Professions

by skittles84

Tenth Installment. Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry have both gotten their big break; Quinn as the Co-Director of a small, but promising, movie and Rachel as the leading Co-Star. The drama, however, isn't all staying on the stage; and both have to decide wither to call "Action" or "Cut". Professions - Unscripted - Director/Actress

1. Chapters

As Rachel is losing herself in her favorite books, Quinn is feeling lost in a different way. Though they have never met, circumstances are about to change, and a new chapter in their lives is about to unfold. First installment of what may become a collection.

Professions - Chapters - Librarian/Author

Thank you for coming to check out this story. Chapters is an AU one-shot that I hope to make into a collection of 12 over the year (if there is enough interest). The stories would not be related other than all being Faberry and featuring them in different professions. I'm attempting to branch into writing 'smut' more competently, (why, I do not know, but it's what I seem to struggle with most) so if this one-shot goes well, then there may be many more to come.

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Chapters

Rachel sighed as she slipped her paperback copy of Lucy Lablanc's A Salty Shore into her purse. The library director did not approve of employees reading during their down time, which seemed a little bizarre, and she was having a hard time putting the book down. There had barely been enough light to read by on her walk to work and now she stood at the employee entrance to the Lima Public Library Building, crisp snow crunching as she approached the door. The brunette sighed again as she fished in her pocket for her keys; she was always the first employee to arrive and had been there the longest ten years, counting the year she did volunteer work during high school, so she knew the building as though it were her own home. The fluorescent lights hummed as she flipped every switch on her way to the employee lounge to clock in. The petite girl chirped a hello, which went unanswered as usual, as she collected the day's bulletins from the director's desk. Rachel missed their old director, Mr. Schuester, who had retired; most of her coworkers had assumed that when he stepped down, she would have been first in line, but the county had brought in their current director without even posting the position. It wasn't all bad; things certainly were more efficient now, if not a little impersonal, and late return books were now a thing of the past. Rachel continued flipping switches and opening blinds as she made her way to the front desk, leaving her coat and purse on her usual chair, and made her way to the main cork board marked Upcoming Events. The director came sprinting from her office when the brunette let out a high pitched squeal.

"Did that squirrel get back in here?" her boss shouted, holding a fly swatter over her head as though she were wielding a sword.

The brunette was briefly tempted to point the director off in several directions, but instead shrugged and shook her head.

"No," Rachel said sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I was just excited by an upcoming event. I'm really very sorry Miss Sylvester."

"This is a library, Berry," Sue scowled, "for Pete's sake pull yourself together. I assume it's our guest author for January. The one you've been wetting your panties over for, what is it, five books now?"

"I'm currently on book four," the brunette corrected instinctively before promising, "I'm deeply sorry, I didn't intend to startle you. I assure you it won't happen again."

"It'd better not," The director grumbled. "And stop talking like that. People come to a library to feel smart. What's the point if you're always sounding smarter than them?"

By the time Rachel had finished pinning up all the current events, Tina had arrived and was starting up the computer system and sorting book requests. The girl had been there nearly as long as the brunette; they didn't know each other well in high school, but they were very close now. The girl'd had a terrible stutter as a teen, which she still seemed to slip into whenever she had a particularly trying patron or spoke to the director, but it completely vanished when she talked to Rachel and most other people. The brunette waved hello as she made her way to the main entrance and unlocked the doors, her steps a little lighter than before.

Over the next few weeks, Rachel found herself less bothered by the pet peeves that came with working in a library: randomly moved and discarded books, the slings shot at her by her ill-tempered boss, patrons that asked inane questions like "how much does it cost to rent books here?" or "do you have books and stuff here?". She couldn't remember a time when she felt more excited, but as the final week drew closer, her excitement gave way to nervousness. The brunette couldn't help but imagine all the ways she might slip up or embarrass herself in front of her favorite author.

"Are you a librarian?" a blonde girl asked.

"Yes." Rachel tried to smile and not sound condescending.

"But you're not wearing glasses," the girl pointed out in a confused tone.

"What can I help you with?" The brunette sighed.

"Do you have computers?" the blonde asked. "I need to look up feline rehab facilities, but the laptop I got for Christmas turned out to be an aquarium."

Rachel glanced down at the sign on the desk that pointed to the computer room and then back to the girl, who didn't seem to be getting the hint, before snapping, "Right through there."

"Are you okay?" Tina asked.

"I'm fine," the brunette replied. "Really."

"You seem a little less cheerful this week," her friend continued.

"I'm just excited," the petite girl snapped again. "I'm sorry. Sue put me in charge of everything to do with this month's meet the author because quote 'I wouldn't touch those pre-stickied books with a ten foot pole' end quote. It just has me so worried that I'm going to mess up or embarrass myself somehow, not to mention the added work of it all. I'm so tired by time I get home, I'm barely able to accomplish anything. I'm even behind on reading A Slippery Slope. How can I possibly host the meet the author of Lucy Lablanc when I have been unable to finish her latest book?"

Rachel rested her head on the cool surface of the counter and sighed again.

"I can tell you how it ends," her coworker suggested.

"Don't you dare!" the brunette squeaked, earning her a loud shush from the director's office. "Besides, I didn't think you read her books."

"Not since half way through her second one, A Sultry Summer," Tina quipped. "But I can still tell you how it ends."

With that, her coworker took a deep breath and batted her eyes comically before speaking in the wispiest voice she could muster. "Brittany wiped off and forced her legs back together; she looked back at Bertrand, her breast still heaving from their lusty afternoon, but she knew in her heart this was not where she was meant to be."

"I'm perfectly aware that you are not a fan," Rachel tried unsuccessfully to shush her friend.

"Perhaps her passions lie with Hugo, the strapping young artist from Venezuela, or between the thighs of Tristan, the dark and brooding dock working she met in London all those years ago. Her loins compelled her…" Tina continued gleefully.

"If you're not going to be helpful, I'm done talking to you," the brunette said briskly, standing up to walk away. "I have work to do."

"Wait!" Her friend giggled. "Don't you want to hear more about her loins?"

"Shush," Rachel pleaded. "This is a library."

"I want to hear more about her loins," the blonde from before suddenly spoke.

Rachel couldn't help but laugh at the look of panic on Tina's face as she walked away. She could already hear the girl stammering an apology; no matter how many times the brunette had tried to explain the subplots and higher points of the books to her friends, no one seemed to understand what she was talking about. It was true the series could be classified as trashy romance novels, but the girl felt there was so much more to the novels that no one else seemed to be picking up. Lablanc was trying to say more, she was sure of it.

---

Quinn paused at the large double doors of the Lima Public Library Building and took a deep breath. It was only the third stop on the tour her manager had set up—more insisted on—and she was already weary of the whole ordeal. The blonde was tired of the traveling, and fans, and being Lucy Lablanc—almost as tired of the tour as she was of writing the series altogether.

Jess held the door open for her and motioned her in. "Time is money."

Quinn was tired of hearing that as well; it seemed to be his motto, and he always seemed to say it just when she was about to collect herself and be settled again.

"And watch your eyes this time," he grumbled in her ear as she passed. "We don't roll our eyes at our number one fans—no matter how inane they are."

He was referring to a particularly annoying fan at the last stop, who had squealed nearly nonstop through her entire speech and looked as though she might very well piss her very expensive designer leggings when Quinn had signed her book. The girl hadn't moved forward after the book was signed, but had instead plopped a large stack of twenties on the table and began explaining how much it would mean to her to be cameo-ed in the next book. Her manager had kissed up to her as though she were a Hollywood starlet and had assured her it would be Miss Lablanc's honor to have such a classic character to brighten the background somewhere in the next novel. Maybe Miss Lablanc would, but Quinn Fabray certainly wouldn't.

"How am I supposed to watch my eyes, Jesse?" the blonde joked. "What am I watching them with exactly?"

"How about you watch them with your paycheck, my dear?" he retorted smoothly.

"Just mine or will yours be watching as well?" Quinn sighed.

"Mine is always watching, Lucy dear." Jesse laughed. "Now it's show time. Smile."

Quinn braced herself as a petite brunette approached them with a large beaming smile, followed by an older blonde woman whose face reflected about the way she felt right now, and put on a soft and sincere looking smile.

"Welcome, Miss Lablanc," the young woman said brightly. "I hope your trip here was pleasant. My name is Rachel Berry, I'll be your host for the event, and this is our library director, Sue Sylvester. We are so pleased that you chose the Lima Public Library as part of your tour. Is there anything I can get you? We have bottled water at your table and podium, but I could get you some juice, tea, coffee, or anything else you might need from our café."

"And I'm Jesse St. James, her manager. Miss Lablanc is fine; we always bring our own extras with us," Jesse assured her as he held up a small travel case and a hanging garment bag. "If you could direct us to a place for her to change?"

"Oh," Rachel cleared her throat, "I'm sorry; I assumed you were already—I mean you both look so professional already. There is a large bathroom on the second floor."

"Follow me; Miss Berry will double check everything down here," Sue interrupted tersely.

"Better make that triple check," Jesse said offhandedly. "We wouldn't want any little oversight to ruin this day for Miss Lablanc's valued fans."

"Let me know if you need anything else, Miss Lablanc," The brunette said softly, obviously a little embarrassed.

"Lucy is fine," Quinn smiled at her as she whispered, "and thank you."

Quinn watched the girl blush and shuffled off to do as Mr. St. James had ordered; she followed her manager, who seemed to be exchanging tips on how to instill fear into ones underlings, as they headed for the bathroom. He seemed to pick one person at each stop to go extra hard on, human management is what he called it, but this was the first time it had irritated her. The blonde followed them silently into the bathroom and took the garment bag from him with a sigh.

"I'll wait outside to be sure no one disturbs you," Miss Sylvester announced as she left the room.

"Was that really necessary?" the blonde asked as she unzipped the bag.

"Everything I do is necessary, Lucy." Jesse replied.

"Quinn," she snapped.

"Not for another few hours or so you're not," he answered sternly.

He zipped up her dress and checked his watch. "About ten more minutes should do it."

"Why do we go through this every time?" Quinn groaned.

"To keep them guessing," Jesse pointed out. "Writers are particular creatures, everyone knows that, but since you have no interesting quirks to market, we have to let them come up with whatever bizarre ritual you might be undertaking to prepare. It gives you mystery."

"I just want a cup of coffee," the blonde groaned.

"Nonsense," Jesse chuckled, as he emptied a bottle down the sink and tossed it into the trashcan, "there's nothing romantic about coffee. You drink rose water."

Quinn rolled her eyes and grabbed his thermos from the edge of the sink and chugged, glad that the beverage wasn't scalding, "No one is going to hunt through the trash up here to see if I threw anything away. Honestly, I don't know what I pay you for."

"Well, I do, so you don't have to worry about it," He said smoothly.

The blonde closed her eyes for a few minutes and wondered why her publishers ever assigned Jesse St. James as her manager; perhaps they too thought she needed someone to make her play the part—or maybe he was just as pushy with them as he was with everyone else. At any rate, she knew she shouldn't complain; her sales were unheard of for her kind of stories. At least he did a good job of honoring the fact that she wanted her penname and personal life kept separate. He insisted on handling every interview personally and because he controlled the life and times of Lucy Lablanc, Quinn Fabray was free to be herself in private, without having to keep all the details straight. Though she wasn't crazy about him insinuating in the last interview that romance was growing between writer and manager, it didn't really seem to matter in the grand scheme of things; she was a private, solitary person and had long since become fed up with romance after high school. Love was never the way it should be; maybe that was why she had started writing romance novels in the first place.

Quinn had never expected to publish anything to be honest; it had simply been an assignment in a writing class at college. It was required to send in one piece from the semester's writings to a publisher. She hadn't expected an acceptance letter or a deal to write more for the company she had randomly selected. Six years later, here she was—a somewhat success story that she had never intended, on the road pressing the flesh for more book sales. Truthfully, the young blonde had been thrilled at first, until her manager and publishers started turning down her other ideas and pressing her to continue the Brittany Pierce series. The possibilities could have been endless, but now she felt smothered by success, trapped in her own franchise. It would be another year before her contract came back up for negotiation and she could try to convince them to let her work with another genre; until then, she still owed them one more book.

"That ought to put us just enough behind schedule," Jesse chimed as he tapped lightly at the door, mussing his hair a little as he did so.

"It's about time," the director commented as they emerged.

The library was already filling up as her manager guided her through the crowded isles to the conference room.

"It's quite the turn out," the brunette from before bubbled excitedly. "I don't believe I've ever seen so many people in the library at one time before."

"Let's not keep them waiting—Ruth?" Jesse said sharply to the girl. "Time is money."

"Rachel," she corrected shyly, her cheeks turning pink once again. "Of course, you're right."

Her manager flinched as she reached forward and pinched his arm just above the elbow quickly; he shot the blonde a confused glance.

"Oh sorry, darling," Quinn said, batting her eyes. "I'm just a little nervous I guess."

The brunette led them to the front of the room and gave an eloquent introduction before turning the podium over to Jesse St. James. The blonde focused on the character he had created for her to play as he thanked everyone for a lovely turn out and covered the history of the book series, leading up to the current book, A Slippery Slope. Then it was Quinn's turn to speak, at length, about what inspired her to write the series and give details that she had been told readers like to hear about the writing process of the latest addition. The blonde excelled at this portion of the events; people always seemed interested in her and she carried herself well in public, and the information was memorized in advance. What she dreaded was what came next. The question and answer segment of the evening; it was so unscripted and random—sometimes downright insulting.

"Now Miss Lucy Lablanc would like to hear some of your thoughts and questions," Jesse said smoothly as he stood next to her at the podium. "Afterwards, she will be happy to sign your books for you."

Several hands shot up at once and her manager selected a blonde from the front row to be the first.

"I actually just started reading the books," the blonde admitted. "Because until last week I didn't know about them."

"Well, that's wonderful, we have a new reader." Jesse smiled.

"My name is Brittany Pierce," the blonde said. "And normally I wouldn't like people writing a bunch of stuff about me without me knowing, but I like the way you don't make me sound stupid all the time."

Many of the people in the room began to giggle and Quinn could practically hear her manager's brain turning over what to do in response.

"Also, you've totally captured how awesome I am in bed so it's totally cool," the girl said proudly.

For once Jesse seemed to be at a loss for words as the girl sat back down and Quinn smirked a little as she leaned into the microphone.

"I'm glad you're enjoying the books, Brittany, and I certainly hope no one in your life makes you feel stupid," she began. "I'll try to keep the character up to your standards and hope you keep reading."

"But of course," her manager added. "The character's name being the same as yours is a coincidence, but we are all glad that you feel proud to share the name and spirit of the girl in the novels. That's what these stories are all about; empowering women who aren't afraid to be open and take chances."

"You mean sluts don't you?" a voice called from the back of the room.

There was always one or two of these at each event, hecklers, but they were usually rigid looking women; this one was a young man, his arms crossed loosely as he leaned against the door frame with a satisfied smirk on his face, and it struck Quinn as odd.

"Isn't that all she is?" he continued. "A desperate, depraved, woman who travels the world spreading god knows what?"

"The character, sir," Jesse began.

"Now I hadn't even started talking about the character yet," the boy said coolly.

"This event is for fans of the author," Rachel snapped boldly as she stood up.

"Your bulletin says it's open to all patrons," he pointed out with a satisfied smile.

"But your manner is very—" the brunette began before her director silenced her with a wave.

"Let me see your library card," Sue chimed in, looking amused, as she stepped up to the heckler.

"Well, there you've got me I suppose." The boy shrugged.

"Well let's take care of that," the director said as she guided the boy to the front desk. "After we get this sorted out we can have our own meeting; I'd love to hear more of what you have to say, myself."

Without missing a beat Jesse selected another audience member to move things along.

"Will Brittany finally find love in the next book?" the young girl asked shyly. "True love, I mean."

"What's your name, dear?" her manager asked in a charming voice.

"Marley." The girl blushed.

Quinn was shocked that girls as young as this one were reading her books; she looked so innocent. Truthfully, the girl looked like she wouldn't be able to read any of the novels without covering her eyes every few pages.

"I'm not at liberty to disclose any detail as big as that," Quinn answered gently. "I can say that it's always been my plan to, at some point, let her find something that lasts."

"But if we told you who, when, and how, we would ruin everyone's fun," Jesse added with a well staged glance to the blonde. "You miss, in the pink dress."

"My name's Mercedes Jones and I was wondering how come she's only been with one brotha out of all the men in five books?" the brightly dressed woman asked. "Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan, but come on, Reginald? I ain't never met no homeboy with a name like that."

Quinn smiled sweetly; she'd been coached on this question several times so it was an easy answer.

"I write from experience, and more often the experience of my friends, so while the books are absolutely fictional, the inspiration for the people usually come from real life," she lied coolly. "As for the names, like many things in the books, they get changed to heighten the romanticism or fit the particular situation and setting of the story."

The truth was, her publishers often sent back her drafts with notes mandating that a character's race, ethnicity, even religion be changed to suit whatever was currently trending. The blonde usually selected the names at random; it was simply less work to leave the name as is than for her to hunt down every Reginald she had typed out and switch it.

"But let's be honest," Mercedes continued. "We all know that in the end, she's gonna end up with some white bread millionaire."

"I think it will be Brice from the first book," someone else called from the other side of the room.

"I promise you," Jesse interjected. "That when the time comes, who she finally falls for will surprise you."

It baffled the blonde that he spoke about the next book as though it were finished; she hadn't even begun working on it yet. Then again, it almost seemed like he would end up with more say in what happened by the time it was printed and on book store shelves. She smiled and thanked the woman for her questions and observations.

After many more tedious questions came the book signing. The blonde wished she could simply rubberstamp her way through it, but her manager insisted it be by hand—in quill and ink, nonetheless. Her cheeks were beginning to ache and her wrist wasn't fairing much better. A doctor had suggested a wrist brace for events like this, but her manager wouldn't hear of it. Quinn let out a little laugh as she imagined Jesse grumbling over the brace not matching her dress. Finally, the signing drew to a close and the library was shutting down; the blonde stood up and stretched, rolling her wrist in slow circles to loosen it back up.

"I'll be right back," Jesse called out. "I just have to make a quick call to the airline about our flight."

"I'll be right here." Quinn sighed.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she dropped her smile and let out a long repressed groan.

"Miss Lablanc? I mean, Lucy," a small voice sounded behind her.

"Oh, Rachel," she gasped, standing up straight again and instinctively forcing a smile, "I didn't realize you were still here."

"Well, I will be cleaning up after the event," the brunette explained. "I was wondering, if you're not too tired, of course—it's simply that as host and an employee I wasn't aloud to request and autograph during—if you don't mind?"

"Oh." The blonde nodded. "No problem; hand it over and I'll scribble away."

A huge smile spread across the girl's face. "Oh! Thank you. Just one minute."

Quinn watched her rush across the room and dig through a book bag and return with what appeared to be a magazine.

"You want me to sign a magazine?" she asked quizzically.

"It's your publisher's biyearly journal," Rachel corrected as she flipped through the journal. "It's your first published story. I, um, borrowed it from periodicals, but the replacement is paid for and on the way, I promise."

"Oh," Quinn said, blinking down at the page. "This would be the little scribble that started it all."

"I think it's a bit more than merely a little scribble," the brunette said seriously. "It was a very introspective piece about the goals we set for ourselves when we leave home as well as the fears and pressures we carry over with us from high school to college."

"You got all that from a five page story?" the blonde asked as she handed back the now signed publication.

Rachel nodded. "I'm sorry; you must be tired of talking about your work after all this today."

"It's fine." She shrugged.

"I have to admit, I was rather disappointed in our audience today," the brunette commented.

"I'm used to people like him," Quinn assured her.

"Not him," Rachel gasped, "don't even get me started on how rude and obnoxious he was. I was referring to the questions everyone else asked. They were nearly all about what is going to happen, and after all, how could you answer any of that without ruining the book for everyone? Or nitpicking little details about the men she dates. No one had anything to say about the subtler details of your stories."

"Like?" the blonde asked with an amused smile.

"Like the themes you have been following in each book. The character's journey into womanhood, not the standard milestones like age or sexual activity, but the subtle ways she is maturing and learning how to be who she is," Rachel spoke quickly. "Between the—bedroom scenes—there is a lot going on with Brittany; things that are showing how she is growing into true adulthood as both a woman and a person."

"Huh." Quinn smiled. "I actually pretty much assume that everyone skims past all that to the steamy bits."

"There are some forums online, so I know I'm not the only one who doesn't," the brunette sighed, "but no one around here seems to see it. Most of my friends either won't read them or won't admit that they do."

Quinn began packing away her quill and ink bottle, still listening to the girl chatter about some of her favorite moments from the books. She was very impressed and flattered that someone saw her books as more than just smut; admittedly there were times when she herself didn't see them as anything more than that. The blonde still loved writing, but she wished she had the freedom she had back when she was only writing for fun or for her friends to read. When she had everything back in the travel case, she began following the girl around the room and trying to help pick up the random debris, much to the little brunette's surprise.

"This is unacceptable!" Jesse bellowed into his cell as he burst through the conference room door. "I expect our tickets to be refunded immediately and new tickets on the absolute soonest flight to be at half price."

Rachel rushed back to the chair her book bag was rested on and slid the journal inside, then began clearing things more quickly. Quinn flagged her down and tried to assure her she didn't need to worry about her manager's temper. The brunette was still trying to straighten chairs while Jesse paced around angrily, still yelling into his phone, and generally disrupting a chair for every seat the girl adjusted. The blonde sighed and walked towards the door, motioning for the brunette to follow her.

"He gets a little intense when his plans get changed," she said apologetically once they were in the main hall.

They could see the snow pouring down thickly through the glass of the double doors.

"It certainly sounds like he is quite unhappy with your airline," Rachel breathed.

"Heaven forbid we get delayed and I get a few hours sleep down here on the ground." The blonde smiled.

"If you do get delayed, I know an exceptionally nice hotel that would probably give you a discount," the brunette volunteered. "I'll write down all the information; just a moment."

Rachel walked over to the main desk and began printing out the information in neat, delicate handwriting. Quinn leaned against the counter and watched as she finished copying out the directions, name, and phone number. The brunette finished and held the paper out to her.

"A good friend of mine is the manager," the girl added. "Simply ask for Kurt Hummel and tell him that Rachel Berry said to give you the very best room he has."

"Maybe you should write down your number or email," Quinn suddenly said. "In case he needs proof."

The brunette looked shocked; the blonde wasn't sure why she had just said that, but it was already out there and she didn't see any point in taking it back now. She wasn't even sure she wanted to take it back. The brunette's brown eyes were still open wide in shock when she set the paper down and quickly scrawled out her name and number in the same neat and tidy handwriting, though the letters of the email she listed looked a little shaky.

"Thanks." Quinn smiled as she tucked the paper into her pocket.

The conference room door slammed again and Jesse came over to them, his face a little red, carrying their things. Without pause, he looped his arm through Quinn's and shuffled her towards the door. Rachel hurried over to the entrance and unlocked the door to let them out while Jesse helped her into her coat; the brunette waved a silent goodbye that the blonde returned with a sad looking nod as she was rushed out into the snow.

---

As Rachel finished vacuuming the conference room, her mind was still trying to wrap itself around the idea that Lucy Lablanc had asked for her number and email. Maybe it was something the writer always did with the host of her events or maybe she had gotten confused and forgot that she wasn't the director. It didn't seem like the blonde had been confused when she asked, though; the way she said it sounded so friendly and warm.

From the conference room, she could hear the director laughing in her office; the woman never seemed to leave the library, even though her house was less than a block away, but it felt like Miss Sylvester had decided to take up permanent residence in the building. The exhausted girl wound up the cord and tucked the vacuum cleaner back into its little closet and began straightening the chairs. She folded up the seats that were going back in storage, but couldn't find the dolly to move them with. The brunette carried as many as she could at a time to the storage room, behind the main desk and was sure she heard another voice coming out of the director's office.

"Now she's entertaining guests here as well." Rachel sighed as she crossed the hall to get a quick drink from the water fountain.

The brunette instinctively ducked behind a nearby stack as her director emerged from the hallway.

"Well it's been a real pleasure bashing today's current author with you, young man," Sue addressed her company.

"Anytime." The man from before smiled. "Good entertainment is so hard to come by these days."

The boy shot Rachel a quick look and smirked.

"So is good help," he said offhandedly

"Don't I know it, Sebastian," the director agreed, not noticing his glance. "But you've got to have someone to lick your boots or you'd have to clean them yourself."

"Agreed." Sebastian nodded. "Thanks for the library card. Next time I'll be free to stick around for some more public fun."

The director followed him to the door and locked it behind him. Rachel quietly made her way back to the conference room.

"You still here, Berry?" Sue called.

"Just finishing up," Rachel assured her. "I won't be much longer."

"Pick up the pace; you aren't paying rent here," the woman snapped as she flipped the main hall light off and headed back to her office.

Rachel fumbled in the dark for the switch and rushed with the last of the chairs and then hurried back to collect her bag and coat. The brunette wasn't surprised their flight had been delayed; she had noticed the snow blowing past the windows throughout most of the meet the author. She was glad that she always walked to work; even though the walk home would be cold, it was much safer than trying to drive in this weather. The brunette had just slipped on her mittens when her phone began to ring. The screen flashed with the name of the hotel and Rachel assumed it must be Kurt calling to check in on her. She bit down on the mitten and pulled her hand free.

"Hello," she said, mitten still in mouth, making a goofy voice she used solely to annoy her best friend.

"I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong number; is this Rachel Berry?" a female voice stammered.

The mitten dropped out of her mouth as she began blushing. "Yes, this is Rachel Berry."

"Hi., The voice continued. "It's Qu…Lucy. Lablanc."

She almost dropped the phone as she inwardly cursed for making a fool of herself after doing so well all day.

"Oh my gosh," Rachel stammered. "Miss La…Lucy. I didn't expect to hear from you. So soon, I mean."

"I just wanted to thank you for the tip. This place is gorgeous and he did give us the discount," Quinn said over the phone.

"I'm glad," Rachel replied.

"Did I get you at a bad time? You're not driving home right now are you? It's really coming down outside," The blonde asked.

"No, I'm still at the library; I'm about to leave, though." Rachel breathed, unable to fully process who she was actually speaking to.

"I know you must be exhausted," Quinn sighed, "but I was wondering if, well, if you would like to come over for a bit?"

"I'd love to!" Rachel exclaimed. "Do you need anything? I mean, while I'm on the way?"

"No. Thank you." Quinn said quickly.

"Why?" she blurted out. "Do you want me to come over, I mean?"

There was a long pause before an answer came. "I don't know. Jesse's out at the airport trying to force some kind of deal and I've just never liked being in strange places alone. You just seemed, well, like you didn't really get to enjoy the meeting today. To be honest, you're a lot less lame than all the other fans who got to enjoy it."

"I'll be there in 20 minutes or so," Rachel said in a daze. "Room 218?"

"How'd you know?" Quinn asked.

"Because that's the best room and Kurt would never disappoint me." The brunette laughed.

"Okay." The other girl giggled.

"So," she murmured. "I'll be there soon. Bye."

"Bye." Quinn sighed.

Rachel hung up and bent down to retrieve her mitten; her cell went off again, and this time the number wasn't one she recognized.

"Hello, Rachel Berry speaking," she said cautiously.

"Are you sure I'm not keeping you from anything important?" Quinn asked again. "I feel weird asking you to come all the way out here after you've worked all day."

"Not at all," the brunette said cheerfully. "I have tomorrow off anyway."

"Okay," the blonde said happily. "Bye."

"See you soon—bye," Rachel said softly.

The brunette stood for a minute as though she expected the phone to ring again as she buttoned up her coat. Then she made a quick call to a taxi service and hurried to the break room to clock out. The snow was still pouring down as she stood on the sidewalk under a light post. It was taking a bit longer for the cab to arrive than she had expected and she was beginning to wonder if she should call to let the other girl know she would be later than planned. The thought seemed so odd to her and now, watching her breath make little silver clouds amid the thickly pouring snowflakes; it was beginning to feel like this might be a dream. While she was deciding if it was worth pulling off her gloves to call, the cab pulled up and she hopped inside, grateful for the warmth, and told the driver the destination. It was a quick ride and she paid the driver as fast as she could and dashed into the hotel.

"Rachel!" Kurt called from the front desk. "What an unexpected visit!"

"Hello, Kurt," she smiled, "actually I'm here to—"

"Stalk your favorite author?" he finished, giving her a serious look.

"No," the brunette sputtered. "I'm just—"

"Planning to sneak into her room and 'borrow' the manuscript for the next book?" he whispered. "Because I will absolutely help you; I have a master key."

"Kurt, please be serious," Rachel pleaded. "I don't know why it happened, but Miss Lablanc has actually personally invited me to visit."

"You're not serious!" He gasped.

"I am, as a matter of fact," the petite girl said proudly. "So if you'll excuse me, I'm off to replace you."

She said the last part with a quick wink and he pantomimed a look of hurt and abandonment that made her laugh out loud.

"You could never replace me," Kurt pointed out. "I checked her in; she might be famous, but I have her beat in the style and flare department. I'm prettier too."

Rachel laughed again as she waved to him and took the stairs to the second floor. Room 218 was at the end of the hall and was the largest room in the entire hotel; it had the best view and the finest furnishings. Rachel had always imagined that if she was ever to find someone special enough, that would be the room where they would share their first night together.

She knocked at the door and the blonde opened it all the way; the brunette's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the woman toweling her damp hair and wrapped up in a bath robe.

"Sorry, I tired to make it a quick shower so I would have time to get dressed," the blonde blushed, "but it's been a long week and the shower in there is amazing."

"That's alright," Rachel assured her. "I was going to apologize for taking so long getting here, but now I feel guilty that you rushed your shower."

"Don't worry about it." Quinn smiled. "I'm the one who called you out here and probably disrupted your night."

"Not at all," the brunette smiled, "I didn't have any plans."

"No plans sounds nice." the blonde sighed. "I'm all planned out for the next few months."

"That sounds stressful," Rachel commented as she closed the door behind her and stood awkwardly in the little entranceway."

"I shouldn't complain." Quinn shrugged. "Just sit anywhere."

Rachel sat her bag on the little round table in front of the window and unbuttoned her coat, depositing it on top of the bag as she took a seat. The blonde stretched out on the bed and tuned the radio until she found a station playing light jazz and turned the volume down low. They sat in silence for a few minutes and the brunette found herself nervously glancing around the room to keep herself from staring at the other girl. She could feel the girl's hazel eyes on her, but she was suddenly in a rare situation where she was at a loss for words.

"So you really do drink rose water," Rachel commented, nodding to a large case of pink tinted bottles.

"I tried a sip once and hated it," Quinn answered honestly. "The manager says it makes me sound more romantic."

"I hated it too," the brunette admitted sheepishly. "I like it fine as a flavoring in some dishes, but not drinking it straight."

Rachel felt a little foolish admitting she had tired the drink after reading about the writer drinking it.

"I wonder how many lonely hearts out there are chugging rose water in my name," Quinn mused. The blonde glanced at her and quickly ducked her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean you."

"No offence taken." Rachel smiled before falling silent once again.

The petite girl squirmed a little in her chair and pulled a tie out from underneath herself.

"Oh, I didn't see this when I sat down," she said apologetically.

"Jesse can be a real slob when he's pissed off." The blonde shrugged.

"It must be nice, though, to get to travel to all these places with him while you write," the brunette ventured.

Quinn laughed. "What?"

"Since you two are," Rachel said cautiously. "I read online that you two were—"

"We're not together." Quinn physically shuddered. "Again, he says it's romantic."

"Does he just lie about everything?" the brunette asked.

"Yep," the blonde sighed, "he's a lying ass."

"Lucy!" She gapsed, instinctively chastised the sudden language.

"About that, too," the author said with a wide smile.

"About what?" Rachel asked.

The blonde beckoned her closer and whispered, "My real name is Quinn."

"Quinn?" the brunette repeated.

"Quinn Fabray." She sighed. "God it feels good to hear someone say my real name. It's been two days. Lucy Lablanc is my penname and a character Jesse has developed."

Rachel blinked a few times as the blonde rested against the headboard and looked at her with amusement.

"Well I think Quinn is a wonderful name." The brunette shrugged. "Why would he make you use a penname?"

"Oh, the penname was my idea," Quinn corrected. "At the time I didn't want my parents to see my name on some trashy romance cover and be embarrassed. It worked out though; I'm a pretty private person, and I don't think I would handle people showing up at my house for autographs."

"I can understand that." Rachel nodded. "Why would your parents be embarrassed?"

"Are you kidding?" The blonde laughed. "Would you talk to your mom about half the stuff in my books?"

The brunette blushed. "I suppose not. Though I don't know my mother; I was raised by my fathers."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up anything painful." The blonde sighed.

"Oh no, it's fine; I wonder sometimes of course, but I love my daddies," Rachel assured her.

Quinn smiled and continued, "Turns out I was worried about nothing. One day my mom calls me on the phone to suggest a book she thinks I should read, A Silky Sea—it was awful."

"How is that awful?" Rachel girl giggled. "Your mother being proud of your work is a good thing, right?"

The blonde's face grew serious and her hazel eyes narrowed. "She started reading me a scene right over the phone. I thought I might be sick."

"It couldn't have been that bad," Rachel objected.

"Brittany and Maxwell's 'farewell' scene?" The blonde arched an eyebrow as she whispered the words.

"Oh my," the brunette giggled, "you win. I don't think I could handle one of my father's reading that out loud."

There was another short silence after their laughter subsided. Rachel couldn't quite believe how natural it felt to just sit and talk with the author, perched on the edge of the bed, with the blonde curled up in a sitting position against the headboard. It didn't feel at all like they had only met today; the woman was so down to earth and natural—nothing like the articles painted her.

"I can see why you would keep the penname," the girl said. "But why put on this whole persona?"

"It's what sells." Quinn shrugged. "Jesse and the publishers say the character of the author is just as important as the character they write."

The blonde laughed a little at the look of shock on Rachel's face.

"I'm lucky," She insisted. "Except for having to play the part for things like today, they take care of everything."

"I can't believe they do that, though." Rachel sighed. "It seems so disrespectful to you as a professional."

The blonde had a sly smile on her face as she spoke again. "Have you read any of Blaine Anderson's books?"

"Not personally," Rachel answered. "But Kurt absolutely adores him."

"You know the picture on the back of the dust jacket?" Quinn continued suggestively.

"You don't mean!" the brunette sputtered. "But we hosted him last year at the library; it was him, he looks just like his picture. You're not saying they made him have some sort of plastic surgery."

"I'm saying it's not him at all; Blaine Anderson is a penname. The man you hosted does all the photo shoots and interviews and book signings," the blonde explained.

"But why?" The shocked girl gasped.

"Several reasons." Quinn sighed. "the real author isn't fully out of the closet. Can you keep a secret?"

"Absolutely," Rachel said seriously. "I promise."

"Was there a security guard with them when you hosted?" Quinn continued and the librarian nodded. "That's the real author—guard Karofsky; his manager feels Blaine more appropriately fits the part."

"That's simply absurd." Rachel huffed. "They treat you all like little dolls."

"But it sells." Quinn shrugged. "Probably better than if I went up there as myself and anyway, it's what we agree to when we sign the contract. I knew what I was getting myself into."

"Nonsense," the brunette insisted. "There is nothing wrong with the person I am speaking to right now."

"I wouldn't buy a book from me," the blonde admitted.

"Well," Rachel said clearly, looking the blonde straight in the eye. "I like Quinn Fabray every bit as much as I liked Lucy Lablanc, actually more to be completely honest. You're an inspiration. A real person with real feelings and you're not afraid to laugh at yourself a little. People need a role model like that. Of course I understand you wanting to protect your privacy, but I think your manager is being a fool not to see how special you are without all the needless bells and whistles. I understand theatricality and it has its place, but I truly think that you're—"

The blonde's lips were suddenly against hers; Rachel's mind went blank as the warm feeling of the other girl's tongue traced across her bottom lip. The brunette parted her lips slightly and their tongues grazed.

"I'm sorry," Quinn mumbled, pulling away slightly. "I don't know why—was that alright?"

"Mmmhhmmm," was all Rachel could seem to utter a she sat there dazed.

"I can't believe I just—" the blonde began.

Rachel, without thinking, latched back on to the woman's lips again and Quinn's arms wrapped around her, pulling her a little father onto the bed. The brunette had sometimes had fantasies about women, but she'd never been in a situation like this. She'd dated exactly one boy in high school, and one boy at community college, which barely counted because the last one had never become physical. Since then, she'd had a series of first dates, usually set up by friends, which never seemed to go anywhere. This was becoming physical quickly. The blonde's fingers were tangled in Rachel's dark hair, holding their faces close together, as their tongues connected. It seemed like Quinn was afraid that the brunette was going to bolt at any moment, which she felt was absurd; the petite girl wasn't even sure her legs could function right now.

Rachel's hand trembled slightly as she brushed a few damp strands of blonde hair from the back of the woman's neck and she felt goose bumps spring up along Quinn's soft skin. The brunette leaned back as the author released her grip on her hair, and she tugged the long sweater off. The pink tank top she wore underneath rolled up as the wooly fabric of the sweater drug away, exposing her midsection. The blonde was already slipping the soft pink garment over the librarian's head as she deposited the sweater on the floor and soon the camisole was deposited on top of the grey knitted garment. Rachel slid lightly onto her feet and began working her shoes off as the blonde stroked her arms and sides, sending ticklish sensations racing all over the brunette's body. A grey and pink plaid bra was all that covered Rachel's top half and Quinn looped her fingers under the straps and pulled her back into a kiss. The blonde moaned into Rachel's mouth as she slid a warm hand into the other woman's bathrobe and grazed her breast timidly. The brunette's free hand tugged gently at the belt holding the terrycloth robe closed and slid it around the Quinn's waist.

She half expected to wake up at any moment; part of her was waiting to hear the irritating buzz of the alarm clock any minute now. All Rachel did hear was the sound of her heart beating loud and fast in her ears. The brunette blinked as Quinn drew back again, lightly nipping her lower lip as she ended the kiss, and slid the robe off her shoulders. This was all moving so fast. She couldn't believe it; she'd never been like this with anyone. She had always been so careful and reserved about sex. Now, as the blonde reached around behind her and unhooked her bra, she pushed all her thoughts of caution and boundaries away. It felt right—it felt good.

"I need out," Rachel stammered and Quinn froze, bra still dangling in her right hand.

Quinn had a look of panic on her face and the brunette fidgeted with the waistband of her leggings. "Of these."

Quinn smiled and laid back, watching her as she slid out of the black leggings and deposited them on top of the rest of her clothes, and let the robe fall all the way open on the bed. When the blonde pushed herself back up, she allowed her arms to slide free of the plush sleeves and she looked the girl up and down with another smile. The brunette reached back and pulled out the clip that had been holding her hair back and her dark hair, slightly tangled from the day, fell across her shoulders. Rachel's panties, which matched her bra, were all that was left on as she crawled onto the bed and continued kissing Quinn. The blonde began trailing kisses from her lips to the brunette's earlobe, where she paused and then gave it a light graze of her teeth.

"Rachel," she breathed, barely above a whisper, as she trailed her fingers lightly down the girl's neck and over her breast.

"Hhmm." The brunette sighed as she relished the humming feeling of her skin under the blonde's warm hand.

"Can you say my name? Please," The woman asked before sliding her tongue down the girl's neck and sucking lightly.

"Quinn," she crooned into the blonde's ear as she ran her fingers down the length of Quinn's spine and back up, noting the perfectly smooth texture of the girl's peachy skin.

Rachel gasped as Quinn responded with an increase of pressure against her neck and a light squeeze of her breast; the blonde ran her thumb over the brunette's nipple as she pressed her gently down on the bed. Rachel's heart skipped a beat as the blonde straddled her and looked down, the author's hazel eyes locking with her own, and she reached up to cup the woman's breasts with both hands. Quinn's head rolled back as she let out an excited gasp and gripped the brunette's wrists lightly. The blonde slid her hands down the length of Rachel's arms as she leaned over her and began kissing her neck once again. The brunette continued to massage the woman's breasts as the blonde began to slowly inch her mouth down towards her nipples. The brunette squirmed a little bit as Quinn's mouth closed around one of her sensitive peaks.

"Is that okay?" She whispered.

"Yeah, it's fine." She sighed. "It's good."

Quinn gave her a sly smile and teased her nipple with her tongue; Rachel arched her back and let out a soft moan. The blonde's rosy peaks were hard and arched and the brunette gently pressed the rigid buds and smiled as it elicited a loud response from the woman; her moan vibrated against her breast, turning her on all the more. She released one of the blonde's voluptuous breasts and used her arm to lift herself up slightly; the woman shifted to allow her to capture one of her nipples lightly between her teeth. Quinn panted and leaned back, pulling Rachel up into a sitting position, as she continued to gasp excitedly. The brunette could feel Quinn's hand tangle into her hair once more as she sucked roughly at the blonde's flushed nub. Quinn was practically vibrating and Rachel could feel the woman's heartbeat throbbing against her lips; the bare flesh at the apex of the blonde's legs was pressed against her thigh, just above the knee, and she could feel her heat.

The blonde's hand slid down around her back and traced lightly over the small of the brunette's back before slipping eagerly over her bottom. The author played with the soft fabric of the petite girl's panties, snapping the elastic playfully, before gripping the bare skin of cheek. The brunette returned the favor giving the blonde's nipple a few quick flicks with her tongue before quickly moving her hands and gripping her butt as well. Quinn giggled and snapped her underwear again before pushing her back down on the bed; Rachel could feel the warmth spreading over her entire body and she let out an excited little laugh as the blonde tugged at the only piece of clothing left on her. The woman's center slid over the brunette's knee as she slipped the panties off and she let out a pleased little gasp. The blonde deposited the garment on top of the pile of discarded clothing and slowly trailed her fingers up the brunette's leg, pausing for a moment at the soft flesh of her thigh, and Rachel let out a punctuated sigh.

Rachel turned her head into the pillow as Quinn gently grazed her soft center, feeling the smooth slickness of her. The brunette panted as the now constant throb grew and intensified into a heartbeat all its own; the writers fingers circled her delicate flesh, directing her breathing in slow, gentle, waves. With every moan and heated breath, the blonde seemed to study her, as though unsure of whether she were causing pleasure or pain.

"It's amazing, Quinn," Rachel said with a ragged sigh. "Don't stop."

Quinn adjusted the girl's short and shapely legs and knelt between them, rocking slightly as she inserted a finger timidly into her hot, wet center, before leaning back over her, resting her blonde locks on Rachel's stomach, and placing a tender kiss on the girl's bellybutton. The brunette uttered a sharp gasp and a moan as she slid her finger back and forth, slowly adding another finger as she quickened the pace. Her voice hitched and pitched as her body trembled and shuddered, her nerve endings practically singing as the warm sensation continued to build. Rachel dug her fingers into the blonde's still damp hair and struggled not to squirm as she continued to work her fingers inside her. She was biting down on her lip as the felt her pulsating core spasm and her legs dropped limply against the bed.

Her breath was still coming heavy and uneven as the blonde smiled and began to move away; Rachel shot up and gripped her by the waist, pulling her close to her again and placing a hot kiss on the Quinn's mouth. The brunette's hands slid down the blonde's side and lingered at the top of Quinn's hip as she nuzzled her face into the woman's neck and licked lightly against her pulse, which was racing. As she moved her hand warmly between the girl's thighs, the blonde's hand gently batted at her, and Rachel moved her lips to the author's ear.

"Quinn," she breathed her whisper like a little prayer. "Quinn."

The blonde surrendered control, allowing Rachel to ease her down on the bed, and sucked in a deep husky breath. The petite girl moved slowly, sensing the other girl's reluctance to give in, and gently stroked her thighs as she parted Quinn's legs. The writer's inner thigh was wet with sweat and excitement, and Rachel glanced up at her with a warm, knowing smile. The blonde had her face covered with her hands and the brunette crawled over her until her face hovered above Quinn's hands.

"Quinn," she asked softly. "Are you okay?"

Her hazel eyes peeked out from between her fingers and then her hands fell away, reaching around to grip the pillow behind her head.

"Yes," the blonde whispered.

"Okay." Rachel smiled, beginning to kiss her again.

Rachel trailed her kisses from Quinn's lips back down to her neck, then traveled on, stopping a moment to pay extra attention to the blonde's breast once again, before continuing her kisses and licks down over her silky smooth skin. Quinn's pelvis jolted as the brunette's lips landed on her center and she heard the woman apologizing through quickening breaths. Her tongue flicked quickly against the blonde's womanhood and she felt her partner's legs quiver against the bed. The blonde still smelt of soap, a light floral scent with a sugary sweet undertone, and Rachel smiled as she lifted her head back up and caressed the petal soft flesh of Quinn's sweet warmth. If the woman was trying to restrain her movements, the brunette couldn't tell; the blonde was writhing on the bed with even the lightest of touches. Her breath was coming fast and raspy as she let out soft little yelps of pleasure, which Rachel found very rewarding, and the woman's obvious ecstasy spurred her on all the more.

As she finally entered Quinn's receptive body, the woman let out a warm ecstatic giggle; the brunette batted her eyes and pressed her fingers in again, relishing the soft wetness of her, and smiled again at the reaction she had elicited.

"Good?" Rachel asked softly.

"Yes, yes," Quinn panted, "yes—"

Rachel continued the repetitive motion as the blonde chanted her approval in more and more urgent tones. The brunette felt Quinn's depths tighten around her fingers and she watched as the author arched and then rested back against the bed. She gently removed her hand and climbed back up towards the headboard to give the blonde a soft, ironically timid, kiss before curling up against her. Quinn slid a slightly shaky arm under the brunette and pulled her closer. Rachel felt her rest her head on top of hers as they enjoyed the silence together.

---

Quinn laid on her stomach, wrapped loosely in the bed sheet, as Rachel slid her tank top back on. She wasn't sure which of them was more shocked by what had just taken place; she could tell the brunette wasn't the one night stand kind of girl. The sleek girl glanced back at her and smiled. The blonde had been with plenty of men in her life, but she had never been with a woman, not even an experimental kiss, and she had never even realized she was interested in girls. She tried to tell herself that it made sense; her editors often sent back her drafts complaining that she didn't describe the men in as much detail as she painted the main character. Quinn wondered to herself if this was something that had laid dormant in her subconscious or if it was a result of writing the intimate details of a female character for so long.

"Are you alright?" Rachel asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. "What are you thinking about? Did I do anything wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong," Quinn assured her/ "My mind is just always busy, busy, busy."

"I can relate to that." The brunette nodded as she slipped back into her leggings.

"So distract me," the blonde demanded playfully.

"Didn't I already do that?" Rachel teased back.

"Yes," Quinn smiled, "but that's got my mind twice as busy now."

The girl paused as she sat back down on the edge of the bed and chewed her lower lip. Quinn could feel the big questions coming—questions she wasn't truly sure she had the answers to, but she would have to answer nonetheless.

"Do you," the girl began. "I mean this, does this happen often?"

The blonde looked down at the crumpled sheets of the bed and shook her head.

"This has never happened before," she answered.

"Oh." The petite girl sighed. "I just, I've never done anything like this. From your writing I assumed you were—"

"I am," Quinn stated quickly. "Or I was, or thought I was. Look, I really don't understand everything that just happened. Not that I regret it, I just didn't plan on it, you know?"

"Okay." Rachel nodded. "I think we are both a little surprised by this. It's alright; we could talk about something else if you like."

"Thank you." Quinn smiled gratefully.

The blonde wanted to lean forward and kiss the brunette again, but that seemed like it would only confuse things further, so she leaned back on the pillow and waited for the girl to say something. After a few moments of silence she sighed and leaned forward again.

"So how do you like working at the library?" Quinn asked.

"I love it most of the time," Rachel replied. "Sometimes the director can be a bit tiring and there is a little drama off and on, but for the most part, it's wonderful. I'm great friends with most of my coworkers."

"I'm not fond of my coworker," the blonde commented. "How did you decide to work there?"

"I wanted my applications to be varied, so I volunteered there my senior year. Mr. Schuester, oh he was the director then, liked me so well that he worked out a type of work study shift for me that would work with my college schedule," The brunette explained. "I was originally studying music and theater, but I liked it there so much, I dropped music to switch majors. Then the new director came and there were some drastic budget cuts, so I had to decide if I wanted to find a new job or stay on fulltime."

"So you dropped out of college?" she asked.

"Not exactly; I'm still taking a few classes at a time towards my major," Rachel explained. "But I simply didn't want to give up a job I loved so much. After all, it is what I'm working towards anyway."

"And you love books." The writer nodded.

"Yes," the librarian answered happily.

"I dropped out of college after I signed my contract," Quinn admitted. "Writing wasn't even my major; it was just a filler class I was taking for fun."

"And it turned into more." The brunette smiled.

"A full time job," the blonde agreed. "Do you write?"

"No," Rachel blushed, "no, I only read."

"Listening to you talk is kind of like reading a book," Quinn explained. "In a good way; you'd make a good writer."

"I simply never have any good ideas." Rachel sighed.

"Neither do I," She teased.

Rachel huffed a little. "Why do you do that? There are so many people, myself included, that love your work."

"Because my stories are so groundbreaking and original?" The blonde quipped. "Honestly I do love writing, the first few drafts that is, but I guess I'm just feeling a little burnt out on the whole Brittany Pierce thing."

The brunette looked at her sympathetically. "I still think that you underestimate yourself. There is plenty of merit and originality."

Quinn gave her a weak smile and suddenly asked, "Which was your favorite book?"

"A Savory Spring." Rachel answered without hesitation.

The blonde laughed a little; the titles of her books always gave her a chuckle. She remembered the brainstorming session for the title of that one, the third book, and how irritated she had gotten. Quinn had thrown her pen across the room and yelled 'a something-y something or sometime' and stormed out. After that, her editor started sending title suggestions along with each returned draft.

The brunette was clipping her hair back up, off of her shoulders, and Quinn spotted the small tattoo on her lower left shoulder blade once again. She had noticed it earlier, but had been otherwise occupied.

"I didn't peg you for the tattoo type," the blonde commented.

"Gold stars are kind of my thing," Rachel said, blushing again, as though she were slightly ashamed of the markings on her body. "When I was in high school, I was certain I would be famous, Kurt did too, so we made a sort of bet. We swore that if we hadn't had some sort of major performance by 25, we would get tattoos; we're both terrified of needles, but it never occurred to us that life wouldn't turn out the way we'd planned. We tried everything to get the school to invest in more programs that would challenge us; Mr. Schuester even offered to try to help, but there wasn't enough interest. Without competition to prepare us, I suppose we simply weren't forced to push ourselves to the standards required to get into the colleges we applied too."

"That's awful," Quinn said sadly.

"I'll admit, I spent a good amount of time feeling sorry for myself and thinking the world was over," the girl shrugged, "but I'm pretty happy now. I had completely forgotten about out little pact, but then my 25th rolled around, and Kurt shows up at my door insisting on it."

The brunette chuckled as she continued the story. "Apparently he had already gotten his on his birthday, but didn't tell me; probably because if I'd been given the time, I would have found a way out of it, so I basically had no choice. He paid for it, though; I got it as small as he would let me get away with, and I do think it turned out rather well. Though, I know for certain I will never go through that again!"

"It's lovely," Quinn assured her. "Very tasteful."

Rachel shot her a grateful smile and laid back on the bed.

"So, how long have you been out?" The blonde reluctantly brought the subject back to where it had started. "Or are you out? I guess how long have you known you were—" The writer gave up on phrasing it correctly and sighed.

"I didn't really know, to be honest; I'd had a few fantasies," the brunette shrugged, "but I didn't really know. I only knew I was open to the idea."

"Does that make me your first?" Quinn said, a little shocked and humbled.

"It does." Rachel nodded.

"Oh." The blonde breathed.

"More honestly," the brunette added. "You're my second sexual partner."

Quinn's eyes went wide. It was hard to believe and she struggled against her nature to call her bluff. The girl had certainly seemed to know exactly what she was doing before; she had been better than any of the men the blonde had been with and she knew for a fact that most of them had lots of experience.

"You could have fooled me," she said instead of, 'there's no way'.

Rachel looked at her as though she were trying to decide if her comment was a compliment or an insult; the blonde smiled and the brunette smiled back.

"Well," Rachel said shyly. "I've read all your books."

"I never covered that in my books." Quinn shook her head and winked at the girl. "Finally, the books have come in handy for something! I can honestly say that's the most joy I've ever gotten out of them." Rachel giggled and the blonde locked eyes with her. "Seriously, that was the best sex I've had in years. Maybe the best I've ever had."

"Me too," the brunette said blushingly. "But then it's been—well—years."

Quinn laughed out loud and scooted closer to the girl. Her voice became much quieter as she summoned up the courage to ask.

"Do you think it would be alright if I—we—" she began quietly.

They both froze as the door clicked and then flew open; Jesse walked into the room quickly, without looking up from his phone.

"Good news, I talked them into two first class tickets at 6am for the cost of coach. Am I good or," he was calling cheerfully as he looked up. "What?"

Everyone was completely still, except for Jesse's eyes, which darted about, taking in the whole scene. Quinn could practically see his blood pressure rising as he glanced between the two of them; the pieces of the puzzle falling together in his mind.

"What the hell is this?" Jesse asked quickly.

"It's none of your business," The blonde snapped. "Get out! Why didn't you knock?"

"Well of course I would have knocked if I'd known how busy you were trying to ruin everything!" he bellowed back. "Who is this? What the holy hell is she doing here?"

Her manager glared at Rachel, who was struggling with her sweater, and Quinn felt a hot jolt of protective anger shoot through her.

"She's only visiting; I invited her," she screamed back at him. "Now get out, Jesse!"

"Naked visiting." Jesse laughed. "Oh you've really messed up especially well. How much will it cost to keep her quiet?"

"Quiet?" Rachel squeaked as she fumbled for her shoes.

"Oh, it's you, from the library," he said, his voice a little lighter. "Ruth?"

"Rachel!" the blonde flared.

"I'm sorry," the brunette sputtered. "I should go."

"No," Quinn whispered weakly.

"Yes," Jesse barked as he opened the door. "I think that's best. You're smarter than I gave you credit for."

The blonde received an apologetic look from the brunette as she gathered her things; as the now fully dressed girl slinked out of the room, it was like half of herslef was being dragged away with her. Her manager slammed the door behind her and turned to glare at Quinn, who was now searching for her robe; he leaned against the door as her hazel eyes pierced back at him.

"What is wrong with you? Are you trying to throw it all away?" he grumbled. "Do you have any idea what this kind of thing could do to your franchise? If you needed something like that, why not me? Christ's sake, you could have grabbed some man from a random truck stop and it would have at least been good publicity but no. You had to slut it up with her?"

"I'm not a slut!" Quinn seethed. "It's none of your fucking business anyway!"

Her manager motioned to the mirror, directing her to her reflection, as though the image of her wrapped in a sheet with her hair mussed from earlier were all the proof he needed to prove his point. Her face was very nearly scarlet at this point.

"You're fired!" the blonde screeched.

"Don't be stupid." Jesse laughed. "Do you know how rare it is for trashy romance novels to have this kind of popularity? That's all me, don't forget that. Why on earth did you even let her in here?"

He must have noticed the confused look on her face; his eyes widened a little and he stepped closer.

"She came over here on her own, right?" Jesse asked. "Please tell me you didn't actually invite her."

Quinn's jaw clinched as she stared him down.

"That's just great," he grumbled as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Alright, I can fix this."

The blonde sighed as she pulled her robe back on and sat down on the bed.

"There's nothing to fix," she stated. "Just leave it."

There was a huge part of her that wanted to slap him, but the other part of her felt numb. With the brunette gone, having the luck to be able to run away from the embarrassing scene, she felt like she was left to face all the confusion and fury alone.

"Fine," he said, surprising her. "We'll just calm down. I'm going to step into the bathroom and let you collect yourself."

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind him, she walked over to the dresser and picked up her phone; while it rang, she slid into a pair of pajama bottoms and tried to detangle her hair with her trembling fingers.

"Hello." Rachel's voice sounded shaky, and the blonde was sure she had been crying.

"Rachel," Quinn sighed, "I'm so sorry about all of this. Jesse had no right to talk to you like that. I didn't mean for all this to—"

"It's alright, Quinn," the brunette sniffled, "I'm just sorry I've put you through all this."

"No, it's not," the blonde sighed in irritation, "your fault."

"But you're in trouble with your manager now," the girl insisted with a shaky voice.

"I'm not worried about that." Quinn groaned. "I'm worried about you. Are you—"

Jesse quickly grabbed the phone from her; she hadn't even heard him come up behind her. Before she could react, he strode back into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. The blonde pounded on the door, but she knew it was useless. She pressed her ear against the decorative hardwood and listened.

"I'm merely reminding you that your library singed a contract with our publishing agency," she could hear him mumbling. "You are not to disclose any of what happened tonight. If you so much as blog about anything said or done tonight with Miss Lablanc, you will be faced with a lawsuit. Have I made myself clear?"

Quinn swallowed thickly; he was using his most icy tone and she could imagine how badly it was cutting the other girl.

"Good, I'm glad you understand me," he said. "Now, delete this number from your phone immediately."

For about five minutes there was uninterrupted silence; the blonde slumped over to the table and sat down, resting her head against the cold surface as her mind raced off in several directions. Quinn was furious, but that was dwarfed by the embarrassment and misery she felt. She wondered if Rachel was alright; inexplicably she felt an ache for the girl's company right now—to not feel alone is all this. It wasn't only Jesse's bellowing and crude behavior, it was the interruption, the fact that he had come in just as she had been letting herself come to terms with all this. Tonight had been a huge revelation, like seeing clearly for the first time, and now she felt blinded by a harsh, scrutinizing spotlight. As the euphoric feeling from earlier faded, she was left with the crushing weight of loss and doubt; she struggled to keep her anger, which was fading precariously, to ward off the tears. The bathroom door opened and Jesse stepped out boldly.

"Her number is deleted from your phone," he said coolly. "You're welcome."

Jesse St. James tossed the cell onto the bed and she stared blankly at him for a few seconds. Her anger came rushing back and she snatched the ashtray off the table and chucked it at him; to her dismay he dodged it. The shimmering glass object sailed past his head and left a deep dent in the wall.

"Are we done?" He sighed.

Quinn groped for something else to hurl at him; he allowed her to toss several small objects at him. Her frustration and blurry eyes caused her to miss on all accounts and finally there were no more items that could have caused much damage. She screamed angrily and sat back down; the last of her anger ebbing away, taking her strength with it.

"I don't see why you're making such a big fuss over this." Jesse shrugged. "You don't even know the girl."

Her manager poured her a glass of water and set it on the table before sitting down. She took the glass weakly and took a light sip.

"I apologize for calling you a slut," Jesse stated. "I know how it effects you and I shouldn't have lost my head. I knew this trip would be difficult for you, being as private and stubborn as you are; I just never imagined I would walk in on something like that."

"You should have knocked," the blonde grumbled.

"Perhaps I should have," he nodded, "but that doesn't change things."

"No, it doesn't," Quinn said pointedly. "It's still none of your business."

"Business," Jesse chimed. "Now that's a good word for us to focus on. Think of the business you are in and your demographic. Now tell me what they would think if they found out. What about your parents? How would they handle reading all about it in some tabloid? Think of how out of the blue this is for me, who has to safeguard your image; I mean you've never written anything that would make me think that you had an interest in girls. Well, Brittany wasn't exactly experimenting in lesbianism; you didn't even write her as having any close female friends."

The blonde sighed, mostly at the mention of her parents; she had begun to shed the fear of their disappointment, but she had no desire to hurt them. She knew that reading about it that way or having someone else tell them would hurt them deeply.

"How long have you known about," he cleared his throat, "this part of you?"

Her manager gave her a somewhat sympathetic look, but everything he did was staged, so the blonde saw straight through is attempt to seem kind.

"This is the first time anything like this has happened if that's what you mean," Quinn snapped. "And don't think I'm buying your act for one minute."

"Fine," Jesse shrugged, "so let's assume you run out of here right now and go find your little librarian. What then?"

She opened her mouth, but then closed it again, unsure of what to say.

"Then I suppose your plan would be to keep it a secret until you've finished out your contract," he suggested sarcastically. "I guess then everything would be fine. Oh, but how long to do you think it would stay a secret? In a little nowhere town like this."

Quinn rested her head on the table again.

"I think this has all been blown out of proportion by the shock of it," he continued. "Unless I'm wrong and it's true love. Also, assuming this wasn't just a fluke, a little stress relief and experimentation, but who am I to judge if she was your soul mate or not."

The blonde remained silent as exhaustion began to fog her mind.

"So you tell me," he crooned. "Is it true love?"

"I don't know." She admitted.

Quinn glanced up in time to see a cocky smile. "So, best case scenario, you're in love and your family doesn't quite disown you, but you know they're avoiding you, then suddenly your book sales plummet. After all, it only takes a few of your loyal fans deciding that your books may have subliminal subtext that may lure them to a homosexual lifestyle. Well, in that case, you can always fall back on your degree." The writer flinched as he shot her a glance during the pause. "Oh, I almost forgot, you don't have one."

"That's not exactly the best case scenario," she objected.

She hated that she was letting him wear her down; the blonde desperately wanted to fight back. Years ago she would have simply tore him down. She'd been a terror in high school to anyone who dared cross her, but after so many years of falling in line, some of the fire had left her spirit.

"It is," he assured her. "Do you want to hear the worst?"

"No," she grumbled with a half hearted glare.

"I propose you finish out your contract," Jesse said confidently. "It's only one year, after all; that's plenty of time for you to sort out what you really want and considerably cheaper than losing everything."

Quinn yawned and ran her fingers through her hair. "Fine."

Jesse gave her a haughty look. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Alright." She said, not looking him in the eye as she got up and walked to the bed.

"Fantastic." He smiled, checking his watch. "You can get about two hours of sleep before our flight. I suggest you get as must rest as possible. I'll be in my room."

The blonde rolled over numbly and waited until she heard the door click shut behind him. She hated him, nearly as much as she hated herself—more for voicing her fears for her than anything else. It was just so much safer not to risk anything; she squeezed her hazel eyes shut and tried to ignore the tears that were slipping out from under her eyelids. Quinn assured herself that, though annoying and pompous, her manager was right, and the author suddenly realized why so many successful people seemed miserable. Success meant sacrifice.

---

Ten Months Later

Rachel sighed as she leaned against the counter, watching the clock, and she could feel Tina giving her a concerned look out of the corner of her eye. The brunette tried to ignore it; her friend seemed about to say something when a customer approached. She stood up straight and reached for the book.

"I can't wait to see what I do next," the now familiar blonde bubbled. "I don't remember doing half of the stuff from the other books. Do you think she knows what I dream about?"

Rachel flinched as little as she scanned A Slippery Slope and handed it back to the girl.

"Enjoy," she said quickly. "That's due back on the 8th."

"I should have taken that one," Tina said apologetically as the blonde skipped over to the water fountain.

"It's fine." Rachel sighed. "Honestly, I should be over it by now. I don't know why I'm not."

She sighed again; the brunette had been attempting to move on from the events last January. Rachel had accepted every match up her friends suggested, which now included women, and even signed up on a dating site, despite her embarrassment at doing so. For whatever reason—and she had gone over many theories in her head—she seemed unable to shake the lingering emptiness. She had considered that it was the shock of doing something so out of character as a one night stand, that it had been someone she had dreamed of meeting for so long, or even that it was her first experience with a woman. At any rate, she was still struggling to return to normal and open up to a relationship. It wasn't even that the people her friend's set her up with were unappealing; if anything, some of them were out of her league, she felt, and her friends were very discerning about who they introduced her too.

"Is there a way I can get that book next?" Mercedes spoke loudly at the counter, calling over her shoulder as she added. "Because someone thinks they own the whole Lablanc collection up in here."

"I can put that on reserve for you, yes." Rachel smiled.

As the brunette typed, she heard her phone buzzing in her purse. She glanced at Tina who hopped up to check it for her.

"It's Kurt," the girl announced.

"He knows when my breaks are." She sighed. "I'll call him back after work."

Her best friend had been working the hardest to set her up ever since he had driven her home from the hotel that night. It had been a fight to convince him not to kick them out of the room or at least call the manager back and give him an earful, but Rachel had made him promise not to do anything. Now, every time Kurt thought he'd found a good match for Rachel, he would call her up and not stop until she promised to go out with them. He was nearly as persistent as she was, so she always gave in, and he did have surprisingly good taste—even if the end result was always the same.

Rachel wasn't really in the mood, though she was trying to put it all behind her. The new book was coming out this week; it shouldn't have bothered her, but she felt a strong desire to curl up at home and pretend the outside world didn't exist. The book release, which was shrouded in more mystery than usual, had Kurt all the more determined to pair her up it seemed.

"He's calling again," Tina said, sounding a little surprised. "She must be gorgeous."

"Berry, have you finished that order on the new Lablancs yet?" Sue called as she came around the corner.

There was no way for the director to know about what had happened, Kurt and Tina were the only people she had told and had sworn them to secrecy, but she seemed to bring up the author endlessly now.

"I h-h-handled it a w-w-w-week ago Miss S-s-s." Her coworker's stutter came out of hiding.

"Alright, alright; I don't have all day," Miss Sylvester grumbled. "They're on their way, that's all I need to know."

The director walked away briskly to chastise a child she saw lingering suspiciously at the P-R stack in periodicals, while several other boys were huddled in the row itself.

"Ta-da!" Tina said with a flourish of her hands.

"Huh?" Rachel mumbled.

"I'm magical," the girl giggled, "I make Sylvester disappear."

The brunette smiled and thanked her friend.

"Again!" her coworker gasped as Rachel's phone buzzed again. "That's it, I'm answering it. I don't care if I am straight; if she's that amazing, I might even take her."

The petite girl laughed as Tina took off towards the break room with her phone. There were plenty of good things in her life, she reminded herself, and this was just one small part of her whole life—at least she could still laugh and have fun. She reached forward to pick up the next book without really looking, her eyes still fixed on the back hallway where her friend had disappeared, and tried to scan it. When she didn't hear the familiar 'boop' of the scanner she tried again, and then again, finally she sighed and checked the barcode. There was no barcode.

"I'm sorry, we must have missed this one before putting it out on the shelves; we don't have it marked for the system yet," she apologized as she glanced up.

The book thudded loudly against the counter and Rachel gasped.

"Q-Quinn." She wheezed. "I mean, Miss Lablanc."

The blonde looked almost as nervous as the brunette suddenly felt. They stared at each other for a moment until the woman behind Quinn cleared her throat and crossed her arms.

"What are you doing here?" Rachel wheezed again.

"It's—a long story," the blonde said. "I've meant to call you a hundred times, but I couldn't."

The woman cleared her throat again and Rachel flinched. Tina had just come rushing out of the hall, an exclamation slipping from her lips as she spotted the blonce and came skidding to a halt, phone still in hand.

"Tina," Rachel sighed, "can you help the next customer?"

The brunette stepped away from the desk and motioned for Quinn to follow her off to the side. The blonde looked back at the woman behind her, who shrugged.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" The woman sighed. "So, you've got books here?"

"Is she with you?" Rachel whispered.

"She's my new manager," Quinn explained.

"Oh." The brunette fell silent.

"Santana Lopez," the manager called, obviously listening in. "Get on with it, Q."

Quinn rolled her eyes and handed the book back to Rachel gently.

"I'm sorry I never called," the blonde began softly. "It took a few weeks to realize how stupid I had been to listen to St. James. Then I got a lawyer who said I shouldn't contact you until they settled the business with my contract. Then—"

"You have no right to just come in here and just—" Kurt exclaimed as he burst through the double doors of the library.

"Swear to god, princess stubble," Santana snapped, putting herself between the man and Quinn. "You harass my client one more time and I'm gonna stop being nice."

"It's okay, Kurt, I'm fine," Rachel mumbled, still slightly dazed.

"Yeah, that'll convince lady hands over here." The other brunette groaned, gaining her a sharp glare from the blonde.

"Continue," she said as Kurt crossed his arms.

Miss Lopez crossed her arms as well and the two seemed to be in some sort of diva-off competition of some sort as Quinn began to speak again.

"Well I hired Santana, the publishers fired Jesse, turns out he was violating the contract in all kinds of ways and it left them pretty vulnerable," the blonde explained. "After this book, I'll be starting a completely new story, and they will be publishing it."

"Oh." The brunette nodded again.

"Under my real name," the author added. "I'll be dropping the penname. The last book doesn't hit the stores until Friday, but I brought you a copy of it. Will you read it?"

Rachel looked down at the book in her hand, the last of the Lablanc series, and let out a nervous little chuckle.

"A Shining Star?" She asked.

"Yeah. You have no idea how hard Santana had to fight for that i-n-g." Quinn laughed. "Will you read it?"

"I don't know," the brunette admitted; she'd always been honest with the blonde—there was no reason to stop now.

"Fair enough," the writer tried to smile, "I'll, uh, be in town for a week."

"Though miss-bug-up-his-ass here wouldn't let us have a room, so we're at the crap hole across the street from his hotel now," Santana interjected again.

"Just in case." The author shrugged. "Whether you read it or not, I just want you to know I'm sorry, Rachel, and you're wonderful. I made a stupid choice out of fear, instead of listening to what my heart was trying to tell me. If you can't forgive me, I deserve that, but I'll be waiting anyway, just in case you can."

Rachel nodded and Quinn backed away, following her manager out the front door; before either of her friends could say anything, she walked down the hall and out the employee entrance without even collecting her things or clocking out.

---

It had been four days since she gave Rachel the book; tomorrow morning, A Shining Star would be available to the public, and on Saturday, she would have to give up and leave. Santana watched her from her bed, where she was typing intermittently on her laptop, and she let out an irritated sigh.

"Stop pacing," her manager grumbled. "I feel like I'm at the zoo."

"That's a good analogy," the blonde sighed, "I do kind of feel like I'm in captivity here."

"So go out for a walk or get a coffee or something." Santana shrugged.

Quinn arched an eyebrow at the woman. "Why? You want me out of the room or something?"

The brunette gave her a sly smirk. "Maybe; there's a hot blonde in this chat room. You'd like her. Apparently you've made her famous."

The blonde rolled her eyes. Her new manager was great for a lot of reasons; the woman was relentless and never backed down in negotiation, she was fully supportive of Quinn's new found orientation, and just being around the fiery brunette was bringing back her own long lost fire. They had become fast friends over the past few months; she had learned to interpret many of the girl's insults for what they really were, her way of showing affection, but the downside was Santana's opinionated nature caused her to be better in short doses.

"I'm waiting to find out if Rachel will forgive me and you're kicking me out for a hook up?" Quinn asked.

"You could stay," Santana answered lightly. "If you're into watching, perve."

"How do you even find these girls?" The blonde groaned.

"What can I say, Q, I've got more swagger than you," the brunette said seriously. "Also helps if you're not carrying a torch for someone. Shit, Q, you could at least get out there and have a little fun while you're waiting."

Quinn rolled her eyes again and pulled her coat from its hanger; as much as she hated leaving the room, she knew just waiting there was driving her insane. She also knew her manager wasn't bluffing; whether she stayed or not, there was most likely a girl on her way over.

"Keep it on your bed this time," the blonde demanded.

Santana rolled her eyes and shrugged, giving her an 'I'll do my best' look, as Quinn grabbed the room key from the bedside table and dropped it into her purse. She gave her manager one last serious glare before heading out the door. She avoided the main hallway, opting for the side exit, because she always felt it was best not to risk running into whoever Santana had invited over. Also, she didn't exactly need to have her face rubbed in the fact that everyone seemed to have somebody. She just needed to get out and try not to think about Rachel; the week seemed to be crawling by at a purposefully slow pace and the amorous couple in the room next to theirs hadn't helped.

Quinn stopped by the front desk and rang the bell.

"If a girl comes looking for me—Rachel Berry, brunette, about so tall, very pretty—can you tell her I'm out?" the blonde stated.

At this point, the blonde didn't think the brunette was going to show up, but in the off chance she did, the last thing she wanted was for Rachel to have to deal with an interrupted Santana.

"Like her?" the large man at the counter asked, pointing behind her.

Quinn spun around to see Rachel fidgeting just inside the door, book in hand, her face was turning slightly pink.

"Hi." The brunette breathed.

"Hi," She answered back as she slowly stepped up to the girl.

Rachel blinked and held up the book. "Well, I read it."

The blonde smiled nervously. "What did you think?"

"I think it was your best work so far," the girl said cheerfully.

"Good," she sighed, "because I pretty much wrote the whole book for you."

"Just the one?" Rachel asked teasingly.

"So far." Quinn nodded with a laugh. "This next one I'm writing for me."

The brunette gave her a wide smile. "I'm glad to hear that."

The man at the counter was staring, none too secretly, at them and her eyebrows furrowed a little. "Can I help you, Noah?"

"Nope," the man nodded, "you two just do your thing. I'm not even here."

Rachel took Quinn's hand and led her off to the side, into a more private area of the lobby; the blonde squeezed her hand lightly and enjoyed the contact. She glanced back at the counter, which was barely within view from where they were standing, and the man ducked back out of sight when he saw her looking. The brunette paused for a minute and then let go of her hand. The blonde sighed and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the book," Quinn said.

"How much longer are you staying in town?" Rachel asked quickly.

"I don't know," the blonde shrugged, "we have to room until Saturday."

The room seemed to fill up with the silence as they stood there; the buzz of florescent lights seemed deafening and she could hear the man at the desk coughing.

"I imagine you're probably homesick by now," the brunette commented. "Missing your family and friends. Plus you have a new book to work on. You're probably anxious to get back."

"Not really." Quinn shrugged.

"I suppose you could write anywhere," Rachel said cautiously.

"Yeah," the blond nodded, "that's one of the perks of the job I guess."

"So, if there were some reason that you wanted to stay in Lima for a while, you could do that?" the petite girl stated.

Quinn smiled as she looked into the girl's warm brown eyes. "Yes, I suppose I could, if I had a place to stay."

The brunette cocked her head and gave her a bright smile. The blonde wasn't sure what to say; logically it was crazy to just move into town—yet her mind was already running through her current apartment, deciding what would stay and what would need to go into storage.

"You know if my rent was lower, perhaps cut in half, I could afford more trips to Broadway instead of just once a year for my birthday," Rachel mused.

Quinn's jaw dropped quickly, but then she smiled widely. "You really should get to go to New York more often."

"Can you think of anyone who might be interested?" the brunette asked.

"Are you sure?" The blonde gasped.

Rachel was quiet for a few moments before she took a step closer to her.

"What I know is that since you left, I haven't been myself. I've missed you, and I didn't even know you. I've always known there was someone out there for me—someone special who would make my knees go weak and my heart flutter. I believe that person is you and I don't know—" She paused. "I don't know if I can risk just letting you go again without at least trying."

Quinn nodded as she continued to stare at the brunette. Even if it was crazy, it made sense. She hadn't believed there was someone out there for her; the blonde had given up on the concept of soul mates after her first boyfriend in high school, the quarterback of course, but since the incident with Rachel, she had known this was the person she needed in her life.

"So," Rachel whispered nervously. "What do you think?"

Quinn pulled out her cell and dialed quickly; after a few rings she heard Santana's angry cursing over the line. She ignored the woman's angry words and simply laughed.

"Hey, San," the blonde said authoritatively into the phone, "I'm gonna need the room. Now. Yes, right now, and can you arrange to have my belongings moved here? Because that's your job, that's why." There was a pause and Quinn shot Rachel a meaningful glance. "Thanks."

---

I hope you enjoyed the story. If so, please leave a little bit of feedback so I will know whether or not to continue the collection. Also, if you are interested, check out my tumblr for a poll to determine which story gets done when (the next story is already selected, so the poll would be for the third installment). At any rate, thank you for reading.