DISCLAIMER: Why would I write this if I was RIB?

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviews, favorites, and follows! They all make me so happy; you have no idea. Title comes from "Light A Fire" by Rachel Taylor.

After Sectionals, Quinn made a choice regarding her relationships with Shelby, Beth, and Puck. She decided to not define her relationship with Puck, because the two of them were too messy and complicated to ever define. (Not that she would ever admit that to anyone, of course.)

Beth and Shelby were different. She'd considered just butting out completely and then holding on to the hope that Beth would seek her and/or Puck out when she was older, but she knew Rachel and Shelby had an uneasy relationship, and that made her rethink that option. She'd had a lot of time to do that, after all, since the offer had first been extended the day Quinn signed away her parental rights.

Beth was her daughter. Shelby, as a former surrogate, understood that; it was why she had pushed for an open adoption. Of course, less than three months later, Shelby had whisked Beth off to New York and, while she did try to get in contact with them once or twice during junior year, they hadn't bothered. Puck would have told her if he had. Maybe. They hadn't spoken, much.

But when she'd come back, things had changed. Quinn's one perfect thing was real and in person and looked so much like her and Puck that it was hard not to imagine what would've happened a year and a half ago if she had let herself want this child they had mentally prepared for but didn't follow through with.

This was how she found herself on Shelby's doorstep.

Knocking on the door, Quinn took a deep breath as she waited for Shelby to open the door, and ran over the words she'd memorized on the way over. They were sincere, she knew, but how to convince Shelby of that? She wasn't sure.

"Quinn," the woman said slowly when she saw her, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to apologize. I just- I- I'm a mess, Shelby. And I just thought maybe Beth would fix that. I shouldn't have said or done everything that I did. I've been in a really weird place since- well, since I found out I was pregnant."

Shelby gave her a once-over, causing Quinn to fidget involuntarily. The first few weeks after moving back in with her mother had had this very same incredibly tense atmosphere. Back then, she'd been waiting for her mother to snap. Right now, she was waiting for Shelby to let her in. Very different circumstances, yet both were equally unnerving.

"Do you want to be a part of her life?"

"More than anything," Quinn promised.

"Okay, then. Come on in."

Quinn walked into the elevator of Shelby's building and pressed the button for her floor, waiting for the door to close, when she heard Puck yelling, "WAIT!" and she laughed out loud, but held the door for him nonetheless.

"Why didn't we just drive together?"

"Because we're crazy," he replied. "So. You ready for your first Chanukah celebration?"

"Hey! I celebrated with you and Sarah while I was pregnant with Beth!"

"Alright, fine, I'll give you that." She rolled her eyes.

"How's the special going?"

"Okay, I think. I don't know, I kind of wish I'd said I'd volunteer with you and Sam," he said, shrugging. Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"You don't want all that fame and glory?" she said, only slightly teasing. It's not like the special was airing outside of Lima, but still.

"I mean, sure I do, but I don't know. Aren't you the one who goes on and on about the 'Christmas spirit?' Because that's lacking from our show."

"You can always back out," Quinn said as the doors began to open. Puck didn't respond as the two exited the elevator and went to the door of Shelby's apartment. He knocked, and Shelby opened it with a small smile on her face.

"Come on in."

He let her go in first, and she made a beeline for the playpen in the corner of the room. Beth was sitting in it, chewing on a stuffed bear. She looked pretty content, so Quinn didn't take her out, just ran a gentle hand over the girl's hair. It was so thick and soft. Her own was finer, but Puck's was practically wool. No wonder.

"I had a stuffed bear as a kid," Puck said, and she glanced behind her and the two shared a smile. A timer dinged somewhere and Shelby headed off towards the kitchen. Quinn followed her and sensed more than heard Puck come along, too. Shelby had a frying pan on the stove and Puck grinned at what was in it. "You made latkes?"

"It's Chanukah; of course I did," she replied. "It's my mother's recipe. Hopefully it isn't too butchered."

"Please, Quinn's had my mom's latkes; anything is better in comparison," he said. "My grandparents', though, that's where it's at."

"Your mom's latkes weren't that bad," she said, feeling the need to defend Mrs. Puckerman. She didn't like to think on it, much, her time with them, since she'd been such a dick, but she had enjoyed his mom a lot.

"Alright," Shelby said, putting some of the latkes onto a plate. "I did not invite you guys here just for latkes and dreidel spinning, though I expect to be doing a lot of it." Quinn bit her lip. When they'd gotten the email from Shelby, Puck had texted her and said it seemed to good to be true, and she'd agreed, but they had both sucked it up. 'Tis the season and everything, after all. "We need to talk about this, going forward."

Could have been worse. The three of them hadn't exactly sat down and done a post-mortem on the past couple months. Hell, she and Puck hadn't even done it on everything that had gone down sophomore year, and they probably should.

"Okay," Puck said.

"Okay," Quinn agreed.

So, with some interspersing for latkes, dreidel, menorah lighting, and bedtime, the three of them came up with a plan. Shelby retained full custody, obviously. That was not a path Quinn and Puck could go down at this point, and not that they should, either, with graduation right around the corner, and two different ideas of what comes next. They had babysitting rights when desired, but all babysitting must be together and at Shelby's apartment. (Quinn apologized profusely, again. It wasn't okay, yet, probably would never be, but they were building a bridge, and that's what mattered.) The lease on said apartment would end in July, at which point Shelby planned to return to New York, Beth in tow. Quinn had already applied ED to Yale, and flew in secret to do her drama school audition two weeks ago. She should hear back any day. The guidance counselor wanted Puck to apply for the University of Lima, his father's three-semester alma mater, but he hadn't made any decisions yet. They planned to revise in June and see how it went until then. It was a good plan. A lot, but good.

Quinn and Puck walked out of the apartment building together. Her chest felt simultaneously tight but freed. She shoved her hands into her pockets, missing the mittens she'd left at her mom's.

"Where are you parked?" she asked.

"Oh, I walked," he said, sheepishly. "Mom needed my car; hers is in the shop. It's not far, like a mile."

"I know, but that's like a half hour walk, at least, and it's cold and dark. C'mon, I'm this way," she said, and turned without giving him any other choice. She heard him chuckle, but he followed her anyways. They didn't speak until they were in her car, the words seeming to just bubble out of her. "Why is she letting us do this?"

"I don't know," Puck finally said.

"She has no right to trust us. Either of us. And just- She has no requirement to give us this much. Why?"

"Maybe she knows we need someone to take a chance on us," he said, looking over at her. "No one can say we've had an easy two years."

"That's an understatement," she said. She started the car and was about to shift into reverse when Puck reached out and stuck his hand on top of hers, stopping her in her tracks.

"Why did you do it?" he asked. "Call me that night, and not Finn. Or one of the girls."

She rushed back to that summer night that had launched this whole thing, the cutting words at practice, the fights with her parents, with Finn, and then being left alone. Puck's name had been the only one baging around in her head, not Santana or Brittany or her boyfriend.

"I just needed you," she said.

She remembered that night, every detail. The stories they reminisced about, the attempt at a cheer-up speech, the wine coolers (She knew the count; she'd had one and a half, and the lie she'd told had cut her too deep for too long, turned that moment into something uglier than it already was) and then the moment she hadn't been able to just stare at him anymore and had kissed him in a way she had been dreaming about for a while. She hadn't thought about Finn in those final moments before committing to what was happening with them; she'd thought about the man sitting beside her now, with his stupid mohawk and goofy grin and kind eyes, the one who was unafraid to do so many stupid, idiotic things but stupidly noble ones, too.

She saw it in his eyes, then, now, something beautiful, something she couldn't place. His hand still covered hers on the gearshift. They stared at each other, just a moment longer, but then he removed his hand, and the spell was broken.