AN: Though I originally intended on this being a one shot, I do actually have a few ideas for if I was ever to extend the story and make it a longer, multi-chapter. Please let know if you would like to read more of this story. I hope you enjoy.

Applebaum

Ever since I was a little girl aged six or even or maybe even younger, I have been climbing over the fence and into the garden next door. When I was little, a lovely elderly couple lived there and they didn't mind at all. Mrs Applebaum passed away aged eighty-six when I was eleven, and Mr Applebaum moved into the local home for elderlies. He passed two years later.

Ever since Mrs Applebaum's time came to an end, nobody has lived in the house. It's still in perfect condition, but it's empty. When I say empty, I mean that it's the home to nobody. Because really, it's not entirely empty. It just feels empty when I sneak into the back garden, because I know there's no one sitting on the deck or minding their own business inside the white brick walls.

As soon as I climb over that perfect pinewood fence, I drift into a world of my own. No one can disturb me. I'll do whatever I please in that garden. I sit on the abandoned swing, or I climb up the steps leading to the slide that is on its last legs. Sometimes I just lounge around in the grass or chill on the highest branch in the tallest tree at the back of the garden. Sometimes I pick apples from the apple tree and I have a little picnic by myself.

That garden is almost like my second home, and I couldn't imagine my life without it.

Even now, at age sixteen, it's the only thing that really makes me happy.

"Quinn!" my mother calls after me as I unlock the door leading into our back garden, ready to escape into next door's again.

Sighing, I drop my hand to my side and turn to face her. "What is it, mom?"

Her face is filled with deepest sympathy, and I can immediately sense that some bad news is on the way. "You can't keep sneaking into the Applebaum garden."

We've always called it the Applebaum garden, even all this time after Juliet and Robert passed. They were Mrs and Mr Applebaum, in case you were wondering. They were almost like Romeo and Juliet. Juliet and Robert. Robert and Juliet. It was sweet. They were sweet. And I missed them every day. They were like the grandparents I never really had.

"Why not?" I questioned. Nobody had ever stopped me before, so why choose today to do it?

"Because it's not the Applebaum garden anymore," she explained.

I could feel my eyebrows raising right the way up my forehead without me even trying to raise them. "What do you mean? They've been gone for five years and only now have you decided not to call it that anymore?"

She sighed. "No. It's not that. It's because it's the Berry garden now. A new family moved in last night."

My jaw dropped and my eyes bulged. It really wasn't the Applebaum garden anymore?

"Mom, it'll always be the Applebaum garden. Berries or no Berries, it'll always belong to Juliet and Robert," I argued, turning to walk outside again.

"Quinn, stop!" she called once more. Again, I faced her. "They won't be happy to find out that their new next door neighbour has a habit of breaking into their garden. There's three of them. Two men and a girl your age."

What even? "Oh, so that bitch will be at our school on Monday?" I snapped. "Great, I'll give her a piece of my mind then. Thinking she can just swoop in and steal the garden from its true owners! Little bitch." I didn't mind that she had two gay dads; I am not a homophobic. What I minded was that she and her two gay dads had taken the garden. I was pissed off about that. Well and truly pissed off.

"Quinn," my mom said sternly.

I ignored her. "What's her name?"

"Quinn," she repeated.

"Oh, so her name is Quinn too?"

"No," mother hissed. "Stop being difficult."

Two could play at this game. "Help me get the garden back."

"Quinn, we do have our own garden," she tried to reason.

Yes, it was true. We did have our own garden. But that didn't matter to me. The Applebaum garden was where my heart lay. It was where my heart had always lay. It was my home.

"You know it's not the same," I told her.

And she gave in. She nodded and she agreed with me. "I know, Quinnie. You're right; it's really not the same at all. Even for me, it's weird knowing the garden is neither ours or Juliet and Robert's anymore. But we have to deal with it, because it belongs to Rachel, Hiram and LeRoy."

"Rachel," I commented. "Thanks for finally spilling her name!" I was about to disappear outside and climb over the fence, but I knew she was going to stop me again. And she did.

"Quinn, I'm sorry. You can't go over there anymore unless you're invited."

"I'll invite myself."

"To your room."

"Bu-"

"Now, Quinn."

"I hate everyone," I groaned, dropping the bucket I usually filled with apples and wincing as it crashed to the cold tiled kitchen floor.

Behind me as I trudged up the stairs, I could hear my mom sighing once again. Nothing would ever be the same again now.

"By the way, Rachel is homeschooled!" she called up the stairs.

"Just freaking great!" I shouted back.

How was I going to get by without my precious Applebaum garden?

What must Juliet and Robert be thinking up above?

Now that I'd lost my garden, I decided I would spend my days sitting up on the window seat in my bedroom, and I'd look out at the garden I'd never be able to step foot into again. I wasn't going to lie; I had been crying. Tears were still in my eyes.

And then, my eyes darted across the room, landing on the other window that did not look out onto the two gardens. There was another window seat there, and I hopped off this one to make my way over to it.

Opposite was a teenage girl sat on the window seat in her own house. She was writing something in a pink jewelled book. It looked like a diary. Her pen was fluffy.

Suddenly, she looked up and stared out of the window, looking right at me. She smiled.

And my stomach churned. My heart fluttered. My cheeks flushed.

She was beautiful.

Just as beautiful as the garden she had possessed. Now I was already beginning to forgive her for taking over the Applebaum garden.

Her skin was tanned and her hair was long. It was a lovely shade of dark brunette with blonde streaks running through it and the hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders. Looking at her legs, I could gather that she was most certainly on the shorter side.

After a few long seconds of staring, I smiled back at her.

I heard a noise, and it took me a little while to realise that she was opening the window to speak to me. Taking a deep breath, I did the same. I watched as the diary was tossed to the floor and she grasped the window pane, leaning slightly out.

"Hi," she called. Her voice reminded me of angels. It was friendly and heartwarming. It was as beautiful as she.

"Hi," I called back. Maybe she thought the same of me, I wouldn't ever know. "You just moved here?"

"Yes, I'm Rachel," she replied.

"I'm Quinn."

She beamed at me. "This house is lovely. The garden is truly beautiful."

My breath hitched in my throat and I struggled to get words out after hearing that.

It's my garden! I wanted to snap, but I couldn't. I couldn't because she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life and I imagined she would be fragile. Plus, she was unaware of the damage she had done to my heart just by moving into that stupid house. No, the house was not stupid.

"It really is," I murmured, trying to contain my many emotions I was experiencing at this exact point of time. "For a house in Lima, anyway."

"The house is nothing compared to the garden," Rachel continued. "I mean, the house is truly fantastic, but the garden is just about the most incredible, dazzling thing I have ever seen in my life. I love it already. I've fallen in love with it. I'll be spending all of time out there, I think. I cannot believe how lucky I am!"

Was she trying to rub it in? Did she know all about my connection with the garden? Did she know all about Mr and Mrs Applebaum?

"I have to go," I suddenly snapped. "It was great talking to you." She opened her mouth to say something, but I had already slammed the window shut. I watched her face for a few more seconds, and felt shamefully guilty as her mouth slowly closed and she stared out of her still open window for a little longer.

"It's all your fault," I muttered. I was talking to her, but I knew she couldn't hear. So really, I was talking to myself. Does that make sense?

I went to bed early last night in an unpleasant mood, and I woke up at 4:30am. If I couldn't have my garden in the day, I'd have it before the crack of dawn. Maybe I should just start sleeping in that garden. I would have to get up early to creep back over to my own house, but at least it would be something. I'd have the garden all to myself, that way.

So in my slippers and my summer pyjamas with my hair twisted up in a scruffy bun, I climbed out of my bedroom window as carefully and as quietly as possible. There was a tree that leaned just under the windowsill, and I'd used it to escape through my window many times before.

I knew that this window was the one opposite Rachel's, and she hasn't drawn her curtains, but all lights in the "Berry" house were off, so it was unlikely that she would hear me and she definitely wouldn't see me.

Clinging onto the edge of the windowsill, I reached up with one hand to pull the window down slightly.

"Shit!" I exclaimed when the window slammed fully shut. It hadn't been loud, and neither had my groan, but it still meant that I had no way of getting back in until a long time later on. Ugh, whatever. That didn't matter right now. What mattered was that I was going to get into my garden.

My feet were perched on the highest stable branch of the tree, and slowly I began to lower myself. One of my feet stepped down into the next branch, and my hands found their way one by one to a branch higher up on the tree that, although was too thin to stand on, was great for supporting myself as I scrambled down.

A couple of minutes later, I was hopping down from the lowest branch, bashing my knees and grazing my elbows against the trunk, but finishing unharmed overall. I straightened my pyjamas and rubbed my sorest knee before beginning to tiptoe along the little pathway between mine and the Applebaum house. Yes, it was the Applebaum house, not the Berry house. I didn't care if it was the Berry family who lived there now, it would never be their house. Not ever.

Our back gates stood one by one, and as expected, both were locked. But it was okay, because all I needed to do was climb over one of them. I was an expert at climbing.

Deciding it would just be easier to climb over the Applebaum gate and end up in their garden right away, I reached up to curl my fingers over the top of the painted white wood, and lifted my feet to stand on the very small ledge that hardly gave me any support at all. Slowly, I began to work my way up the gate.

It was a much slower process than climbing out of my window using the tree, but I got there in the end and was delighted when I was able to leap into the grass I loved so much. As soon as the soles of my slippers began to sink into the bright green grass, I felt at home and I'd never been happier.

This garden was my whole world. It really, really was.

I danced my way across the large garden, until I reached the apple tree. Oh, how I loved stealing apples from that tree. Well, it wasn't really stealing. It was more like just going apple-picking in peace. Juliet and Robert had always known I did it, and they had never minded in the slightest. When nobody had been living here, there was nobody to tell me I couldn't. So it had never really been stealing up until now. Even now, I didn't consider it as theft, because technically it was my tree. It was my garden. Not Rachel and her two gay dads' garden. It would never belong to them. Only me.

Breathing in the fresh scent of the apples, I stood on my tiptoes and reached up to grab one.

"Quinn!" a voice called.

Oh, crap. I was in trouble.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

Letting to of the apple I had almost successfully picked, I slowly turned to face Rachel, who was standing there with wide eyes. She was also in her pyjamas, and I couldn't help but wonder how she had even known I was out here. I had been quieter than ever, and no lights had flashed on inside the house even for a split second. Not that I'd noticed, anyway. And surely I would, right?

"I'm picking apples," I answered calmly. "What does it look like?" Minimum sarcasm was hidden in my voice, but it didn't show as much as it usually did when I was in a sarcastic mood. Perhaps it was because being mean to this girl didn't feel right, whereas usually I wouldn't hesitate if I was in a bad or easily irritated mood.

"In my garden? Why?"

There she goes again.

"It's my garden!" I spat. "This garden belongs to Juliet and Robert Applebaum, and I have virtually lived in it since I was six years old! I do not care if you live in this house now, this garden will never be yours or your family's, do you understand? Every single day for the past ten years, I have sneaked into this garden and done whatever I please! Then yesterday, I was stopped and told I couldn't anymore because you live here! Every day for ten years, I've broke into this garden. Every single day!"

"For ten years?" Rachel repeated in uttermost shock.

"For ten years," I confirmed, a little calmer now. "Even when nobody was living here for five years."

Rachel seemed to wear an expression of sadness and guilty. "I'm so sorry," she apologies in a meaningful tone. I knew straight away that she really meant it. "I didn't know. You are right; this is your garden, Quinn, and I want you to be able to come in here and be happy whenever you want to. My parents are friendly so they would definitely allow it, but if you still don't want them to know, then I won't tell them. Just come in here when you want. The garden is yours, Quinn Fabray."

How was this possible? How could she be so charming?

"I don't remember telling you my last name."

"Daddy had a short conversation with your mom yesterday evening."

She still called her parents daddy? "Daddy?"

"Yes, I have two gay dads. One is daddy and the other is dad."

"Oh," I mumbled. "Makes sense."

Rachel smiled right at me. "You can pick your apples now. Take as many as you want."

"Thanks."

I turned to claim my apples from the tree, and she continued talking. "How long do you plan on staying out here tonight? You can be here for as long as you wish; I'm just curious."

"I don't know," I confessed, piling another apple on top of the one I had already picked just seconds prior. What a shame I hadn't brought the bucket. How was I going to get these back? "I climbed out of my bedroom window and it slammed shut by accident. I haven't really got a way of getting back in until my parents awake and kill me, so I guess I'm out here for the night. Or forever."

Rachel pouted. "It's actually morning," she corrected matter-of-factly. "But I know what you mean, don't worry. That's a shame. I could stay out here with you, if you wish. I'll bring us out some pillows and blankets if we get chilly."

"Darn," I muttered as all the apples I picked came crashing out of my hands, rolling along the small hill in the grass until they landed at Rachel's feet.

She giggled. "I'll bring you out a bucket, too. Do you want me to bring you pillows?"

I couldn't believe she would actually do that for me. "You'd do that, for me?"

"Of course!" she insisted. "I wouldn't want you to stay out here alone and get cold without even a way of carrying your apples back to your house."

"Thank you," I thanked with a polite smile. I was incredibly grateful right now and was even thinking over what it would be like to be best friends with Rachel Berry. It could work; we were getting along now.

"I'll be right back," said Rachel. "Just stay here. I'll be quiet."

I sat down cross-legged on the grass, and gathered the apples that I had dropped. I kept them in my lap, waiting patiently until Rachel returned.

Less than five minutes later, Rachel returned with four pillows, two large but fairly thin blankets, two bottles of water and a silver bucket.

"Two pillows each," she explained, dropping to her knees in front of me and placing the stuff down in between us. "A spare blanket in case we get cold, but it's summer so we'll probably be too hot with two. A bottle of water each and a bucket for your apples."

"Thank you," I said quietly, dropping the apples one by one into the bucket as carefully and as quietly as possible. Rachel handed me my pillows and we can began to set up our little sleeping area. We opted to sleep just behind the apple tree, out of sight and in what was possibly the most fascinating area of the garden.

"I'm really grateful for this," I whispered to her as we lay down, staring up at the stars. I had picked a few more apples, leaving a few left for Rachel's family on the tree. "You're amazing."

From the corner of my eye I saw Rachel's cheeks flush, and for some reason or another, I felt glad knowing I was the cause of that rosy redness glowing through her tanned skin.

"It's fine," she assured me. "And thank you. You are also amazing, Quinn Fabray. I would love to become good friends with you, that is, if you would like too."

I really would. "I'd love to," I promised Rachel. "There are only three more days left in school before summer vacation, so maybe we could do a lot of things together. Even if it's only camping out in your garden and picking apples."

"I would love that."

Sorry, Juliet and Robert. This will forever be the Applebaum garden, but still it's time for me to move on.

"Yeah. Me too."

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know if you would like me to continue the story, leave as a one shot, or write a sequel.