she drags it out and finds everything as she left it.

It's personal.

It has trinkets she's saved, and it has every single one of her journals. She needs them, to help her get into the mindset of her younger self. Her new role is going to involve unrequited love, and Rachel is very well-versed in such a thing.

For various people, and at various times in her life.

Others have stuck, and others haven't.

It's really helping nobody for Rachel to learn that Quinn actually likes girls.

Even randomly picking out a high school journal from her junior year reveals that Rachel was and has always been confused about far too many things in her life.

She reasons she's always going to be, particularly with the way her life is currently going.

Rachel puts the journal away before she can get caught up in the drama of her teenage woes. It all felt like the end of the world back then, but hindsight is really a powerful force.

The end of the world is out of reach, but she imagines it's closer than she thinks. Leaving the journals as they are, Rachel looks around the room with aged eyes. She feels as if she's experienced far too much life in her short twenty-one years, and she can see things as they are, now.

Well, when she's not clouded with emotion, that is.

The room is startlingly neat, everything still in place. At first look, at least. There are a few things that are different. There's a picture frame of a few of the New Directions missing from her nightstand, and one of her stuffed animals - a kangaroo named Mo - is also suspiciously absent.

They're unimportant, she knows, but she can't help being curious. Where could they be?

The longer she spends in here, the more uncomfortable she feels. It's a stranger's room. This isn't her home.

It belongs to her fathers. And to Quinn.

She shudders at the thought, and then sighs. There's nothing she can realistically do about it, so she's not going to try. All she wanted was to understand, and she thinks she's got far more than she bargained for.

In fact, she's quite certain Quinn wouldn't have divulged any information, but now she has an abundance of it, and she doesn't even know where to begin to unpack it.

Quinn is gay.

Quinn came out.

Quinn got kicked out.

Quinn came to live here.

Quinn is happy and settled.

Rachel can't quite wrap her head around the fact that Quinn Fabray is actually a part of her fathers' family. It seems so unreal, particularly with the way they left each other at graduation.

Quinn practically begged Rachel to reconsider getting married. She pulled out all the stops, citing the accident and saying it had to be a sign.

A sign that Quinn was never meant to be there in the first place, is what Rachel ended up screaming at her, and Quinn eventually had to concede, looking about as heartbroken and defeated as Rachel has ever seen her. Rachel has never managed to forget Quinn's parting words. They're practically burned into her brain, basically taunting her now.

One day, you're going to realise you're settling, and I hope the damage you're doing choosing him isn't irreparable. There are other people who love you in this world... far more than Finn Hudson ever will.

At the time, Rachel was certain Quinn was talking about her fathers, but now she's not so sure. With this revelation about her sexuality, Quinn could have been talking about herself, right? Maybe.

It's unlikely.

Rachel shakes her head, trying to clear it. Those are the last thoughts she needs to be having, because there are certain feelings of her own that really don't need to be reawakened.

God, she needs to get out of here.

Now.

She can't stay here.

Not with Quinn here.

It's just not going to work.

It's as simple as that.

Rachel gathers her box, casts one last look around the room, and then starts to head out. It doesn't feel as permanent as it did the last time she walked out of this room, but she's different and everything is different.

She heads down the stairs slowly and silently, unsure what she's going to be walking into. She can hear voices in the kitchen, and she sets the box on the floor in the entrance hall before moving towards the sounds.

"I think I can handle chopping mushrooms, Quinn," Hiram says, and he sounds playfully annoyed.

"Not as thin as I want them," Quinn says. "Do the carrots for the slaw instead."

"As in grate them?"

"Sure."

Hiram chuckles. "You're something else," he comments. "No wonder that Sadie has such a massive crush on you."

Quinn gasps, and Rachel feels something awful twist in her chest. "H, I already told you nothing is going on."

"But you want it to," Hiram teases right back.

Quinn is silent for a moment. "I don't actually know," she finally admits. "She reminds me too much of Anne-Marie, and I vowed to stay away from that kind of crazy the second time I found her asleep in my bed."

"She really was off her rocker, wasn't she?"

"What can I say?" Quinn quips. "Crazy attracts crazy."

Hiram laughs. "I won't even deny that. You eat your popcorn with M&Ms. You're certifiably insane."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it."

"I'm staying away from that."

Quinn sighs. "Sadie is quite pretty, though," she says. "I might consider it when I get back. She might be different after Winter Break."

"Why's that?"

"The crazy really tends to come out around exam time, as you know," she says. "They're a lot calmer at the start of the semester."

Hiram laughs. "Are you speaking from experience?"

"As in, do I get a little manic when I'm writing Finals?"

Hiram whistles. "You're right. Stupid question." There's the sound of something being grated. "I remember when you called in a panic last year, claiming you didn't remember how to spell nucleus. Lee and I had a right chuckle about it after he finally managed to get you calm."

"I see how it is," Quinn grumbles.

"Rachel used to have all these little anxiety attacks about the strangest things," Hiram says, and his voice softens. "She's always been so punctual, and Lee is anything but, so she used to get all overworked and overwhelmed whenever we were running late."

"Are you just trying to make 'she threw tantrums' sound polite?"

Hiram laughs softly. "Those are the things I miss about her, you know? The weird, random, little things that you don't think you're going to miss until they're just gone."

Quinn hums. "She's here, you know?" she says, and Rachel panics that she's been spotted. "She's upstairs right now. She came home, even if it's under circumstances that, well, none of us knows. But, she's here, and, if she's willing, I think you can get that back."

Hiram is silent.

"Are you willing?" Quinn asks.

"I - I don't know," Hiram admits. "It wasn't very... pretty when she left, you know that. She said things; we said things, and I don't know if I've ever really forgiven her for choosing him over us." He sighs. "Is that unfair of me?"

Quinn doesn't respond.

"I can acknowledge we didn't handle the situation properly," Hiram says. "We should have been honest from the start, the way you were. We were just so worried that if we told her we were against it, she would go ahead without us in the end, and that's what ended up happening after all."

"I don't know what to tell you."

"That's a first."

Quinn laughs this soft laugh that pulls at Rachel's heartstrings. "I told you that I stopped telling people what to do after... Rachel," she says. "Nobody listens to me, anyway."

"She would have listened if you - "

"H."

Hiram sighs. "You know I'm right."

"Well, we're all three years too late, don't you think?"

"Aren't you the one who just said she's here?"

Quinn sighs. "She's your daughter."

"And, so are you."

Rachel closes her eyes. She has no idea what to make of that truth, and she just imagines their embrace in the silence. It's all too much, and she has the sudden urge to leave. She has to get out; away from here.

Away from these people.

Rachel takes a step back, and then another, before she turns around and heads for the front door. Her heart is beating too fast, and this feels as if she's walked into someone else's life. She stumbles towards her box, gathers it, and then heads to the door.

What happens next would be funny if Rachel weren't struggling to catch her breath. She gets to the door just as it opens, and she comes face-to-face with none other than LeRoy Berry.

"Oh," is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, his eyes widening in surprise.

Rachel steps back, utterly caught off guard. "Daddy?"

LeRoy blinks repeatedly. "Rachel," he says in mild disbelief. "You're here."

"I am," Rachel says, suddenly feeling two feet tall. Her father has always been a large man, tall and imposing, and Rachel feels as if she's seeing him for the first time.

LeRoy looks past her at where Quinn and Hiram have emerged from the kitchen, both of them looking perplexed by the events unfolding in front of them. "What is going on here?" LeRoy asks.

Hiram steps towards him. "Nothing, really," he says. "But, you know, Rachel is here. It's cold outside. Quinn and I are making dinner."

Quinn clears her throat.

Hiram rolls his eyes. "Well, Quinn is making dinner, and I'm trying not to cut myself."

"Again," Quinn and LeRoy say in unison.

Hiram huffs. "I don't have to put up with this abuse."

LeRoy just chuckles, absently kissing the top of his head. "So, that's quite the evening, it seems," he says. "Is Rachel supposed to be staying for this elusive dinner, because it looks to me that she's on her way out?"

All eyes turn towards Rachel, and she has to force herself not to shrink back. "Uh, well, I was going to put this box in the car," she says, frowning slightly. "It's, uh, really what I came for."

"Hmm," LeRoy sounds; "so, you're not staying for dinner then?"

Rachel can't bring herself to look any of them in the eye. "I - I - "

"It's vegan," Quinn says.

"I'm no longer a vegan."

Quinn's face falls slightly. "Oh." She shrugs. "Well, H still is, and we make a point of eating a solely vegan meal at least three times a week."

Rachel drops her gaze to the box in her hands. "These are my journals," she says. "I - I need them for research. I'm - I'm in a show, actually."

Nobody seems to know what to say to her.

"That's great, Rachel," Hiram finally says, smiling and reacting the way he wishes he'd been able to earlier. "What kind of show is it?"

Rachel watches as Quinn moves towards LeRoy and takes his briefcase and coat, carefully closing the door behind him. It's fascinating to see the way his features soften when Quinn lifts herself onto her toes and kisses his cheek in greeting.

Rachel can't bring herself to look at them, and she shifts her gaze to Hiram. He's smiling sadly at her, and she can only wonder what her own face must look like to all of them. She doesn't know how to feel about watching Quinn Fabray be a daughter to her fathers, seemingly having taken her place.

It's unsettling, and she's worried she's going to end up saying something she's going to regret with regards to all of this happening in front of her. It's as if she's watching some show playing out, and she's just part of the audience.

She could be invisible for all she knows.

"What kind of show is it?" Hiram asks again.

Rachel blinks. "Uh, it's just this off-Broadway show," she says, somewhat distractedly. She's so caught off guard by the domesticity of Quinn and her fathers, and she doesn't know what to do about it. She's been cast in a role of a lifetime, especially so young, and she can't even bring herself to brag about it.

Because, even though she won't admit it to anyone, the only reason she even managed to get the part is because Finn is no longer in her life. She dedicated so much time and effort to her craft the second she was allowed the freedom of singledom, and now she's finally on her way to reaching the heights of success she's always dreamed for herself.

Without Finn.

Without anyone.

For so long, she wasn't sure she would be able to achieve anything worth achieving without some companionship. She was so focused on the plan she set out for herself that she didn't see any other way. It was Finn, and she really just couldn't see past him.

Now, she's seeing clearly for the first time since she was fifteen years old.

Well, as clearly as she can, given what she's just walked into.

"That's fantastic," Hiram says. "Is it anything we know? Or something new?"

Rachel feels caught. She's uncertain if she's supposed to let this stilted conversation keep going, or if it would just be doing them all a favour to take her leave her right now.

"Why don't we head to the kitchen?" Quinn suggests. "Dinner's almost ready."

Rachel registers relief, but she casts a dark look at the blonde, which Quinn simply ignores. Hiram frowns at her, and LeRoy returns her look with a dark one of his own. She has to have learned it from someone.

Somehow, the four of them manage to get settled at the kitchen table with a surprisingly tasty vegan dinner. Rachel tells Hiram about her upcoming show, carefully describing the audition process and how she came to get the part. She tries not to sound too excited about it, but she is.

LeRoy mentions a few things about work, and Quinn asks for details from the emergency room, which makes Rachel curious. Quinn almost seems too interested, and Rachel desperately wants to ask, but she holds her tongue.

"How is school?" LeRoy eventually asks Rachel.

She visibly hesitates. "It's... fine," she says, unable to look any of them in the eye.

LeRoy shifts in his seat. "You are still in school, aren't you?" he asks, and he sounds as if he already knows the answer.

Rachel can't bring herself to respond.

"Rachel," LeRoy says, and it's obvious he's losing his patience. "Tell me you're still in school."

She says nothing.

"Why wouldn't you be?" he asks, and they've all stopped eating. "There was more than enough money in your college fund for the full four years, and I don't for a second believe you could have flunked out." There's a certain edge to his voice that none of them has heard in years. Not since the night Rachel stormed out and didn't look back.

Quinn shifts uncomfortably in her seat, suddenly wishing she weren't sitting where she currently is.

Rachel resists the urge to squirm. "Daddy," she starts quietly.

"What happened?" he asks.

Rachel isn't sure how to explain. The three people in front of her are some of the ones who were the most against the marriage, and she doesn't think she can handle them knowing just how right they were. She and Finn were supposed to go to New York and make it, but they didn't.

They failed.

Epically.

Rachel clears her throat. "I'd much rather not discuss this in front of - "

The sound of Quinn's chair scraping against the floor interrupts her. "That's perfectly fine," she says. "You three probably have so much to talk about, anyway. I'm just going to go upstairs."

Rachel just stares at her, because that isn't what she wanted to happen. Quinn is supposed to stay, so that they don't have to talk about it. What is she doing?

Quinn grabs her glass of wine and phone from the table. "H, come call me when it's time to clean up," she says, and then she disappears from the room, leaving daughter and fathers to hash it out in relative privacy.

Both Hiram and LeRoy look at her, expectant, once Quinn is completely out of sight. "Tell us what happened."

So, with a heavy, defeated sigh, Rachel does. She had a plan at first. They had a budget. They were going to go to New York, and they were going to get jobs, and she was going to go to school, and it was all going to work out.

Only, living in New York proved to be more difficult than she anticipated. The rent was much too high, and they weren't making nearly enough money to survive month-to-month, so she made the mistake of dipping into the college fund to tide them over a handful of times, and then Finn just never stopped.

Then they just couldn't do it anymore, and they separated and, when Rachel took a catalogue of what was left, she was forced into making a difficult decision, choosing to forego payments to NYADA, in favour of getting out of a toxic marriage. The account was always hers, and it took a very expensive lawyer to make sure she ended up with all that was left.

She's working full-time now, making good money, and she's not sure she'll ever go back to school at this point. There's no need for it, is there?

She doesn't go into too much detail about how her marriage fell apart, because she really doesn't need to hear an 'I told you so,' and she's self-reflected enough over the last few months to recognise it was all a really big mistake.

She has the role of a lifetime coming up, an off-Broadway lead that's getting significant buzz, and she's not going to let Finn Hudson take anything more from her.

When she's done, her fathers remain silent. She sits uncomfortably, fidgeting in her seat like a child. She feels like a child in this moment.

LeRoy clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Are you staying the night?"

Rachel pauses, definitely not expecting that to be the first thing he says. "Uh... yes?"

"Good," he says. "We need some time to digest this, and then we'll talk more tomorrow."

Rachel can hear the dismissal, and she willingly takes it. She gets to her feet and leaves the kitchen, heading towards the front door. She needs to get her suitcase, and she also needs a moment to catch her breath.

The air is cold, and she almost revels in it. This isn't what she expected of her return home, and she can't quite put a finger on it, regarding her feelings. It would be so easy, she thinks, to get into her car and just go.

She could, but she's not sure she wants to.

So, she just retrieves her suitcase, and then goes back into the house. As she walks past the living room towards the stairs, Hiram calls out to her.

"While you're up there, do you think you could send Quinn down? I think she promised to help with cleanup."

Rachel just blinks, and then nods. She almost forgot about Quinn, but it's all she thinks about as she makes her way up the stairs. Quinn is here, in her house, and she lives here.

She's more her fathers' daughter than she is.

Again, Quinn's door is open, and Rachel can hear that she's talking to someone on the phone. There's a certain lightness to her voice that makes Rachel wonder who's on the other end of the line.

"No, I can't," Quinn says, humming. "I know I said I would, but some things have come up." She laughs softly. "No, no, just something. It's not that important. I'm sure I'll see you before I leave, though. You better not show up here like you did the last time. You're lucky Lee didn't shoot you. You're not sneaky at all."

Quinn's laughter is soft, breathy, and Rachel knows she shouldn't be eavesdropping. Especially when said girl refers to her as something unimportant, that's just come up. It disappoints and angers her, and she wishes Quinn wasn't here, because she's just making everything that bit more difficult.

"You're just looking to get lucky again, aren't you?" Quinn asks, and Rachel closes her eyes. "I keep telling you I'm not interested. I mean it. Whatever."

Rachel sucks in a breath, and then steps towards the door, quickly lifting her hand to knock on the slightly-ajar door.

"Hey, San," Quinn immediately says, and Rachel suddenly feels sick. Quinn and Santana? No. God, no. "I have to go, okay? I'll call you later." There's the sound of a thump, shuffling, a breathy sigh, and then the door opens fully, revealing a slightly rumpled Quinn Fabray with flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

Quinn looks momentarily thrown, as if she forgot about Rachel, as well. "Hey," she says. "I see you survived."

Rachel nods tightly. "My Dad is calling you."

"Oh, okay," Quinn says, looking slightly unsure. "Is, uh, that's Hiram, right?"

"Right."

Quinn gives her a curious look, and then sighs. She steps around her, heading towards the stairs, where she spots Rachel's suitcase. "Oh, cool, you're staying," she says. "Do you want me to get you some fresh sheets?"

Rachel's jaw tenses. "I think I'm capable of finding the linen closet in my own house, thank you very much."

Quinn regards her carefully, slightly amusedly, and then says, "Of course," before she disappears down the stairs.

Rachel stares after her for a moment, and then drags her suitcase to her bedroom. It feels even more foreign to her the second time around, but she's sure she's going to be able to settle.

She sets her suitcase on her desk. Her closet is rather bare, just with a few of the clothes she left behind, some towels and a few of her stuffed animals. She spends the next few minutes exploring thoroughly, and then she goes in search of some fresh linen.

She knows where they're kept, except that it becomes increasingly clear to her, once she's opened said closet in the hallway, that the linen has moved. She thinks back to Quinn's parting look, and she understands it far better, now. With a huff, she searches all the known closets in the upstairs and, not finding anything, she knows she's going to have to concede to going downstairs and asking.

God.

Why is this even a thing?

Sucking it up as best she can, she heads downstairs and follows the voices to the kitchen. She can hear soft music playing, and then there are a few bars of singing from more than one person.

"I think you're sharp," Hiram says.

Quinn laughs. "Funny," she says. "Your daughter seems to agree with you."

"You've definitely improved, though," Hiram says. "I think spending all that time trying to get Gina to agree to date you paid off."

Quinn fakes a laugh. "Well, aren't you a comedian?"

"Sweetheart, I tried to tell you she was straight," LeRoy says, and then yelps, as if Quinn has thrown something at him. "Any sexually fluid girl who would say no to having Quinn Fabray actively pursuing her has to be. It's as simple as that."

"Well, I got free vocal lessons out of it, so I'm not complaining."

Hiram laughs. "Me thinks you have a type, Quinn."

"Shut up, H."

And, Hiram does.

Rachel waits another minute, and then enters the kitchen, unsurprised to find LeRoy sitting and reading at the kitchen table, and Quinn and Hiram quietly drying the washed dishes. They all stop what they're doing and look at her.

"Uh," she starts, and then finds her eyes drifting to the end of the kitchen table where a pile of linen sits, perfectly folded. "Oh." She looks at Quinn, who is meeting her gaze as steadily as she can.

Hiram follows her gaze when it settles on the linen again. "Oh, Quinn thought you might need some fresh linen," he says. "We moved the linen closet downstairs after the pipe burst in the guest bathroom." He shoots a look at Quinn.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Don't even start on that," she says. "It wasn't my fault."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

"Our ruined carpet begs to differ."

Quinn just shakes her head, exasperated. She looks at Rachel. "I hope that's okay," she says, and then looks as if she's going to add more, but decides against it. She turns away, and Rachel hates that she feels the need to apologise. She doesn't do apologies anymore. Not since she became a New Yorker.

New York has hardened her in so many ways; ways she can't even begin to explain. Being married to Finn has changed her in others, and she's sure they barely recognise her in this moment.

"Thank you," is what she ends up saying, and then proceeds to lift the linen into her arms and disappear from the kitchen without another word. Her heart is beating a little too fast for her liking, and she can't even be sure why. She feels awkward and childish, and there's a strong part of her that just knows it's all to do with Quinn, for whatever reason.

Almost stubbornly, Rachel stays upstairs, slowly sorting out her room, until both her fathers come to bid her goodnight. It's odd for them all, because it's obvious a lot has changed. They haven't done this in years, and they're all such different people.

But, they power through it, and then they disappear into their bedroom. Rachel remains standing in her doorway, and she can't help but wonder where Quinn is. She can't say she expects the girl to bid her goodnight - that's just ridiculous - but there's still a part of the teenage Rachel that may or may not still be holding onto something when it comes to Quinn Fabray.

Who is here.

In her house.

With a sigh, Rachel heads down the stairs to fetch a glass of water, if only to give herself something to do. She's slightly restless, and she isn't yet used to the quiet of Lima, when New York is constantly bustling.

The house feels so different, and she can't say she particularly likes it. She doesn't want to dwell, because she's going to be gone soon, and then what?

With a sigh, she gathers her glass and then heads back upstairs, pausing when she hears the sound of running water coming from behind the open door of the guest bathroom.

Rachel moves towards it, already knowing she's going to see a particular blonde. Quinn is at the basin, brushing her teeth, and she immediately notices a presence in the doorway, startling slightly.

Rachel waits four beats of her heart, watching as Quinn returns her gaze to her own expression reflecting back at her in the mirror above the sink.

One two three four.

"Quinn?"

Said blonde blinks at her, and then spits the last of her toothpaste into the basin before rinsing her mouth. "What's up?" she eventually says, wiping at her lips with a small towel.

"I - uh - "

Quinn arches an eyebrow expectantly, and Rachel is catapulted to more than three years earlier when that look was patent Quinn Fabray. "Spit it out, Berry."

Rachel is almost relieved by this interaction. It's what she remembers of her relationship with Quinn, from before. "Just wanted to wish you goodnight," she eventually says.

"Oh?"

"Goodnight, Quinn."

Quinn looks caught off guard, but her features soften a moment later. "Goodnight, Rachel."

Her heart stutters at the sound of her name from Quinn's mouth, and this is just ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous.

They stare at each other for a slice of forever, and then Rachel sucks in a sharp breath, turns quickly and disappears from sight.

She's sure she feels Quinn's eyes following her the entire way to her bedroom.

Rachel doesn't expect to find anyone else awake at 06h00 the next morning, so it's a surprise to walk into the kitchen and find Quinn Fabray sipping at a bottle of water, and looking dressed for a run.

"Oh."

Quinn glances at her, noting her own workout gear. "Morning," she says.

"Hey."

Quinn sips more of her water, before grabbing a banana and starting to leave the kitchen. There are so many things they could say to each other, but Quinn avoids it, given the entire linen incident.

But, Rachel has a question. "Quinn?"

Quinn pauses.

"I - uh - do you know what happened to my elliptical?"

Quinn looks confused for a moment, and then smiles softly. "It's in the basement," she says. "We, um, kind of made a makeshift gym when the results of H's medical last year said he was pre-diabetic."

Rachel's eyes widen.

"It turns out vegans have no qualms about consuming sugar," Quinn says, almost forgetting who she's talking to. When she catches herself, her soft smile fades. "It's in the basement," she finishes.

"Oh, okay," Rachel says. "Thank you."

"Sure thing," Quinn murmurs, and then disappears from sight. They seem to be making a habit of that.

Rachel listens for where she goes, and she's unsurprised when the front door opens and closes. It could have been more awkward, she reasons, so she'll take it. She grabs her own bottle of water, and then heads downstairs to the basement.

She's not sure what she's expecting. She suspects there will be a significant change, and she's not wrong about that. It's a proper gym, equipped with various machines and weights. She feels out of place for a full minute before she locates her old elliptical in the corner, and something settles in her gut.

Not everything has changed.

Rachel wastes little time getting reacquainted, setting the cycle for one long, hard hour. She slips in her earphones, pumps up the music, and then gets to work.

She doesn't expect anyone to come down here, so she's suitably caught off guard when Quinn appears on the stairs a little over a half hour later. She's flushed and sweaty, panting as she traipses down into the basement, and Rachel can barely look at her.

"Hey," Quinn's mouth says, but Rachel can't hear her over the music in her ears. Quinn makes a little gesture at the little matted area, as if letting Rachel know why she's there, and then promptly ignores Rachel's presence completely.

Rachel is unable to do the same. Quinn pulls off her jacket to reveal a neon green sports bra that showcases abs that Rachel wasn't sure could exist. Quinn claimed to have lost her definition after giving birth, but she obviously hasn't, and she does sit-ups and push-ups and all sorts of core exercises that Rachel can't ignore. She'd have to be some kind of machine not to stare at the muscles flexing.

She doesn't even have to be interested in girls to know Quinn Fabray is the most gorgeous creature she's ever come across. It's not as if Rachel hasn't encountered beautiful women before - she does live in New York, after all - but none of them hold a candle to Quinn, who wears her beauty and grace so effortlessly, it's actually annoying.

Rachel realises she's staring when Quinn stops moving and says, "You know, you could take a picture; it'll last longer."

Rachel scowls, almost automatically, but she's mortified at being caught. "You're very... fit," she says, and then shakes her head at herself, because, God, can she be any more embarrassing?

Quinn shrugs as she gets to her feet, using her towel to wipe sweat from her neck. "I like to stay in shape," she says.

"You do a good job of it."

Quinn tilts her head to the side. "Rachel, are you hitting on me?"

"What?" she sputters. "No. Of course not. That's not what I'm doing."

Quinn looks thoroughly amused. "It's okay if you are," she says. "I know I'm hot."

"And conceited," Rachel mutters.

Quinn laughs. "You can look if you want to," she says. "If you're lucky, I'll even let you touch."

Rachel shakes her head. "I don't remember you being this insufferable," she says.

Quinn steps closer to the elliptical. "I think you'll find quite a few things about me have changed in the time you've been gone, Berry," she says.

Rachel audibly swallows.

"Though, I don't think you're anywhere ready to learn just how much."

"Jesus."

Quinn winks at her. "Oh, I left him behind a hell of a long time ago," she says, somewhat saucily, and then turns on her heel and heads up the stairs.

Leaving Rachel breathless, even though she stopped moving several minutes ago.

Rachel avoids Quinn like the plague.

It's easy enough, given the girl disappears out the front door after breakfast with her fathers, saying something about Santana being in crisis.

Rachel does her best to ignore the feeling that oddly resembles jealousy.

God, she's supposed to be over these childish fantasies.

Having Quinn gone, though, leaves her to the mercy of her fathers, and it's obvious from the moment Quinn leaves that they've discussed everything she told them the night before.

"You're going back to school," LeRoy starts, and Rachel stiffens in her seat. They're still at the kitchen table, the remnants of breakfast spread out before them, and the sound of those words almost force the food she's just consumed right back up.

"I can't," she says. "I'm working."

"We're aware," LeRoy says. "You are going to go back to school and complete your degree. We don't care if you have to do it part-time, or if you have to defer until the end of your show's run, but you're going to go back to school. We've already failed at being parents, and - "

"Dads, no," Rachel immediately argues. "You haven't failed at anything. It - it was me. I was stubborn. I didn't listen."

"And we must have done a poor job, if you chose to resort to doing something so drastic," Hiram finishes. "It's something we've accepted. We're going to try to move on, if we haven't managed to, already."

Rachel nibbles at her bottom lip. "Has - has Quinn helped with that?"

They exchange a look, perhaps gauging why she's asking the question. Eventually, Hiram says, "She's always believed you would come home."

"She predicted this?"

"Not quite," LeRoy says. "Just that you'd miss us enough to come home."

Rachel drops her gaze, because, despite how much she's missed them, that isn't the reason she's braved this visit. "I was embarrassed," she whispers. "I am embarrassed. I didn't want you to know I chose wrong; that I failed at making it work with the person I chose over both of you."

Hiram reaches for her hand and gives it a quick squeeze. "We're your parents, Rachel. Teenagers do stupid things, you know? It just - it's nice to have you home, is all."

"I'm sorry."

"We're sorry, too," LeRoy says, and then the three of them participate in their first Berry hug for some years now. Rachel feels tears prick the back of her eyes as arms wrap around her, and she spares an appreciative thought to Quinn for allowing them this moment.

Rachel still has questions about Quinn - many, many - but she holds her tongue long enough to enjoy this moment with her fathers. It doesn't get awkward; just ends rather naturally, and, God, Rachel has missed them.

It's while they're cleaning up breakfast, the three of them in the kitchen, that LeRoy asks, "Did Quinn say what time she would be back?"

"No, why?" Hiram says, and Rachel pretends not to be interested.

"I have a few house calls that I thought she'd like to tag along on," he says, checking his phone. "What was she saying about Santana?"

"Something about her abuela ruining her sex life," Hiram answers with a laugh. "Quinn is probably trying to do damage control before we have another Thanksgiving 2013."

LeRoy winces.

Rachel can't resist asking, "Are Quinn and Santana together?"

Hiram's gaze snaps towards her, and then bursts out laughing. "Wow, no," he says. "Those two are too explosive for anything other than something physical. I'm so glad they got it out of their system."

Rachel's face pinches at the thought, and she turns away before either of her fathers can see. The - the idea of them together just - it doesn't -

"Plus, we all know Britt is the one who's always held Santana's heart," LeRoy says, eyes still on the screen of his phone. "Ah, okay, she says she'll meet me at Carter's house. Maybe I'll get her to take point."

Rachel's brow furrows. "Why would you do that?"

LeRoy pauses. "Oh," he says; "Quinn is doing Pre-Med. She's planning on becoming a surgeon." He gets this smile, looking so wonderfully proud, and Rachel is surprised that she feels no jealousy. "My girls," he adds after a moment; "both aiming for greatness."

Rachel flushes at the praise, because she's missed the affirmation of her parents. She's missed so much. She also still has more things to ask about Quinn, but she doesn't want to attract too much attention to her obvious interest.

Because she is interested.

She really, really is.

"Rachel," Hiram says, breaking into her thoughts. "Do you have any plans for the day?"

She's not sure how to explain that she didn't actually anticipate spending more than one night in Lima, if any at all. She really should be heading back to New York to start preparations for her show. But she can't tell them that.

"I - um, not really," she says. "Just some work things, probably."

Hiram nods, humming. "Your father and I have a faculty function to attend this evening, so, depending on Quinn's plans, you'll have the house to yourself."

Honestly, Rachel doesn't know which she would prefer. Quinn would probably ignore her, anyway, if she were here. Is that better or worse than being alone?

She doesn't have to spend too long worrying about it, because the day goes surprisingly quickly. She has lines to learn, and she spends some time building her character profile with the help of her teenage journals.

It is shockingly easy to get into the mindset of a lovestruck teenager with a crush on someone who barely notices her.

She's still at it when LeRoy leaves and returns alone, when Hiram brings her a sandwich for lunch, and when her fathers get dolled up and leave for their very important function.

She's still busy when Quinn finally returns, and she does her best not to react when she hears light footsteps on the stairs. She listens as Quinn walks into what is her bedroom and moves around, probably removing her external layers - which, yeah, Rachel probably shouldn't be thinking about Quinn removing her clothes.

Rachel remains where she is, almost frozen in place. She's not sure what - if anything - is going to happen now that Quinn is back, but she really doesn't expect Quinn to appear in her doorway, socks on her feet and glasses on her face.

"Hey," Quinn says, smiling softly. "I'm assuming you've already had dinner."

Rachel just about manages a nod.

"Cool," she says. "I'm going to make some hot chocolate, maybe find a Christmas movie... you game?"

Rachel is so tempted to say no. After the awkwardness of this morning, avoiding any kind of contact seems like a good idea. But, Quinn is wearing such an open, hopeful expression that Rachel won't even entertain the idea of denying her.

Which is really how she finds herself curled up on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate and a blanket wrapped around her. They're watching Elf - which, admittedly, isn't her favourite - but Quinn keeps giggling, her eyes wide and bright, and Rachel doesn't know how she's supposed to survive the next hour and a half.

Somehow, she manages it, even though she's glaringly aware of just how close Quinn actually is. She can even feel the heat of her body.

They don't talk much, which is probably smart, because Rachel is sure she'll end up putting her foot in it. Not that she really cares. It's just - well -

When the movie ends, Quinn switches the screen to a news channel and reduces the volume. Her body turns to face Rachel and she asks, "So, how are you, really?"

For a moment, Rachel isn't sure how to respond, but then she says, "I've been better."

Quinn's features soften, and she is beautiful. "I'm sorry to hear that," she says.

"Are you?"

Here, Quinn hesitates. "I - I was trying to save you from this," she admits. "The inevitable hurt." She licks her lips. "It's been brought to my attention numerous times that I might not have gone about it the correct way."

Rachel snorts. "You told me Finn would get bored of me," she points out, and Quinn winces. "Though, you definitely weren't wrong."

"I am sorry," Quinn says. "It was - it wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Like what?"

Quinn shifts in place. "You just turned twenty-one," she says. "Without your parents."

"It wasn't anything special," Rachel dismisses, because Quinn definitely doesn't need to know she spent parts of the day in tears. She has friends, and cast mates, but she's missing something like family, and she can't quite ignore how comfortable she feels here in Quinn's presence.

Quinn feels safe, which is such a foreign thought. She won't say Quinn feels like family, because it'll be weird to follow that up with the very real fact that Rachel really wants to kiss her. She's had moments like this before, just looking at Quinn like she's all there is in this great big world.

It would be easy, she thinks, now that she knows Quinn wouldn't be against it... completely. And, yet, Rachel remains in place, unmoving.

"What about you?" Rachel asks. "How are you doing?"

Quinn sighs. "I'm pretty exhausted, I won't lie," she says, and her body seems to relax at the confession. "College is hard. I barely sleep, because the workload is intense. I made too many commitments as a freshman, and now I'm involved with all these clubs, because I'm too polite to tell them all I want to do is get some fucking sleep." She laughs to herself, this quiet sound. "My friends are also non-stop, adventurous assholes, who love to guilt-trip me into doing things, and I just - God, I just needed to come home and recharge for a little while, you know?"

Rachel blinks, her heart aching a little. "I do know, yeah."

Quinn shifts again, turning her entire body where she's sitting on the opposite end of the couch and crossing her legs in front of her. "Is it weird?" she asks. "That I consider this my home?"

Rachel considers it. "A little, yeah, but it's getting easier to accept."

Quinn nods in thought. "I bet you have questions."

"Plenty."

Quinn grins knowingly. "You have three questions, free of charge," she offers. "Use them wisely."

Rachel straightens in her seat, suddenly nervous. "Will you elaborate if I ask a yes or no question?"

"Is that one of them?"

"Quinn," she huffs.

"I'll do my best," she concedes.

Rachel takes a deep breath, and then asks, "have you always known your preference?"

"As in, did I figure it out when I was five?" Quinn questions with a smile. "No, I haven't. I didn't really suspect anything until high school. I had an idea, and I did my cliché 'Are You Gay?' quizzes to help convince myself what I already knew. Telling my parents was kind of an accident, because I was just so miserable the summer after graduation, and then, well , here I am. College really helped cement a lot of things for me."

"Like what?" Rachel finds herself asking. "Which doesn't count as a question."

Quinn arches an eyebrow, but makes no comment. "That I have a dangerous thing for tiny, pretty brunettes," she says instead, and Rachel's breath catches in her throat. "One of my roommates now, Ben, who's spent the last few months studying serial killers, claims it's not to do with my having a type, but more to do with a particular, unreachable girl, whom I've convinced myself I'll never have, so I look for her in other girls."

Rachel has no idea what to make of those words... or the blush on Quinn's cheeks. "What do you think?"

"I think he's full of shit," Quinn says; "but he's also right." She licks her lips, and Rachel can't stop herself from staring. "I've been in therapy for some time now, and I've managed to figure out a lot of things about myself."

Rachel is aware Quinn is trying to tell her something without actually telling her, but she doesn't think either of them is ready for whatever truth that is. "Can I ask about what dating has been like, now that you've figured it out?"

Quinn smiles softly. "It's been a steep learning curve," she explains. "Girls are different to boys. I've had to learn how to be in a relationship, rather than how I used to control a relationship." She looks thoughtful. "My freshman roommate, Paula, and I kind of explored the LGBT scene together, which didn't make it as scary as it might have been going at it alone. We actually dated a set of twins, once, which was, yeah, I definitely wouldn't recommend doing that."

She laughs to herself, and Rachel wouldn't be able to look away if she tried. Quinn shakes her head and says, "Once I was more comfortable with it all, I found that I actually enjoyed dating and meeting people. Before, it felt as if I was just enduring another person in my life, mainly because society expected it of me. Now, not so much. Now, I like pursuing girls and getting to talk to them and not have to hide my interest in them. That shit is exhausting."

Rachel still doesn't know what she's feeling. God, just the idea of Quinn actively pursuing girls makes her feel -

She doesn't even know.

"You have one more question," Quinn informs her.

Rachel wrings her fingers together in her lap, quietly contemplating if asking her next question is a good idea or not. She thinks she'll regret it either way, so she'd rather attempt to get an answer. "Why were you miserable?" she asks. "After graduation? You mentioned it earlier."

Quinn's expression falters, before it grows guarded. She doesn't respond for the longest time, and Rachel is convinced she won't at all until she very quietly says, "You know why." She gets to her feet before Rachel can even register the words, gathering up their dirty dishes before disappearing into the kitchen.

Rachel sits for a while, listening as Quinn moves around the kitchen. She knows why. That's what Quinn said. She already knows why.

And, the thing is, perhaps she really does.

Quinn appears in the archway to the living room at some point, a light throw over her shoulders. "I think I'm going to call it a night," she says. "Goodnight, Rachel."

She's out of sight before Rachel can say anything in response, and there's just a silence left in her wake.

Rachel waits several beats of her racing heart, her mind whirring, before she gets to her feet and rushes after Quinn, needing more answers.

Quinn is just coming out of the bathroom when Rachel reaches the landing, her mouth automatically saying, "What does that even mean?"

Quinn freezes in front of her open door, looking so adorably unsure at Rachel's approach. "What?"

"I know why?" Rachel questions. "How am I supposed to know why you would be miserable?"

"I - "

"No," Rachel says, and she really doesn't even know what she's saying. "You don't get to say something so damn cryptic. Not when it's been years, and I don't - I don't know you, Quinn, even if I've always wanted to, and you're - "

Quinn just stares at her.

"I know miserable, believe me," she says. "I am twenty-one and divorced and a college dropout, and I came home to find my high school tormentor living with my parents, whom I've just learned is now gay, and still has these perfect eyes and this perfect voice and she's - "

Quinn is still just staring at her, eyes wide and her mouth twitching into something that looks a little too smug at the sight of Rachel practically unravelling right in front of her.

Then, well, Rachel does something crazy.

Later, she'll call it insanity, but she's in the moment and Quinn is right there, mouth pulling into a dangerous smirk, and Rachel is nothing if not impulsive and destructive.

Which are all the reasons she surges forward and kisses the smirk right off Quinn's lips. She couldn't have stopped herself if she tried, her teeth biting and her tongue swirling.

She's kissing Quinn, and the blonde is letting her.

Quinn does pull away, eventually, and she has this look in her eye that makes Rachel squirm. It's not as if she's done something wrong, but Quinn is studying her very closely, as if she's trying to make a decision about her.

"You were hitting on me this morning, weren't you?" Quinn asks.

Rachel traps her bottom lip between her teeth, and then nods.

"Why?"

Rachel frowns, unsure how to respond.

"Is it because I'm hot?" Quinn asks, and Rachel can't tell if she's joking.

Rachel nods anyway.

Quinn's expression flickers for a moment, and then she sighs, says a soft "Fuck it," and then kisses Rachel this time.

It's a frantic kiss, and Rachel gets the memo immediately. This is leading somewhere, right now, right -

Well, not here.

Quinn tugs harshly on her shirt, and then they're moving, Quinn stepping backwards and Rachel following. They end up in Quinn's room, and the door slams behind Rachel's back, Quinn's right hand immediately turning the lock. The sound rings in Rachel's ears, telling her this is probably a terrible idea, but then Quinn lets out this delightful little moan, and all coherent thought flies out the window.

Rachel's hands grab for Quinn's clothing, desperate to get rid of it; eager to get to the skin that was so freely on display just this morning. Despite how conceited Quinn may or may not be, she is incredibly hot, and Rachel is desperate to touch. And taste.

The thought gives her pause, though, because, sure, Quinn is hot, but that isn't the reason she -

Rachel breaks their kiss quite suddenly, leaving them both dazed as Quinn sits on the edge of her bed, Rachel straddling her lap. "No," she says. "Wait, no, that's not it. That's not it at all."

"Why aren't you kissing me?" Quinn demands, hands on Rachel's hips, possessive.

"It's not because you're hot," Rachel forces herself to say, and Quinn tilts her head to the side, obviously confused. "Not that you're not hot," Rachel adds a beat later. "Because you are. Your body is - you are probably the most stunning human being I have ever seen, and I almost can't believe I get to touch you right now."

"We can really get back to the touching," Quinn says, impatient and a little amused, her cheeks flushed.

"It's not just because you're hot," Rachel forces herself to say. "It's more than that, okay? I need you to know. It's so much more."

Quinn's grip on her hips eases slightly, and the passion from earlier has faded into something soft and genuine. "You like me," she surmises.

"I like you," Rachel confirms.

Quinn's smile creeps across her face. "I like you, too," she says. "I have, for a very long time."

Rachel looks right into Quinn's eyes. "How long?"

Quinn audibly swallows. "You already know the answer to that question," she says, which is true, now that Rachel allows herself to acknowledge what Quinn has already told her.

"I broke your heart," she whispers, remembering those last few days before she and Finn departed for New York. Their goodbyes were devastating, and she still feels the misery she harboured then over yet another relationship she would be losing.

Quinn says nothing, attempting to pull away, though Rachel won't let her.

Rachel cups her face, her thumbs smoothing over her cheekbones. "I promise I won't do it again," she says just as quietly, and then kisses her sweetly, purposefully.

Definitely not what she was expecting when she came home.

Quinn's hands drift over her sides, bringing her even closer, and Rachel feels her world tilt.

As if it's just setting itself right.

As if it's been spinning so out of control for so long, and her axis is just now realigning itself.

The thought sounds romantic in her head, and she contemplates bringing it up to Quinn right until the moment Quinn nibbles at her bottom lip.

All she knows is, beyond this moment, her life and love is about to begin again.

Fin