/

"I really wanted her. I don't know that she felt the same – but I did. I always did, from the beginning."

She wrings her hands together, and shakes her head a bit, remembering.

(Because of course it wasn't just once; things like that don't happen once, no matter what anyone says.

And even when sex didn't happen, when it was nothing but the two of them and emotions, everything felt so charged that it was like they were stripped bare.)

Across from her, Kurt doesn't say a word, and she's so grateful to him.

She needs to tell her story, and he seems to get that, more intuitively than anyone else she knows.

She swallows. "I just – sometimes, it felt like I had her, you know? Like she was mine to have. And that – the thing happened in our junior year but even after that there were some times that I thought – she might still remember it, still think about it."

She closes her eyes.

It still hurts, even now, years later – still feels like being punched in the face because she was always the one a step ahead.

/

It's Quinn's idea, to do I Feel Pretty/Unpretty. She sets up the mash-up, gets the parts together, and they only practice a few times before they're performing it in front of the rest of the Glee club.

Rachel's never felt anything like this, the thrill of performing with someone – someone like Quinn.

Quinn is special and beautiful and everything that Rachel hopes to be, and she can still see Lucy in her, in the way that Rachel gets a smile, in the hand on her arm. That's kind, and sweet, and all that Rachel's ever wanted.

Quinn isn't like that, but Lucy is, and Rachel would happily take that if she could get it, call it her own.

She knows what she wants – to be Quinn's, to belong to Quinn, and it's when she looks over, singing keep on trippin' that she realizes it.

She's head over heels for Quinn Fabray but she won't let herself confess it.

After, Quinn smiles at her and it looks softer, somehow. She grabs Rachel's wrist. "Do you want to go get some dinner?"

It isn't a date – can't be. Because Quinn is in a relationship and Rachel is the only one that wants it to be more than what it is – and so she nods, follows, lets Quinn have a grip on her wrist.

They get in the car and Quinn's quiet for a bit, shaking, before she pulls to the side of the road, looking down.

Rachel raises an eyebrow, and the movement tugs at the bandage on her nose, reminding her of why they're here – the only reason Quinn's speaking to her. It calms her, almost.

"I'm sorry," Quinn says, and Rachel blinks.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for the shitty way that I've treated you ever since we –" Quinn looks up, biting her lip. "You know."

Rachel nods. "I remember," and it comes out as less of a joke than she would have liked.

Quinn blinks, and nods. "Okay." She breathes, soft. "I just – this isn't something I'm used to, okay?"

This. Rachel's heart starts to race, a bit, at that. "What do you mean?"

"Wanting you," Quinn says, and Rachel barely has time to register it before Quinn's kissing her, lips soft against her own.

It's perfect – but they can't do this.

Rachel pushes at her. "No," and it comes out forcefully, for once, though it's everything she wants – this can't happen.

Quinn pulls away as though she's been burned.

Rachel shakes her head. "We can't."

Quinn sits back against her seat. "Why?" and it's cracked, broken. She looks close to tears.

"Finn," and the name makes her heart hurt – because they're passing him back and forth, she and Quinn, while this is going on – was going on, whatever – and she can't do that. "We can't – do anything because you're with Finn and –"

"It doesn't mean anything," Quinn says, and her smile is wide, forced, leaning forward toward Rachel again.

Rachel shakes her head, and blinks back tears. "It does to me, though," and she swallows, thick. "It means something to me."

"That's not –" and Quinn sounds worried, now, licking her lips.

Rachel shakes her head. "Just – drop me at home?"

Quinn shakes her head. "No, I need to –"

"Please," Rachel says, because she's tired of being yanked back and forth like this. She wants, as she always does with Quinn, to go home and curl up and cry, and she needs Quinn to take her home, now.

After a long moment of staring at her, Quinn nods, and turns the car back on, hands shaking slightly.

It starts to rain as they're leaving, and Rachel snorts a bit.

Quinn turns to look at her. "What?" and it sounds as though she's trying to be polite, to put – everything past them.

Rachel smiles, and her eyes slide shut. "It's raining," and the steady beat lulls her, so long as she doesn't let herself remember –

Hands, touching her. In her.

Quinn's voice in her ear – "Rachel, so beautiful, come on, baby."

And the final euphoria, gasps almost covered by the sound of the rain.

– anything.

Quinn frowns. "Yeah?"

"It was raining, when we –" and Rachel cuts herself off here, coughing.

Quinn's eyes widen slightly, and she nods. She cracks a smile. "I'd almost forgotten."

It's dismissive, and Rachel feels her heart constrict a little bit, at that. She smiles, though, puts her brave face on. "I guess I've just got a better memory than you."

Quinn looks at her, face creased in worry, now. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm just – thinking about the operation." Rachel cracks a smile.

After a long moment, Quinn nods. "Okay. But – just so you know –" and she cuts herself off, looking down.

Rachel frowns. "What?"

"Nothing, never mind." Quinn smiles. "You live just up here, yeah?"

Rachel nods, pointing at her house.

Quinn pulls into the driveway and for a long moment they just look at each other. It's been months since it happened, but still Rachel can remember everything, and every detail comes rushing back to her, in this moment.

She should leave, she knows she should – but she can't, not when Quinn is looking at her like that, as though she really cares, wants Rachel in the same way she did that day.

"I should go," Rachel says, and she makes no move, still looking at Quinn.

"Yeah," and this comes out soft, and Quinn is staring at Rachel's lips and it takes a forced memory of this doesn't mean anything for Rachel to grab the door handle, getting out of the car.

She goes inside and she can't get the memory of Quinn, leaning toward her, kissing her for that brief moment, out of her mind.

It doesn't mean anything – it can't.

/

At school the next day, Quinn doesn't say anything to her and Rachel tells herself that it's better, that way.

She almost believes it.