TITLE – Souvenirs Of Our Life

RATING – T for language and mature themes

PAIRING – Rachel/Quinn with a side of Brittany/Santana

SYNOPSIS – An elderly Rachel guides her inquisitive granddaughter through the items in a worn scrapbook.

DISCLAIMER – I don't own Glee. I'm just borrowing its characters for my personal amusement so don't sue for I have nothing of value.

A/N – I was reading Portia De Rossi's book Unbearable Lightness, which, by the way, is a heartbreaking read, and this phrase "souvenirs of our life" really stuck with me. Stuck, as in I couldn't get it out of my head. Therefore, I turned it into a story. The story and its characters might be a little OOC. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1 – The Slushee That Started It All

"Grandmamma Rae?"

An old woman looked up from where she sat in her favorite rocking chair by a quietly crackling fire to see one of her youngest grandchildren tugging a heavy scrapbook alongside her. The child's face was scrunched up in concentration for the book was heavy and almost half her size. However, it was plain to see that the child would not be deterred by neither weight nor size as she continued lugging the precious item toward her grandmother.

Rachel smiled fondly at the sight. "Hello, Shannon." She bent and picked up the slightly panting girl, along with the book. Settling Shannon onto her lap, she propped the book in front of the little girl. "What have we got here?"

"A really heavy book," the little girl replied promptly. At the tender age of three, Shannon's vocabulary was by far advance of her peers. Quinn had always joked that had despite Shannon being blonde, she was a miniature Rachel; ramblings, theatrics and all. Genes really was a wondrous thing.

"It's not just any book, Shannon. This book is special." Rachel ran a nostalgic finger down its cracked spine, her skin tingling as she recalled all the memories that were tucked inside this family heirloom.

"Is it magic?" The little girl asked, her eyes widening comically as she twisted in her grandmother's embrace to look up at Rachel's face.

Rachel chuckled. "I suppose you could say that." She nudged Shannon back into a proper sitting position then quietly opened the worn cover, revealing a flattened object glued to a purpled stained page.

"What's that?" Shannon asked, pointing a tiny finger at the page.

"It's a slushee cup," Rachel explained.

"What's a slushee?"

"A type of cold drink with ice chips in it," Rachel answered. "It comes in many flavors and colors."

"Like purple?" The inquisitive child asked as she traced a purple splotch next to the slushee cup.

"Yes," Rachel replied. She looked down at the little girl who had taken to poking the flattened cup with an air of curiosity. "Do you want to hear the story of this slushee cup, Shan?"

The little blonde nodded excitedly, her blonde hair bouncing in agreement. "Please, grandmamma Rae! Tell me the story!"

Rachel laughed at her granddaughter's enthusiasm. "Alright," she conceded. "It all started when your grandma Quinn and I were in high school…"

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SPLASH!

Rachel gasped in shock as she was assaulted with a slushee straight to the face. Spluttering and coughing, she spat out bits of the icy beverage from mouth, her entire posture rigid with tension as laughter sounded out across McKinley's hallway. Kids ambling up and down the hallway alike all stopped to watch the spectacle that was Rachel Berry. Some openly pointed at the drenched diva, mirth evident on their faces whilst others cringed and looked away, an odd mixture of shame and relief shadowing their faces. Shame for not standing up to their fellow student but relief for not being the target of the day.

Rachel's eyes felt as though they were on fire and she knuckled them furiously in a desperate attempt to dispel the smarting sensation of ice chips hitting the sensitive skin of her eyes with propelled force. Aside from feeling as if she had just gotten smacked by an iceberg, the stinging coldness of the beverage stole her breath away, leaving her lungs burning for much needed oxygen.

Chest heaving slightly, Rachel resorted to her breathing techniques to get her breathing back under control. She grimaced as she felt the stray piece of ice slither down the front of her shirt to pool at the bottom of her bra. Making a last swipe across her eyes, the petite girl opened them just in time to see Quinn lower her arm, revealing a self-satisfied smirk that was plastered wide across the blonde's face.

"I hear you like the grape slushee, Man-Hands," Quinn sneered, throwing the now empty slushee cup at Rachel's feet. "In your honor," she mocked, executing a half bow.

Something inside of Rachel snapped; it was akin to stretching a rubber band to its breaking point and the resulting backlash caused the petite brunette to do something that shocked the watching student body, Quinn and most definitely Rachel.

She slapped Quinn.

It was a movement so unplanned that Rachel was stunned speechless when her hand met the head cheerleader's cheek with palpable force, her entire palm tingling with the force of the slap. It reverberated down her arm, causing muscles to quiver in response.

The silence that fell onto the hallway was louder than a bomb going off. Students adopted looks of shock, horror and dread as they watched the scene unfold before them. Shock that someone so low on the social ladder would have the audacity to hit Quinn, the head cheerleader in front of the entire student body. Horror that mirrored Rachel's still stupefied face as she stared at her hand as though she had never seen it before. Dread that Quinn was simply standing there, not retaliating. That alone was a sign of an impending apocalypse.

What occurred next would rock the social foundations of McKinley High for weeks to come.

When Quinn took a step forward, the kids in the hallway collectively held their breaths for they knew the blonde was about to unleash Armageddon. And Rachel, poor Rachel, was going to get the brunt of it.

Rachel flinched instinctively as Quinn's movement toward her put her in far too close proximity with the blonde.

Quinn glowered at Rachel even as she towered over the petite girl. Reaching out, she grabbed the lapels of the smaller girl's slushee soaked shirt, fisting the material in her hands.

Then she pushed Rachel up against the row of lockers and kissed the hell out of her.

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A/N 2 – To continue or not to continue? Comments, critiques and smelly socks are welcomed.