AN: This story is a year old and is now eight chapters. Time flies when you don't do much. Also, wow guys, the amount of reviews and alerts and faves this story has officially blown my mind. I really appreciate. Also, the flow in this chapter is different, in my opinion. Maybe it isn't.

Thanks to: Jules-Day, Whisperer21, FormerGophers, gllover22, Silversaphire96, and Anon-Em! For reviewing the last chapter-

Seriously, you guys leaving reviews makes me insanely excited- and I think most of you have reviewed each chapter- Thank you, so much! I wish I could like, send you little friendship bracelets in the mail but that'd be creepy so, I'll settle with a thank you in the form of words.

Disclaimer: Doth mother know you weareth her drapes? I don't own anything- including that sentence.

Warnings: Well, I really don't know if I'll ever have real warnings to add ever, but maybe someday. Not today, though.

xx

We stand in silence, the muffled sound coming from the voices below us. I want to reach out and touch her arm, wrap my own arms around her waist, lean my head against her chest and just feel her body against mine. Instead, I stand and wait because she has a reason for us being here in the middle of the bedroom while we have people downstairs waiting for us.

I never know where to look in these moments so my eyes jump from looking straight into hers down to her sock-clad feet then up to the belt wrapped around her waist. This doesn't seem to bother her though because she just smiles and simply looks at my face every single time.

I wait and she watches and it goes on for several moments until she brings her hand up and brushes soft fingertips against my neck, leaving me holding my breath and just letting her touch as I wait.

"You, Rachel Berry, are beautiful." Her voice is soft and I'm suddenly wondering what I've done to get this kind of praise- but before I can ask, she takes a step closer and I momentarily forget about breathing.

No, it isn't the first time I've been this close to her but it's the closest I've ever felt. It feels like I'm closer than I am, but only her hand is touching me and I am overwhelmed all of the sudden.

Maybe she realizes I'm not breathing, or maybe it's something about my face, because she takes a step away, leaving me to my own space.

"Quinn," I whisper, my eyes searching hers before dropping to look at her socks.

"I talked to your dad earlier." She says, her voice is strong this time, louder than before and I'm hanging on to her every word. "Do you want to know what he said, Rachel?"

She's going to tell me anyway, and I just bite my lip, waiting to hear what she wants me to hear.

"I told him about us and how I think you think you're telling the truth when you conveniently leave things out." Her voice is quiet but resilient; she's still watching me. "I asked him if he knew who the Savendale's were, and he told me a story about a guy named Mark Savendale."

I flinch, knowing where this is ultimately going, and my arms come up to fold across my chest. She pauses, watching me, and I keep my eyes on her socks.

"Rachel, why does your dad know who Mark Savendale is, yet he didn't seem to know anything about his daughter?"

She waits for me to answer, and I take a deep breath, bringing my eyes up to her belt, knowing I couldn't explain this straight to her face.

"I never told them about her," I say, still staring at her belt, not knowing what I would see if I were to look her in the eyes. Continuing, "I didn't want them to feel guilty about anything- she was only angry because my dad pressed charges against hers." I try to explain it to her, dropping my arms, finally looking up and seeing questions.

Questions that I needed to answer.

"You know that they would have felt more protective than guilty if they had known about the name-calling," She says it like it's a fact, and it is then that I realize she thinks they had only been hurting me through words. It is now that I realize I had left some things out when we had been in the entry way.

It is now that I realize she somehow knows me better than I know myself.

I can feel the panic begin to swirl inside my chest, and my mind begins to race with the possible outcomes. And now, it must be showing on my face because she's suddenly frowning, staring at me for a second, scrutinizing me, continuing quietly.

"You're not telling me everything."

I'm on my knees in a second, hands clasped behind me and I keep my eyes on the carpet-covered floor between where Her feet are in front of me.

It's quiet again and I listen to Her being absolutely quiet and I realize that my thoughts aren't making any sense in this moment. All I know is that I want, I need to beg Her for Her forgiveness, forgiveness for not telling Her, forgiveness for-

There's a knock on the closed door, a warning knock, and it opens revealing Brittany poking her head through to look at us before pushing it all the way open.

"Santana wants to know if we're ever going to eat?" she asks Quinn, her voice uncharacteristically soft; she waits in the doorway for an answer, taking in the sight of me and Her.

"We'll be down in a few minutes, Brittany." Her voice is quiet, carefully controlled. Brittany must nod because the sound of her footsteps back down the hall and stairs is the only thing I hear in the next few moments that pass.

"Up."

I stand, breathing deeply, still standing a few feet from Her, waiting, listening, my hands still behind my back, eyes never leaving the ground.

"I had only wanted to know why you never told them about her," She starts, stepping closer to me. "Only to find out that you aren't even telling me the whole story." She pauses, watching me, letting me catch my breath, letting me compose myself and then,

"I'm disappointed."

There's a twisting in my stomach, in my chest, when she says those words. I close my eyes. I take a shaky breath, let it out, in again, and then out.

She watches me and I shake my head slightly, willing the tears away. I open my eyes, letting tears fall anyway, I shake my head again, another shaky breath in, and back out.

"Rachel, I am disappointed in you," the tears fall faster, and I choke back a sob, listening to her still, "because I need you to know that I know you're better than this; better than hiding things from your family and from me. I need you to be better than that, Rachel. I know you're better than that."

She pauses, watching me, patiently waiting-

I nod in response, my eyes staring down at the ground again, and the sobs come from deep inside me in the next moment. I cry and the sounds seem to come straight from that feeling that had come from two words. My eyes are shut and I'm sobbing and I feel the pain in my chest slowly grow with each shaky breath I inhale. I can feel Her eyes on me, watching me, but She doesn't try to comfort me. I want to reach out and wrap my arms around Her waist, only I don't because I don't deserve that.

I don't deserve the comfort of Her touch- because She is disappointed in me. She is disappointed and I still haven't told Her about what had really been going on yet. She is still waiting and I finally take another shaky breath in and back out before I nod once, twice, again and again until She speaks.

"Say it, Rachel. Tell me right now that you know you're better than lying. Tell me that you know you're better, and I want you to promise me you're not going to lie about what really happens from now on."

It's a command, it's a command and I'm trying to calm myself down but it's hard when I know She is disappointed and it's because of me and I take another shaky breath in and out and again.

She waits, and watches me.

Shakily, I lower myself back down to the ground with my eyes closed and head bowed towards the ground. The position is familiar, and familiarity is the only comfort I know I will get in this moment. I catch my breath, the sobs subsiding but the pain in my chest is still heavy. She watches and waits and I finally open my eyes and raise my head slightly.

"Master," my voice is rough, and I audibly swallow before continuing, "I'm sorry. I-I'm better than lying, and I-"

I take a shaky breath, nodding to myself, and Her eyes are still watching me.

"I promise," my voice is stronger, "I won't lie about what will happen, I didn't mean to disappoint you. I'm so, so sorry." I finish, and my voice pleading for her to forgive me; then comes the waiting, still staring at the ground.

Her hand is in my hair a moment later and I can't stop the whimper that comes out at the feeling of Her tugging roughly, forcing me to look up and into Her eyes.

"I forgive you, girl." She says, loosening the grip She has on my hair slightly, "You're better than lying, and I forgive you for today; for everything that has happened today."

Her grip tightens again, and She tugs roughly once more, making sure She has all my attention before she continues.

"Mine."

Her nails are digging into my scalp and I whimper at the familiar feeling of Her hand in my hair and that feeling of being Hers.

"Got it?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good."

She's quiet for a moment and I don't take my eyes away from Hers after She lets go of my hair and kneels down next to me. "We're going to have to talk about everything tomorrow, because we need to get back downstairs. Let's just enjoy the rest of tonight, okay?" I nod, knowing tomorrow's conversation was going to be another challenge, but also knowing that just now had been the most difficult part; now, no more secrets.

It was knowing that she knew me better than I knew myself, and knowing she could be disappointed in me and that it physically pained me- it completely terrified me to a whole different level. Only, it was also knowing she could forgive me that eased my fears.

"Rachel Berry," She sighs, as her hand reaches up to gently brush a strand of hair out of my face. "You are mine," She smiles and the pain that had settled in my chest earlier begins to fade when she leans forward to press her forehead against mine, "and you are beautiful."

I close my eyes, wanting to remember this moment. I breathe in deeply and smile as the faint smell of her coconut shampoo fills my nose; I listen to the muffled sound of people still downstairs whom are waiting for us; the faint saltiness from the tears that I had cried earlier are on my tongue from when I had licked my lips. I lean into her hand that is gently cupping my cheek, letting myself feel her warm hand touching my face as her thumb gently begins to run back and forth across my skin; I get lost in the feel of her skin on mine, then am suddenly stunned at the warmth of her breath against my lips and

Oh.