AN: The song used is If Our Love Is Wrong by Calum Scott.


Part Three

Sit Next to Me


"Is she here yet?"

For the fifth time in the last twelve minutes, Rachel glances at the Arrivals' board to see that nothing has changed. She's nervous - she's been nervous since Quinn told her that her mother was coming to New York for a visit - and she's trying not to let it show. Quinn and she are convinced that Charlotte is actually an empath, because she seems to pick up on things so quickly. They've been unable to hide anything from her.

"Not yet, baby," Rachel eventually says, absently reaching out to run a gentle hand over her daughter's hair. The little girl is practically vibrating in her seat, and Rachel knows that if she severs contact; the girl is going to scramble away. It's moments like these that Rachel's certain Charlotte is Quinn's daughter. They're both restless and, yet, they can exude an abundance of calm.

Rachel doesn't yet know if Charlotte is a creative being - finger painting doesn't really offer many answers - but she's enjoying every second of learning about this tiny human being they've created. For the most part, Rachel still feels acutely disconnected from Charlotte in a way she's been unable to discuss with Quinn. Of course, she loves Charlotte fiercely and she's her daughter in every sense of the word, but there's this thing that Rachel can't help feeling exists between them, and she worries it's going to end up manifesting in an ugly way when Charlotte is older.

Rachel can't admit to Quinn that she has nightmares that Charlotte will, one day, say the words: 'You're not even my mother,' to her. She's not sure she'll ever survive such a thing, and she can't say the words to Quinn, even if she's convinced her wife will understand.

"Is she here yet?" Charlotte asks again, and Rachel slides her arm around her little shoulders, drawing her closer to her side.

"Not yet," she answers again, not even bothering to look at the board this time.

The two of them have gone unnoticed, which is mainly to do with Rachel's hat and scarf combination, but also to do with the fact that Quinn isn't with them. The three of them, together, are noticed more commonly than when there's only two. Somehow, though, Rachel knows that's not the reason her wife isn't here. Quinn wanted to send a car to pick up her mother, but Rachel insisted they go as a family. Quinn disagreed, which resulted in a small fight that she doesn't think has actually been resolved.

The second she thinks it, her phone starts to vibrate in her pocket, which makes Charlotte giggle.

"Answer the phone, Momma," she says and, if she were older, Rachel imagines her rolling her eyes.

"Who do you think it is?" she asks Charlotte as she goes digging for the device.

Charlotte lets out a squeal when Rachel produces the phone, revealing the Caller ID. From the picture, taken more than thirteen years ago in a dingy bar bathroom, they can both see the person calling is Quinn. "Mommy!" Charlotte exclaims.

Rachel's lips curl into a small smile as she swipes right and brings the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hi," Quinn says immediately, her voice surprisingly soft.

"Hi, Mommy," Charlotte says, scrambling to get to her feet on the metal chairs. She practically hangs off Rachel's arm to get her mouth as close to the phone as possible. She needn't bother, really, because Quinn can hear her.

Quinn lets out a soft chuckle. "Hi, Sweets," she says, just loud enough for Charlotte to hear.

"She's not here yet," Charlotte informs her blonde mother.

"Then we have to be patient," Quinn coos, and Rachel just about swoons. She will never get over how it feels to witness her wife being a mother. "Are you being a good girl for Momma?"

Charlotte lifts her hazel gaze to look at Rachel, all innocence.

Rachel laughs softly, absently kissing her daughter's cheek. "She's being good," Rachel says to Quinn. "A little restless, but she's being a very good girl."

Charlotte beams at her before she goes digging in Rachel's handbag for the woman's iPad. Rachel lets it happen because she suspects Quinn isn't calling just to check in, and her wife wants her sole attention.

"Rach?"

"I'm here," Rachel says, pressing the phone closer to her ear so Charlotte can't hear.

"Baby, I'm sorry," Quinn says, and she sounds exhausted. "I didn't mean to pick a fight with you. I just - I didn't know how to explain to you that I think it's best that the first time I see my mother since I was eighteen not be in a public place." She sighs into the phone. "I can't be sure how I'm going to react, and I - " her voice catches, and Rachel closes her eyes.

Rachel wishes she were home right now, so she can wrap her arms around Quinn and hold her tight. Why didn't she just agree to sending the stupid car?

"What are you doing right now?" Rachel asks, thinking it best to distract Quinn. Her own eyes flick Charlotte's way to see her playing on a Dora App. Both Rachel and Quinn spent hours going through all the educational Apps on offer for children, testing them out and determining which would be beneficial for their daughter. As a result, they both ended up having endless nightmares about Peppa Pig and Paw Patrol.

"Making a smoothie," Quinn says. "Do you know where the kiwis are?"

"Bottom drawer in the fridge. On the right. Behind the strawberries."

"Ugh," Quinn grumbles, and Rachel smiles.

It's an irony that Quinn Berry-Fabray hates all kinds of berries, and their friends love to tease them about it. Santana always seems to take it a little too far whenever she brings up the fact Quinn must like the taste of at least one particular Berry juice. To this day, Quinn still blushes a mad red. "Found them," she exclaims after a moment. "And, just for your information, they were behind the blueberries, not the strawberries."

"My mistake."

"I love you."

Rachel breathes out slowly, feeling her own tension relax somewhat. "I love you too, Quinn," she says. "Remember what I said, okay? You owe her nothing. We owe her nothing. The onus is on her to try to fix what she allowed to break." She reaches out to touch Charlotte, just needing the reassurance. "It's going to be fine. You'll see."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I believe you've probably already played out every scenario in your pretty blonde head, and I can assure you none of them is going to happen."

Quinn huffs. "Even the good ones?"

"Oh, Dr Berry-Fabray, you must know that I know you far better than that," she says. "None of your scenarios is a good one, and we both know it."

"Well, there is the one where she takes one look at me, and then turns right around," Quinn says. "It's probably the best I have."

Rachel sighs. "Quinn, baby, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be flying all the way out here just to make a mockery of us," she says. "You read her replies as well as I did. Does that sound like a woman who would - "

"Call me an abomination," Quinn finishes, and Rachel cringes. "I suppose you're right," Quinn allows after a moment of reflection. "I mean, I get that it's irrational and illogical or whatever, but it's a fear I have. I'm almost thirty-four, Rachel. Believe you me, I didn't expect one of my fears at this age to be seeing my mother."

"Wow," Rachel sounds. "You are old."

"Says you," Quinn says with a snort. "Excuse me, but who is turning thirty-four on Saturday?"

"Hush, you," she admonishes with a chuckle. "Don't say that too loudly."

"It's literally only me at home."

"The age-gods can hear you."

"Baby, if age-gods even existed, then they definitely already know how old you are."

Rachel growls playfully. "Go away with your logic."

"I love you."

It's like a balm, settling over her and soothing every part of her body. She doesn't think a day will come when she'll tire of hearing Quinn say those three magical words.

When they first started dating, Rachel expected to be the one who ended up saying them first, but Quinn surprised her. In fact, every little thing about Quinn has been a surprise. While Rachel was initially hesitant to start a committed relationship with someone who didn't even live in New York throughout the year, Quinn refused to use that as an excuse.

You like me, and I like you. Nothing else matters.

At the end of that amazing summer after their sophomore year, Quinn purchased two Metro North passes, made Rachel promise to try and the rest, as they say, is history.

"Oh," Quinn suddenly says; "did I tell you Kurt sent another sonogram of Baby A-H?"

"No," she gasps. "When? Let me see!"

Quinn laughs. "This morning," she answers. "I'll forward the email."

Rachel can't help her pout. "Why didn't he send it to me?"

"I've got them all on a collective strike against Rachel Berry's email," Quinn answers, sounding entirely too casual about the events that ended them in this situation.

"Quinn," she complains. "That's not very nice."

"Oh, Rachel Berry-Fabray, you should know by now that I'm not very nice," she says, and her tone of voice is so sultry that Rachel shifts in her seat. Quinn knows what that voice does to her.

"Quinn," she says.

"Yes, baby."

Before Rachel can respond, Charlotte squeals, and Rachel almost drops the phone in surprise. She's just about to question her daughter when Charlotte suddenly points somewhere in the distance. "Look," Charlotte says. "She looks like Mommy."

Rachel's eyes snap upwards, and her heart skips a beat when she spots Judy Fabray in the crowd of outgoing passengers, her eyes searching. "Quinn," Rachel says into the phone. "I have to go. She just arrived."

"Oh."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Would you hate me if you get home and I'm not here?"

"Just a little bit, yes."

Quinn chuckles. "I'll be okay, Rach," she says. "Thank you, and I love you."

Rachel has just enough time to return the sentiment before Charlotte is shooting out of her seat and practically sprinting towards the still-unaware Judy. Rachel grabs the abandoned iPad and rises to her feet. As she hurries after her daughter, she stuffs the tablet in her handbag and pockets her phone. She feels deeply unsettled all of a sudden, and she really wishes Quinn were here.

Charlotte reaches Judy first, coming to a stop right in front of the woman and tugging on her pant leg. Predictably, Judy startles, and spins around. Rachel doesn't realise she's holding her breath until she sees Judy's confused expression spread into a warm smile. It's oddly similar to Quinn's smile, and Rachel suspects she just might learn to like this woman.

Judy gets down on her haunches to be closer to Charlotte's level, and Rachel slows her steps, just observing. There's a long moment where Judy just studies Charlotte, and Charlotte lets her. "Hello," Judy eventually says.

"Hi," Charlotte says, not shy at all. "My name is Charlotte Bewwy-Fabway."

Judy hides her amusement at Charlotte's pronunciation with a smile. "And my name is Judy Spencer."

"Momma says you're Mommy's mommy," Charlotte says. "You look like her."

"And, so do you," Judy says, and it comes out almost whimsically. It's the moment Judy notices Rachel, and she immediately straightens, her eyes widening a fraction. "Rachel," she says, almost in awe. "Hi."

Rachel steps forward, suddenly feeling more at ease, now that she's seen Judy's reaction. "Hi," Rachel says, holding out her hand. She probably would have gone in for a hug but, if Judy is anything like Quinn, it's doubtful that'll be well-received.

Judy stares at the hand a beat too long, apparently, because Rachel's smile slips somewhat. Snapping to attention, Judy grasps her hand firmly. "Sorry," she says after a moment. "You just always struck me as a hugger."

"I am," Rachel says, just that bit more amused. "But I wasn't sure you were. I've had to wear Quinn down over the years."

Judy smiles in acknowledgement, even though she feels a twang of guilt. She can't recall the last time she actually hugged her daughter. It's only recently that she's started hugging Frannie regularly, and that's also to do with Rachel's unknowing influence. Judy is determined to be better.

"Maybe we can build up to that," Rachel offers kindly. "If I recall correctly, the two of us have been having two entirely separate, concurrent relationships with each other for eleven years."

Judy lets out an unexpected laugh. "Well, when you put it that way, it sounds odd."

"There are a lot of things about this situation that are odd," Rachel says, and then looks down when Charlotte presses a hand to her knee. "What is it, baby?" she asks.

"Can we go?" she asks softly. "That man is looking at me."

Despite herself, Rachel looks, and, indeed, there is a man staring at them. And another, and another. Rachel shakes her head, unsure if she's amused or irritated that the arrival of the older-Quinn (Judy Spencer) has managed to get them recognised. "We should get going," Rachel says, bending to lift Charlotte into her arms and hide her face in the crook of her neck. "Before we get hounded."

Judy has just enough time to register Rachel's words before the shorter woman is power-walking away. She hurries to follow immediately, dragging her suitcase only a few yards before a tall man emerges from somewhere and takes it from her. She's about to shout something when he smiles at her.

"Good afternoon, Ms Spencer," he says. "My name is Tom, and I work for Dr and Mrs Berry-Fabray."

Judy just blinks. "Oh?"

"Allow me to take this for you," he says a beat later. "I promise you'll get it back in one piece."

Judy's eyes track Rachel's movement ahead of them, and she seems undeterred by Tom's sudden appearance, so Judy lets it go. The aim is to get out of here as quickly as possible and, when they emerge from the building, Tom directs her to the front seat of a waiting town car. He opens the door for her, and she quickly climbs inside before peering over her shoulder at where Rachel is securing Charlotte into her carseat.

Rachel is just about done by the time Tom has secured Judy's suitcase in the trunk and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Ready?" Tom asks.

It's Charlotte who responds. "Ready," she almost shouts.

Rachel pats her daughter's leg. "Not so loud in the car, baby," she instructs gently.

"Sowwy," Charlotte mumbles. Then: "Can I play Dora?"

Rachel lets out a small laugh, and then produces her iPad for her daughter, which will hopefully be enough to keep her occupied for the drive home. Rachel settles in her seat properly, shifts her seatbelt to be more comfortable and then looks forward. "Judy," she says, and the woman turns in her seat to look at her. "I'm sorry about that in there," she says. "We've been hounded a few times in the past, and the crowds can be scary." Her eyes drift to Charlotte significantly, and Judy immediately understands.

Baby comes first, and then mother-in-law's feelings.

Judy's not naive enough not to realise there's probably a multitude of other important things between those two on the list, but she's relieved to know Charlotte is the number one priority. "That's okay," she says. "I understand." She mulls that over for a moment. "Though, maybe, a long time ago, I might not have," she adds after a while. "I don't think I did all that much to protect my children."

Rachel isn't sure how to respond to that, so she says nothing.

Judy accepts the silence for what it is, and then asks, "How is Quinn?"

Rachel lets out a laugh. "Do you want the truth?"

"Always."

Rachel casts a look at Charlotte, notes that she's still occupied, and then answers Judy's question as honestly as she can. "She didn't get much sleep last night," she says. "She's been particularly stressed out since you confirmed you were coming. Writing a lot, and being... quiet. She's unsure how she's going to... react to seeing you again. It's - it's one of the reasons she's not here right now."

Judy nods thoughtfully. "And the other reasons?"

Rachel manages a smile. "I'm afraid, those, you're going to have to speak to Quinn about. I think I've revealed too many of her secrets to you for one lifetime."

Despite her disappointment, Judy accepts the end of that line of questioning. She knows she has a series of very difficult conversations coming up with Quinn and with Quinn's friends and family. She's not exactly looking forward to it, but she recognises its necessity. She intends to work her way back into Quinn's life, and she's willing to do anything and everything to fix what she allowed to break.

"She mentioned that she didn't handle the news about the emails particularly well," Judy says.

Rachel lets out a dark laugh. "That's bit of an understatement, Judy," she says. "I've seen many emotions on her, but even I was surprised. She didn't talk to me for excess of eighty hours."

Judy visibly cringes, and Tom lets out a long whistle.

Rachel's eyes dart to Tom. "She'll kill me if you tease her about that," she says, a slight reprimand in her tone buried under her amusement. "Do you want to be responsible for that? I'll be dead and Quinn will go to jail. Would you really allow Charlotte to grow up with my parents? You'll just end up with another one of me, and then you'll be the one suffering, because I'll be in Heaven, and Quinn will probably be running her own prison gang and you'll have to deal with another Diva Berry-Fabray."

Tom bursts out laughing, and Judy is unable to stop herself from laughing as well.

Tom shakes his head. "I'm just commenting on the length of time," he says, all innocence. "If I recall correctly, the last time silent treatment was involved, it was you, and it was only thirty-one hours."

"It was torture," Rachel says, a whine in her voice. "Have you seen what my wife looks like? Try to imagine her actually putting in effort."

Tom looks a little dreamy. "I have imagined it."

"Hey!" Rachel admonishes, swatting his shoulder.

"No, Momma," Charlotte suddenly says. "Spanking, bad."

Tom stifles a laugh, and Judy hides her smile behind a hand. Rachel looks alarmed for a moment before she turns her attention to Charlotte. "You're right, baby," she says. "Momma's sorry."

"Say sowwy to Tom," Charlotte instructs.

Rachel resists the urge to glare at Tom's obvious laughter as she forces out the words. "I'm sorry, Tom."

"It's all good," he answers entirely too casually. "It's understandable that Miss Berry-Fabray would have better manners than her diva of a mother."

Rachel actually gasps. "You take that back, Thomas Malone."

"What are you going to do if I don't?"

Rachel glares at the back of his head. They both know she'll never actually do anything. She loves him too much, and he's much too important to their family. He's been with them for quite a few years now, accompanying them on their various travels. It's unspoken between them that Tom is a little bit in love with Quinn, and Rachel has made it her mission to use her match-making skills to find him a woman who will actually be able to love him back.

All in due time, she suspects.


Rachel almost expects Quinn to be gone when they get home, so she's pleasantly surprised to find her wife in the kitchen, sipping at her smoothie and reading The New York Times on her iPad. There's a certain air of calmness about her, and Rachel has the sudden urge to sniff at Quinn's smoothie to be sure she didn't add in some kind of liquid courage.

"Hey, you," Rachel says softly, getting Quinn's attention.

The blonde seems to snap to attention, and her glasses almost fall off her face at the speed she lifts her head. "You're back," she says, and then looks past Rachel's shoulders. She frowns at the empty space, the unasked question in her eyes.

"Charlotte is giving her a tour," Rachel explains, approaching her wife slowly. "Our kid has a pretty neat bedroom, you know? That her Mommies painted for her, no less. She'll be talking about your mural for hours, if we're lucky."

Quinn wants to accept the distraction, but she just can't. "Please don't ask me how I feel," she suddenly says; "because I don't know what to tell you, and I definitely don't want to lie to you."

Rachel reaches out to touch Quinn's left hand with her right. It's the only comfort she thinks Quinn will accept in this moment. "If it makes you feel better, I suspect she's as nervous as you are, if not more."

"No, that definitely doesn't make me feel better," she says. "At all, actually."

Rachel lifts Quinn's hand to her mouth and presses a soft kiss to her palm. "What do you need?" she asks, already knowing the response. It's been a part of their relationship for years, because Rachel took it upon herself to make sure Quinn would always be comfortable enough to ask her for things. To this day, it's still a struggle she sees warring behind her wife's hazel eyes.

"Just love me," Quinn whispers.

Rachel offers her a genuine smile, and then kisses her forehead. "For always."

"For forever."


Quinn has imagined this very moment many times in her life. For whatever reason, she expects her mother to look the way she remembers, as if she hasn't aged in the more than fifteen years they haven't seen each other. So, it's a bit of a surprise to Quinn to see an older Judy Fabray than she remembers, standing in the living room of the home she shares with her wife and daughter.

The first thing Quinn does is wonder if she's going to look like her mother when she's that age, and it unsettles her slightly. Well, maybe more than a little because, the second Charlotte senses her mother's distress; she abandons the story she's telling Judy and makes her way over to Quinn. Silently, she lifts her arms in the universal sign of 'Up,' and Quinn immediately obliges, bending and lifting the toddler into her arms.

"You okay, Mommy?" Charlotte asks, her tiny voice filling the sudden silence of the room as her small palm moves to rest against the side of Quinn's neck.

"I'm fine, Sweets," Quinn murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of Charlotte's head. "Who's your new friend?"

Charlotte giggles. "That's your Mommy," she says. "She looks like you."

"And you look like me," Quinn says, squeezing her tight enough to make her squirm and beg to be let down. Again, Quinn obliges, and then looks at her mother, suddenly very unsure. She anticipated an endless number of reactions on her part, but apathy was not one of them. She has absolutely no idea what to say to this woman, and Quinn is a woman of words. It's deeply unsettling.

"Hello, Quinn," Judy says, breaking the silence.

Quinn blinks once, twice, and then says, "Hi, Mom."

There's something so childish about the way she says the words; almost breathing them out in relief. Judy is here. Her mother is here, and the teenage girl searching desperately for approval is bursting to be let out.


"Should we order in for dinner?"

Quinn is unable to look away from where her mother and daughter are looking at an endless array of photos on Rachel's iPad. Charlotte is educating Judy on everything she's missed in the past decade, at least. "Whatever you want," Quinn says distractedly.

Rachel sighs, feeling the distance Quinn is putting between them, and unsure if she should be accepting it. Quinn won't accept her comfort or affection, and it's unlikely she's going to give it willingly. With a sigh, she knows she's going to have to demand it at some point. Gently, she pats Quinn's knee, rolling her eyes when the woman tenses, and then goes in search of her phone. Some Thai would be nice.

In the two hours since Judy reentered their lives, Rachel has been... on edge. It was Quinn's own initial apprehension that made Rachel tense. She's been watching everything like a hawk, her eyes scanning and analysing every little interaction. There's a part of her that wants this to... end. Good or bad, at this point, is of little significance. She just wants her wife to know. She wants Quinn to have closure.

For dinner, Rachel orders a selection of food, even adding in a few meat dishes for Judy, and then disappears into the kitchen to wait. Despite it being the holidays, she has a few emails to respond to and she has to deal with a litany of tweets about her apparent appearance at LaGuardia Airport. On most days, Rachel doesn't handle her own social media. She has an entire Public Relations team that handles almost everything - including majority of her fan mail - but she has a firm grip on her Twitter and Instagram.

The only line of defence she has before posting anything is Quinn, whose opinion she values more than anything. They decided, together, that they wouldn't post any pictures of Charlotte. Well, her face, mainly, because there's a pretty neat picture Rachel snapped of her wife and daughter walking hand-in-hand with their backs to her in Central Park that she had to share with the world. She didn't think it could be possible to be so in love with her own family.

They eat dinner at the dining table, Charlotte leading the conversation, even if her speech is starting to slow and slur. She's getting tired, and it makes Rachel smile. Apparently, the excitement of meeting her grandmother is catching up to her, and her afternoon nap was much shorter than usual because of having to pick up Judy from the airport.

It's fine. It's the holidays. They can get back to their regular schedule in the new year.

Dinner, itself, is uneventful. Quinn eats very little, which is relatively normal, and Rachel almost expects it. What she doesn't expect is for her wife to put significant space between them, and slide her hand away when it usually rests on Rachel's leg. The brunette can't decide if it's a conscious thing, and it only gets worse as Quinn offers to clear up while Rachel, Judy and Charlotte descend on the living room.

Rachel watches it all, trying desperately not to give off her tension. Charlotte is likely to pick up on it, though the toddler does seem more in tune to Quinn's feelings than Rachel's. It does, however, take a monumental effort not to growl out loud when Quinn enters the living room and chooses to sit on the one end of the couch - possibly as far away from Rachel without drawing too much attention to it.

Rachel counts to ten in her head before she gets to her feet and moves towards Quinn, her intent clear. There's something she expects to get out of this interaction, and she's going to get it.

"Quinn."

It takes the blonde a long moment to look away from the screen of her phone and give her attention to her wife. She barely even noticed that Rachel moved from her seat to take up the space beside her, leaving about a foot of space between them on the couch. "What's wrong?" she asks.

For a moment, Rachel contemplates not bringing it up, but she knows it's only going to get worse if she doesn't address it now. "Baby, why aren't you touching me?"

Quinn blinks in surprise, definitely not expecting to hear that. "Excuse me?"

"Why aren't you touching me?" she asks again. "Why are you sitting so far away from me, and why haven't you kissed me in the last five hours?"

Nervously, Quinn's eyes dart towards Judy, who's busy listening to Charlotte tell her a story about a trip to the park with her Unca Puck, Auntie Meg and Cousin Ryan. "Rach," she starts to say, but she's unsure what her next words are going to be. "My mother is right there," she eventually decides on.

"I know," Rachel says, her sympathy only going so far. "So?"

"What do you mean 'so?'" she asks, almost incredulous.

"I mean exactly that, Quinn."

"I don't want to make her uncomfortable."

"Well, you're making me uncomfortable," Rachel immediately counters. "Judy will get used to it, Quinn. This is your home, and I am your wife. If she can't accept that we love each other in our own home, then she's going to be using her return ticket sooner than she thought, okay? It's not your job to censor your affection just because you're worried about how she'll react. So, can you just suck it up and fucking kiss me already?"

Quinn gives her a curious look, and then dutifully leans across the space - that suddenly feels far too large - between them and presses her lips to Rachel's. It's a soft, lingering kiss, that makes them both smile. "I love you," Quinn murmurs against her wife's lips, and then pulls back. "And, I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry."

"Then, what do you want?" Quinn asks, genuinely curious. "You know I would give you the world if I could."

"Oh, baby," Rachel breathes, resting her forehead against Quinn's; "don't you know you already have?"

Before Quinn can respond, she feels Charlotte climb onto the couch between their bodies. Their daughter crawls into Quinn's lap and curls into a tight ball, resting her head on Quinn's chest and closing her eyes. A little surprised, Quinn gives Rachel a questioning look.

"Empath," Rachel mouths as she smiles. Gently, she pats Quinn's knee, bends to kiss Charlotte's forehead, and then rises to her feet before addressing the other adult in the room. "Judy, would you like to help me make hot chocolate while Mommy and her Princess have a moment?"

Judy looks between Rachel and Quinn for a moment, and then gets up. "Of course," she says, and then follows Rachel to the kitchen. "Does Quinn still like cinnamon in hers?" she asks as they enter the impressive room.

"Oh, yes," Rachel responds, heading to the stove. "She likes a bit of whipped cream as well, and she always likes it made from scratch. None of that Instant stuff where you pour in the sachet. We're serious about our hot chocolate in this house."

Judy just nods in understanding as she watches Rachel practically float around the kitchen. While Quinn may be known for her cooking skills, it's obvious Rachel knows her way around the room as well. Quinn isn't always around, and Rachel has had to learn a few things. One does not be in a relationship with Quinn Berry-Fabray for more than thirteen years and not pick up a few things along the way.

"Do you mind grabbing some cups behind you there?" Rachel asks after a while. "Charlotte's sippy cup for hot chocolate is the Batman one."

Judy raises her eyebrows in a combination of surprise and curiosity.

"Don't ask," Rachel says with an amused shake of her head. "She spent a weekend with Noah and Meghan a few weeks ago, and she's been obsessed ever since. Quinn loves it, and I'm unsure what to make of it at this point. Noah claims he's done his one good deed now. She's a Batman fan, and that's that. He can now rest easy."

Judy can't help her smile. "It takes a village, and all that?"

Rachel laughs in response. "Indeed, it does."

Judy retrieves the mugs and sets them out on a tray she finds beside the bread bin. She lines them up carefully, and then looks up to find Rachel giving her an amused look. "Is something wrong, dear?"

"No," Rachel immediately says. "It's just, well, I didn't expect you and Quinn to be so alike. It surprises me sometimes."

"Oh?"

Rachel's eyes drop to the tray. "Quinn sets hers up like that, as well," she says. "It's all so very proper."

Judy suddenly looks guilty, her gaze dropping down to the island between them. "It's part of her... training," she says, and she suddenly feels a little sick. "Both girls went through it, the way I did. It's almost, umm, debutante training, as it were."

Rachel nods, clearly following.

"It's supposed to be in preparation for marriage and running a proper home," she explains further.

"She's very good at it," Rachel says after a moment. "Cooking and cleaning and making sure we have enough groceries and all the supplies we need. You trained her well."

Judy swallows nervously, unsure what to make of Rachel's tone of voice.

Rachel says nothing more as she pours four separate cups of hot chocolate. She invites Judy forward with a gentle wave of her hand, and the two of them tailor the cups to each person's liking, Rachel dropping a block of ice into Charlotte's to cool it down quicker. "I used soy milk, by the way," Rachel says, almost as an afterthought. "Quinn doesn't mind and, surprisingly, Charlotte prefers it."

"I'm sure I won't even notice."

Rachel throws her an amused look. "Oh, believe you me, Judy, you're definitely going to notice."

Judy just smiles as she follows Rachel back to the living room, where they find Quinn and Charlotte sprawled out on the couch, quietly reading together. While Rachel sets the tray down on the coffee table, Judy takes a moment to admire her daughter. She hasn't allowed herself this opportunity; just to look at Quinn, and take in all the gentle lines and straight edges of her ageing features. She's grown so much, and Judy finds she could just stare at her for forever.

She suddenly understands what Rachel has been talking about all along.

"Mom?"

Judy snaps to attention to find three pairs of eyes on her; two hazel and one chestnut.

"Everything okay, Judy?" Rachel asks, concern in her tone.

It takes a moment, but a strong smile blooms across Judy's face. "Everything is perfect, dear," she says. "Everything is just perfect."


It's almost two hours later when Quinn can finally crawl into bed. Rachel is already under the covers, her focus on her phone's screen as she replies to a few messages and confirms plans with Santana and Brittany to have lunch together the next day.

Quinn's destination is Rachel - it always has been - and, like a cat, she nuzzles Rachel's chest with the side of her head, successfully dislodging the phone and getting her wife's attention.

Rachel laughs softly, absently running a hand over Quinn's hair. "Hello, Minou," she murmurs, dropping a kiss to Quinn's hairline. "Are you tired, baby?"

Without replying, Quinn snakes her arms around Rachel's waist and hugs her close.

Rachel recognises moments like these. Her wife isn't overly affectionate. It took Quinn years to get comfortable with any kind of public displays of affection. Even though she was out and - relatively - proud; it was still some time before she would reach for Rachel's hand without hesitating, and even longer before she felt comfortable enough to kiss her even in front of their peers. So, when Quinn does this, Rachel knows she has to pay attention.

It's a full five minutes later when Quinn finally speaks. "Do you think she likes me?" she asks, and her voice is so small; so much like a child, that Rachel's heart breaks a little.

A lot.

"Quinn, she loves you," Rachel finds herself saying.

"I know that," she says; "but does she like me?"

Rachel isn't sure exactly what Quinn is asking her, and she shifts her hands to the sides of Quinn's face and tilts it so she can look at her. "What are you asking me?"

Quinn sighs. "I don't even know," she whispers. "Do you - do you think she's disappointed?"

"In what?"

"Me."

"Baby, no," Rachel says immediately, a certain strength in her voice that offers no room for argument. "I think it's going to take some time for you two to get to know each other, once more," she says. "This time, you actually get to let your mother know the real you. Let her know you."

"And what if she doesn't like the real me?"

"Then she's an idiot."

Quinn chuckles. "I don't know how to feel about your calling my mother an idiot."

"You can call mine an idiot if you want," Rachel says, and they share a laugh. "I just - I don't want you to worry so much, okay? We're just going to take it one day at a time. Tomorrow, you and Charlotte will spend the afternoon with Judy while I go to lunch with Britt and San, and you can test the waters a little."

Quinn's eyes widen and she immediately straightens. "What? You're leaving me?"

"With Charlotte."

"Rachel, no," she hurries to say. "You can't."

"I already promised them."

"Then, we'll all go to lunch. Together. The six of us."

Rachel shakes her head in amusement. "No," she says, and it comes out firmer than she expects. "You need to spend time with your mother, and I need to finalise details for Saturday's party."

Quinn's eyes narrow. "Oh, for when you turn thirty-four, huh?"

Rachel growls. "And there I was thinking of reconsidering my plans for the afternoon," she says, and then lets out a squeal in surprise when Quinn suddenly lunges for her and forces her onto her back.

For a moment, they just stare at each other, all the love in the world existing between them.

"I love you," Quinn says seriously.

Rachel slides a hand into her hair and pulls her down for a kiss. "Show me how much."

Almost expectedly, Quinn hesitates. It's only for a moment, though, because then she's kissing Rachel again, and there's very little hesitation involved when, just minutes later, she has her wife gasping her name into an endless abyss.


In the morning, Rachel wakes Quinn with a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder. She waits for the slight grumble of discontent before she moves her lips to Quinn's temple. "You have about ten minutes to get dressed before your daughter comes storming in here looking for her Mommy."

Quinn makes an indecipherable sound, and then rolls over, exposing her naked breasts to Rachel's wandering eyes. When Quinn catches her looking, a slow smirk spreads across her face. "See something you like?" she asks, her voice raspy from sleep.

It's almost too much for Rachel, and she's seconds away from straddling Quinn, but then she remembers that Judy is already up and about, and Charlotte is just minutes behind her. They don't have time.

Quinn can practically see it in her face. "I can be quick," she says, biting her bottom lip invitingly.

Rachel casts a look over her shoulder at absolutely nothing, says a mental fuck it, and then gives in.

Willingly.

Wholeheartedly.


Fifteen minutes later sees Quinn sprinting into the Master Suite's bathroom and leaving Rachel to scramble to find her robe before Charlotte sees something she's entirely too young to see. She's cursing under her breath as she rights herself, feeling hot and bothered and unsatisfied. So much for 'I can be quick.'

Without putting up too much of a fight, Rachel allows herself to be dragged to the kitchen where she and Charlotte find Judy making breakfast.

"I hope you don't mind," Judy says, somewhat sheepishly, after their quick greeting. "I just wanted to do something, and I thought I'd make Quinn's famous egg scramble."

Rachel smiles widely. "I'm sure she'd love that."

"I don't know what to make for you, though," Judy says, frowning slightly. "When you told me you were a vegan, I did some research, and that means you don't eat eggs, right?"

Rachel nods. "No eggs, yes."

Judy blinks, visibly recalling all she learned about what being a vegan entails. "What do you eat?"

"I usually just have a smoothie in the mornings," she says, clearly very used to having to explain her eating habits. "I add in a bit of protein to carry me through the morning, and I should be good to go."

Judy, admittedly, looks skeptical, and Rachel is caught off guard by how Quinn the look actually is. She remembers Quinn looking a little out-of-sorts the first time she witnessed Shelby and Rachel in the same space - they are strikingly similar in appearance - and she gets it now. Though, she doubts she and Shelby are as closely linked as Quinn and Judy. At least the two blondes had eighteen years together before everything just fell to shit.

"Don't worry about me," Rachel says, attempting to dismiss Judy's worry. "You just take care of yourself and your daughter, and I'll take care of myself and mine."

Judy lets out a small laugh. "I still can't believe I'm here," she says, a hint of wonder in her tone of voice. "I have to pinch myself every time Quinn smiles at me."

Rachel grins at her. "Me too," she says, entirely too knowingly. "Don't worry - it's not something you'll get used to anytime soon."

Judy finds that she doesn't wish to.


"Please don't leave me."

Rachel can only find her wife's pleading voice amusing. Anything else, and she's going to give in. "You need this," she says instead, shaking her head. "You both need this. Baby, the two of you need to talk to each other, and you need to do that without me around."

"And Charlotte?"

"Would you rather I take her with me?"

Quinn seems to give the idea some thought. "I know you think we need a buffer, but I don't want to say something in front of her that I won't be able to take back," she says. "I can try to censor myself, but I just don't know. I don't want to scar our kid for life." She exhales sharply, and then adds, "Well, any more than I'm already scarring her."

Rachel reaches out to touch Quinn, her hands resting on her wife's shoulders. "Quinn? Baby, what do you need?"

For a moment, Quinn can't meet her gaze. But, when she does, Rachel can see the conflicting emotions in them. "Just love me," she says, and the pleading tone is much more difficult to ignore this time. "Please, just love me."

Rachel slides her hands from Quinn's shoulders, along her neck and into her hair. She tugs on the strands, knowing that Quinn likes that. "For always," she murmurs.

"For forever," Quinn mouths, no sound coming out.

Rachel wastes only a moment before she's pulling Quinn down into a tender kiss, letting her lips linger and trying to let her wife know that everything is going to be okay. Even if she doesn't really feel it. For some reason, she knows that the events of this day are going to be relationship-defining and life-changing. For the first time in a long time, she's unsure how to handle her wife. They've spent years getting to know each other and learning how to deal with each other and all the moods and all the ego and just everything.

Quinn wraps her arms around Rachel's waist and draws her into an embrace that settles every part of her body. "I love you," she whispers into Rachel's hair. "God, I love you so much."

"And that's okay," Rachel assures her. "It's perfectly okay for you to love me, Quinn. She understands that now. It's taken her years, but she's come around, and she wants to know you. She wants to know you and know your wife and know your daughter. She's wanted to know you for years, so I think it's safe to let her."

"I'm angry," Quinn says, tightening her arms as her eyes close. "I'm hurt and confused, and just so fucking angry."

"And it's okay to tell her all of that," Rachel says. "Everything you're feeling is okay. There's nothing that's expected of you, remember? You owe her absolutely nothing. You owe nobody anything. Not me, not Charlotte, and not yourself. It's okay to tell her whatever you want to tell her, okay? Just tell her. Tell her whatever you need for you, okay?"

Quinn nods. "Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

It's with a heart that feels both heavy and light that Rachel gathers Charlotte - and all her various things - up and leaves mother and daughter to talk. She knows they need this, and it'll help them both to do it as soon as possible. She offers Quinn a reassuring smile, and then she leaves, hoping above all else that she doesn't return to a - even more - broken wife.


"I thought I'd cook," Quinn says as soon as the door closes behind her wife and daughter. She's sorely tempted to run after them, but she holds her ground. She can do this. Of course, she can do this. She's been replaying this scenario in her head for years. It's just... different and all that.

Firstly, she didn't expect to be in her own home when the inevitable showdown would occur. Secondly, she didn't expect it to be at her own request, and she's still unsure how she feels about that.

"That sounds lovely," Judy says. "Can I help?"

"Sure," Quinn says, nervously shifting her weight from her left foot to her right. "Is there anything specific you want?"

"Why don't you make your favourite meal?" she suggests.

"It's vegetarian."

"That's all right," Judy says, and she means it. "Do you actually have non-vegetarian food here?"

"Unfortunately," she answers, starting to walk towards the kitchen. "I mean, besides my bacon, we keep things in the freezer for whenever we have people over. Kurt and Blaine and Rachel's parents are rather open to our chosen lifestyle, but Santana will scream bloody murder if you try to feed her vegetables."

Judy dutifully follows behind her. "Is Charlotte being raised as a vegetarian?" she asks, unable to recall if Charlotte ate any poultry from the previous night's Thai takeout.

Quinn chuckles lightly, stepping into the room that is her domain. "Not really," she answers. "Because we try to have dinner together every night, it's generally vegan food we eat, but Charlotte eats just about anything. I mean, she's almost three, so it's not like she worries too much about her own diet. She's still tasting new things and learning whether she likes them or not. We're trying not to be those parents who force things on her." Quinn smiles at a memory. "Most of the time, Rachel is actually negotiating with our two-year-old. It's hilarious."

"I can't wait to see that," Judy says, and Quinn immediately looks away.

Quinn shifts awkwardly, and then proceeds to open the fridge and study the contents. She knows what she'd like to eat, and she's going to make it. Silently, she starts to pull items out to make her famous Cheese-less Black Bean Lasagna. She's going to make it specifically for Rachel, because it's her wife's favourite dish, and it is her birthday the next day. Preparing the meal will allow them time to talk while still having something significant to do.

Once Quinn has all the ingredients she needs on the kitchen island, she goes looking for her apron - a 'Kiss the Chef' one that LeRoy Berry bought for her the first Christmas she spent with their family - and another for Judy. She hands the checkered green one to her mother, and then they get to work in relative silence. Besides the few instructions Quinn offers every now and again, they don't say much else to each other.

While Judy crumbles the tofu, Quinn cooks the black beans with tomatoes, tomato paste, onions, oregano, garlic powder, salt and pepper. It's when the various dishes are prepared and Quinn is layering the baking tray with the pasta and various sauces that Judy says the words that open the floodgates.

"I'm sorry."

Quinn freezes at the words, and then sighs in defeat.

Well, apparently, they're doing this now.


"I swear, if you check your phone again, I'm going to start thinking you don't like me."

Rachel just sighs as she sets her phone face-down on the table and gives Santana her full attention. "Sorry," she says sheepishly, her heart thumping a little too loud. "I'm just worried."

"Did Quinn give you reason to be worried?"

"Oh, plenty," Rachel says, her eyes drifting to the back doors of the restaurant, where Brittany and Charlotte are feeding the ducks in the little pond behind the building. She smiles at the sight of her daughter's smile, feeling her heart swell.

"What did she say?" Santana asks.

"You know how it is with her," she says, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Sometimes, it's what she doesn't say."

"Did she ask you to leave her at home with her mother?"

"Definitely not," she says. "It was my idea, and she eventually agreed with it."

"Did she, really?"

Rachel laughs softly, shaking her head. "Sometimes, I'm convinced you know my wife better than I do," she says.

Santana meets her gaze, hearing but not registering the teasing in Rachel's tone of voice. "The only reason that could be is possibly because we're so similar," she says. "We're... cut from the same, as it were."

"I know," Rachel says miserably.

While Santana's parents and siblings are somewhat accepting of her relationship with Brittany, her grandmother isn't. The two of them haven't spoken since Santana came out, and it's unlikely that'll ever change. Santana's parents have tried to make the old woman see reason but she won't budge, and Santana very rarely returns home for family functions. She won't go where she's not welcome, and she won't go without Brittany, anyway.

"You haven't really told me what you think about all of this," Rachel says.

Santana sips at her wine, her own eyes glancing her fiancée's way. "I guess I'm a little jealous," she confesses. "I would do just about anything for my grandmother to change her mind about me and my 'lifestyle,' but I've come to accept it for what it is. Like Quinn, I can understand what it's like to choose the love of a woman and have that make everything else worth it."

"It's a lot of pressure to put on a relationship," Rachel points out.

"I think you and Britt are doing all right," she says with a shrug. "I don't regret any of it, so I know Quinn doesn't either."

"I just don't want her to hurt anymore."

"What makes you think she hurts at all, Rach?"

Rachel raises her eyebrows, saying nothing.

Santana sighs. "Yeah," she says; "I suppose you're right."

Rachel shrugs in acknowledgement, and then says, "Just for the record, I already don't like you."


"Did you think about me at all?"

Judy isn't surprised by the question, though she does wonder at how early in the conversation it's arrived. They're diving straight in, apparently. "Of course," Judy answers, her gaze never leaving Quinn's face. "In the beginning, I thought about you all the time. I wanted to go after you, but your father refused. I - " she pauses. "After a while, I forced myself to stop thinking about you as much. It hurt too much, and I thought I didn't deserve to worry about you."

Quinn stares at her for a long time, trying to figure out what she wants to say. "Did you wonder where I went that first night?" she asks. "If I spent the night in some ditch or under some bridge like the homeless vagrant I suddenly was? Did you ever wonder about that?"

Judy blinks. "I did."

"I stayed with Brittany for one week," Quinn says. "I cried nonstop for five of those days. I was heartbroken in a way I didn't think could even exist, and I'd been stupid enough to believe I prepared myself for whatever outcome was coming my way. But, when Russell said those words, it was like a shock to my system. Maybe, in the back of my head, I allowed myself to believe in the best possible outcome. I mean, I had to have some hope, right, and I was burned by it." She looks away from her mother. "I missed you, you know? Every day. Even the bad days when I absolutely hated you, I missed you. It was all the silly things, you know? Your atrocious singing when you were making brunch on Sundays after church. Your complete inability to work the TV's remote. Your tendency to come looking for laundry at the worst times.

"I even missed Dad's lame jokes and the way he always excused himself at nine o'clock to have his Bourbon and cigar in the den. I missed Frannie's silence. I missed being able to sneak into her room, even when she wasn't around, and just feel her because, yeah, if she could get out, then so could I. And, I did. Just, not in the way any of us thought. It hurts. Just the memory of being kicked out like I'm trash burns me from the inside out. I get this ache in my chest that is almost paralysing, and I start to question everything. Every decision I've ever made. Every person who has ever treated me with kindness. Rachel calls them 'Doubting Days.'

"She's so patient with me. So loving and caring and so damn understanding," Quinn says. "I'm gay. I'm about as gay as they come. I love women. I love my wife. But there are times when I question myself. I once met this woman who said that I was just as likely to 'turn' straight as I was to 'turn' gay, and I sometimes think about that. It would make life infinitely easier if I were straight, you know? I would have an easier time in public or at interviews or just in life in general. I wouldn't have people threatening to take our daughter away from us. I wouldn't have my books being used as examples of how the Devil is at work. I would still have a family. I wouldn't have had to fight for every damn thing that comes so easily to everyone else deemed to be normal in this damn society."

For the longest time, neither of them says a word, and Quinn feels the heavy atmosphere settle on her chest, weighing her down. She doesn't want to be angry. She wants to have settled all her demons about this part of her life, but she hasn't, and it's eating away at her.

Making things toxic.

So, sucking in a deep breath, Quinn opens her mouth and says everything she's ever wanted to say to the mother who once called her an abomination.


"I see you're still alive."

To her credit, Judy doesn't startle at Rachel's sudden appearance in the music room she found during her exploration of her daughter's home. Judy does drag her eyes away from where she's staring out the window, a cup of tea wrapped in both her hands, to look at Rachel. "I suppose I am," she says softly. "How was lunch?"

Rachel steps into the room. "Good," Rachel responds. "Britt tired Charlotte out enough that she fell asleep on the way home. I've just put her down."

Judy nods. "Have you seen Quinn?"

Rachel presses her lips together, contemplating whether she should be revealing this titbit about her wife. At this point, she's already given Judy so much; what could it hurt to give her a little more? "Not yet," she says. "Her office door is closed, which means she's writing. I've come to learn it's best to let her come to me. Majority of our past fights have been the result of my pushing before she's ready."

"You are a woman with a lot of patience."

"I am," Rachel easily agrees; "but I'm also a woman with a lot of love."

"For my daughter."

"For my wife, yes."

Judy turns her body to look at her properly. "You left me and Quinn to talk," she says; "but I imagine there are also a few things you would like to say to me, aren't there?"

Rachel folds her arms across her chest. "We were together for ten months before she told me anything about her family," she says. "I asked twice before, but she didn't offer any details beyond the fact that she has parents and an older sister. I learned early on to pick my battles, and she eventually came to me and told me that she didn't speak to any of you. She was very vague with the details in the beginning, just saying you didn't react well to her coming out, and she's fine. She obviously wasn't, but I wasn't going to say anything.

"She always insists she's fine. It's like some mantra of hers, and anything else is just unacceptable. She's got herself so convinced, and it breaks my heart every time. It's something she's been working on for years, but it still plagues her. Everything about that day. Telling you her truth and having you throw it straight back at her, without a care for how it might affect her." Rachel shakes her head. "Maybe I'm projecting my own anger at Shelby on you, I don't know, but I've seen Quinn struggle with this for years. I've seen her question everyone's affection and test their loyalties. I've seen her gaze longingly at all of us when we're with our families.

"It still amazes her that my parents could love her, you know? She still gets this childish look of wonder in her eyes whenever my Dad asks her opinion on books, or whenever my Daddy invites her into the kitchen to cook with him. Do you know what it's like? To see this gorgeous, wonderful, beautiful and broken person go through that, and wonder if she'll wake up one morning and start to wonder if it was all worth it? If choosing to love you was worth it?"

Judy is unsure how to respond to that, so she says nothing. She doesn't know what it's been like for them, and she's not about to pretend to understand.

"I got scared, nineteen months in, when it was getting really serious, and we were talking about the future," Rachel says. "Quinn was coming to Columbia, and we were going to move in together, and it was as if we were deciding on our forever, you know? Here was this girl, essentially, and we were about to embark on this actual, real life, together. I freaked out a little, and we had our first, truly massive fight. I think she could sense my fear because, when it came down to it, she was willing to let me go." She closes her eyes, forcing away her tears. "She knew, even then, how hard it sometimes is to love her. She's always been convinced I'm going to leave; that I'll decide I no longer want her, and I've had to fight every single day to prove otherwise.

"You did that, with your bigotry and hatred and rejection. You did that when you let her walk out of that house and didn't go running after her. You did that when you chose not to love your daughter for being exactly who she is, and I will never forgive you that. Never." Her voice catches slightly, and she clears her throat. "Quinn needs this," she says. "She needs this, which is why I need this.

"I love her, Judy. I love her, and I've spent years being everything to her, but there's always been something missing, and you're that. Do you know what it feels like, to know that, no matter what you do or how much you give of yourself, it will never be enough, because there's a wound so deep that your presence could never heal it? Do you know what it's like to spend your days wondering if today's going to be the day when she decides you're not actually worth it?

"Quinn is an artist in every sense of the word. She's a beautiful, tortured soul, and her experiences have given her that. Her life has given her the tools and the skills to be profitable and successful, but even I know she would give up all of this for the love of her family. All the success and the accolades and fame; she would throw it all away, and I've worried endlessly if I was part of that package."

"You're not," Judy cuts in, needing Rachel to know.

"I know," Rachel says curtly. "I know. Logically and rationally, I know." She sighs. "My father, Hiram, told me, once, that if a writer, artist or creative falls in love with you; then you will never die. That sentiment has never been truer for me and Quinn. We exist in each other's lives and bodies and souls and art in a way that will always endure. I don't need you or anyone else to tell me our love is wrong, because it's not. It's never been, and it never will be."

Judy presses her lips together. "Quinn couldn't have found a better person to spend her life with than you, Rachel," she says. "Woman or not; that doesn't even matter."

Rachel swallows thickly. "That's right. It doesn't matter."

"Quinn would never give you up, unless you wanted it," she says. "She's already lost so much in this life, that she wouldn't risk losing you too."

Rachel shakes her head. "Please don't pretend to understand us. You don't know Quinn."

"You're right."

"And you sure as hell don't know me!"

Judy isn't sure where this rage is coming from, but she's going to take it and accept it and not hold it against the brunette. Judy deserves it. She deserves all of it.

Maybe her sudden acceptance shows on her face because, a moment later, Rachel gasps out loud, as if she's just coming back to herself. Rachel covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes widening. "Oh, my God," she says in surprise. "Judy, I'm so sorry."

Before Judy can get a word out, Rachel bolts from the room, clearly mortified by her own -

What was that?

Quinn.

Rachel needs Quinn.

Without giving it much more thought, Rachel heads towards Quinn's office, her intent clear: get to Quinn. With a quick knock and a rushed, "Quinn?" Rachel waits.

When she doesn't get a response, Rachel still enters the office. She can be a patient woman all she wants, but she needs affection. She needs to lay eyes on her wife, and she needs to hear Quinn tell her that everything is going to be okay.

Quinn doesn't notice Rachel's presence until there are hands on the back of her chair, and she's being spun around. "What the - " is all she manages to get out before Rachel is settling in her lap and snaking shaking arms around her neck. If Quinn is surprised, she says nothing. Instead, she abandons her typing and wraps her own arms around Rachel's waist.

For the longest time, neither of them says anything.

And then, into the softness of Rachel's hair, Quinn speaks. "What do you need?"

Rachel sighs into the crook of Quinn's neck, tightening her hold. "Just love me."

Despite the heaviness of this moment, Quinn feels herself smile as she says, "For forever."

Rachel smiles too, and Quinn can feel it against her skin. "For always."


"Should I leave?"

Quinn can't suppress her sigh, and it's a tired sound. All she wants is to get a glass of water and then return to Rachel, who's lying in bed and buried under four blankets. Charlotte is still napping - thank goodness for small mercies - and Judy is -

Well, Judy wants to know if she's outstayed her welcome.

Quinn turns her body to face her mother in the kitchen, both of them looking painfully awkward. "Do you want to leave?" Quinn asks.

"No," Judy immediately responds. "That's the last thing I want."

"Then, don't leave," she says. "It's been an emotional day for all of us, and maybe we just need to take some time, okay?"

Judy nods.

"I'm going to spend some time with Rachel," Quinn says. "When Charlotte wakes up, she'll want some attention. Give it to her. Hold her as she fully wakes, and you can give her a snack when she's said more than thirty words. There's a snack schedule on the inside door of the pantry. It's normally fruit, but it's Friday and the holidays, which means she gets a little something special." Quinn runs a hand over her hair. "I know we still have a lot of things to talk about, and Rachel is included in all of that, but I would still like you to get to know your granddaughter, okay?"

Judy nods, once more.

"Don't leave," Quinn says a beat later. "Just, don't leave."


Rachel can feel the tension in Quinn's body as the blonde holds her. They should talk, but she's unsure what to say to make any sense of this. She's surprised by her own reaction to Judy, and appalled at how it manifested. She's supposed to be the one who understands. She's supposed to be the strong, dependent one for Quinn while they all go on this emotional rollercoaster.

But, instead, her wife is comforting her, and Rachel is unsure what to feel about it.

Sighing softly, Rachel turns over in Quinn's arms and looks into cloudy hazel eyes. There are questions there, but they both remain silent. Now isn't the time for all of that. Right now, they're going to lie in this bed and try to forget that the mother Quinn was convinced would never want her is in their home.

"I love you," Quinn finally says.

Rachel rests her forehead against Quinn's cheek. "Say it again."

"I love you."


Judy isn't going to leave. She doesn't want to. In fact, it's probably the last thing she wants, right now, and she's going to sit and wait it out like the patient, understanding mother she's trying to be.

To Quinn, and to Frannie.

When she thinks about Frannie, her heart jolts. She was supposed to give her a call in addition to the text she sent telling her about her safe arrival. Making the decision, she goes to her assigned bedroom, which is warmly decorated and boasts its own bathroom, to retrieve her phone. She has the inexplicable urge to lay eyes on Charlotte, so she makes her way to the little girl's room and slips inside. She crosses the room to the little bed and peers down at a slumbering Charlotte. She's splayed out on her back, a little lamb clutched against her side and her tiny chest slowly rising and falling.

Judy watches her sleep for a while, studying her features that are so much like Quinn's, and feeling her heart ache with every breath the girl takes. She doesn't want to miss this. She's going to do everything she can not to miss this.

Gently, Judy lifts the blanket a little higher and softly pats Charlotte's chest. "You keep dreaming, Sweets," she whispers, and then chuckles lightly. "You know, I used to call Quinn that when she was little. I doubt she actually remembers, but her subconscious must find it familiar because I heard her call you that." She smiles to herself, and then steps away. She walks towards the furthest window and sinks to the carpet, resting her back against the wall and spreading her legs out in front of her. She arches her back in a slow stretch, relaxes once more, and then dials her daughter.

Blissfully unaware of the blinking baby monitor sitting on Charlotte's changing table.


"Hello, Sweetheart."

Rachel doesn't dare breathe too loudly as she and Quinn lie frozen in their bed, each of them silently debating the ethics of listening in to Judy's conversation with... Frannie. As much as Quinn wants to offer her mother privacy; there's a bigger part of her that's intrigued - curious even - to know Judy's true thoughts on the situation.

"The flight was okay. Much shorter than I remember it being." Judy chuckles softly. "That explains it. California is much further than Ohio. Forgive me. I am an old woman, remember?" She releases an audible sigh. "Things are... tense. I think that's how to describe it. I can't be sure. I'm flying blind here, but I'm willing to follow if they lead. I just want to make it better. I know, Frannie. I know."

In the silence that follows, Quinn's arms tighten around Rachel and her eyes slip closed.

"She's beautiful, Fran. She's grown into this accomplished, elegant, confident woman, and I sometimes just catch myself staring at her. It's almost surreal being able to see her and talk to her and..." she trails off. "Of course, I'm not naive enough to think we can just fix everything in a few days, but I want to get to know her. For real, this time. Properly. With no expectations, and no pressure. I worry about that, you know? I don't want to make this whole trip into such a big thing where everything is supposed to happen, because I don't see how either of us is supposed to live up to that."

Rachel presses a kiss to Quinn's jawline.

"How are the boys, by the way? I haven't even asked. I miss them, too. Tell them I'll see them for New Year's. Oh?" Judy's surprise is clear to hear in her voice. "You would actually want to do that? Are you sure? I don't know, Sweetheart. Quinn is still getting used to me, and I wouldn't want to tack on her sister and nephews to an already fragile situation. I know. Tell you what, we'll play it by ear, okay? I would love to see you sooner, of course, and I know you'd like an opportunity to talk to your sister, so we'll see what happens, okay? I know.

"Yes. Charlotte is as cute in person as she is in her pictures, if not more. She's a talkative little thing, which Quinn says she's inherited from Rachel. Well, yes. I think, among all the Fabray women of our little family, Quinn has managed to find the best spouse."

"Isn't that the truth?" Quinn murmurs.

Rachel smiles because she can.

"Is she taller in person?" Judy says with a laugh, and Rachel grumbles something under breath. "Sweetheart, you're too much. She's lovely. Fierce and loyal and so loving. She's one of those who cares with all she is, wearing her heart bravely on her sleeve, and it's easy to see why Quinn is so enamoured with her. Gosh, Frannie, you should see the way they look at each other. The level of respect and understanding and love; it can fill the room right up until you're practically suffocating. Haha, okay, maybe that description isn't the best I've had, but you understand what I'm trying to say. Quinn is the writer here. Not me.

"Have I changed my mind? About what, dear? Oh. Well, yes. I wouldn't want to overwhelm them. Maybe I'll pass it along next year or something. Frannie! You take that back. I'm not... a chicken. Did you just call me a chicken?"

Quinn chuckles, despite her confusion.

"I think it's a bit stalkerish to present them with a scrapbook of every mention of Quinn in Lima. I mean, as far as I know, she hates that town, and I don't think bringing it up at all is a good idea. Oh, we're... okay, I guess. We've done a lot of talking today, and I think we're all a little emotionally exhausted. I think they're catching a nap. I'm in Charlotte's room, watching her sleep. Frannie! That is not what a stalker would do. You're too much." Judy laughs. "Yes, I'm going to keep trying. I'll bring up the idea of your visiting if things keep going well, I promise. Keep your calendar open. I know you're just pretending - you're really a social butterfly. Don't lie to your mother, now.

"Is Ashley going to be spending any time with the boys this holiday? Cabo? With his new girlfriend?" She huffs in annoyance. "Men. Hah. I'm going to tell Quinn you said that. I am. Definitely. She'll get a real kick out of knowing that you think she's got life figured out by staying as far away from men as possible."

And, almost predictably, Quinn does.


Judy is in a much better mood when she eventually gets off the phone with Frannie. She misses her daughter, and she tries to come to terms with her feelings about, essentially, choosing to spend the holidays with Quinn over Frannie. There's a bit of guilt, of course, but Frannie understands. She's been blessed with that much, at least: understanding daughters.

She can only hope they're forgiving too.

Judy is startled out of her thoughts by the sight of little feet suddenly at her side. Her eyes drift upwards to find Charlotte standing there, one hand clutching her lamb and the other rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Hi," Judy whispers, her arms automatically opening in invitation.

Charlotte doesn't even hesitate - which stirs warmth within Judy - before she's practically falling into Judy's embrace. Like Quinn said, Judy just holds her as she wakes fully, gently rubbing a hand over her back and letting her come back to reality slowly. It takes longer than Judy expects, but she's not complaining.

Because, well, once Charlotte starts talking, she doesn't want to stop.

"Are you sad, Gramma?" Charlotte asks.

"No, Honey," Judy immediately says, a little thrown by the little girl's ability to pick up on her emotions. "Just a little tired."

Charlotte grins at her. "You nap," she declares.

Judy chuckles. "But, if I catch a nap, who's going to give you a snack?"

Charlotte's eyes light up. "A snack?"

Judy pokes her gently, and she scrambles to her feet. With all the seriousness in the world, she holds out a hand as if to help Judy up, and there's such a profound innocence to the action - that she doesn't even realise she is somewhat incapable of doing - that tugs on Judy's heartstrings. Judy reaches out to smooth down Charlotte's hair. "You're very special, did you know that?" she whispers.

Charlotte gives her a curious look before she nods. "Momma says that all the time."


It's almost an hour later that Quinn emerges from the Master bedroom and finds her mother and daughter watching approved cartoons in the TV room. They're sitting on the main couch, Charlotte curled up in Judy's lap, and it constantly amazes Quinn how wonderful her daughter actually is.

Quinn watches them for a few minutes before she enters the room, drawing attention to herself.

"Mommy!" Charlotte immediately squeals, jumping up and making Judy gasp as she immediately reaches for Charlotte's waist, so she doesn't go flying. Completely oblivious to the danger, Charlotte raises her hands towards her mother, and Quinn scoops her up. With a tickle to her tummy, Quinn hangs her upside down and delights in Charlotte's excited shrieks and desperate pleas.

"Were you a good girl?" Quinn asks, unable to stop her own grin.

"I was good! I was good!" Charlotte says breathlessly.

Eventually, Quinn rights her and brings their faces close together. "It's Momma's birthday tomorrow," Quinn says.

"I know!"

"Do you want to help me bake a cake?"

Charlotte nods her head vigorously, and Quinn has to lay a hand on the back of her head to stop her before she hurts herself.

"Okay, then," Quinn says, and then starts to carry Charlotte to the kitchen. She stops just before the door, and then glances over her shoulder at Judy. "Mom, you coming?"


While Rachel acknowledges her wife's somewhat pedantic trait of wanting to keep everything clean and spotless and perfect; she is immensely relieved to find the absolute mess that is their kitchen when she finally emerges from her self-imposed isolation. She bursts out laughing at the sight of three blondes covered in flour, all of them with easy, happy smiles on their faces.

"What happened here?" Rachel asks, and Quinn casts a guilty look her way.

"Nothing," Quinn immediately says. Then: "It was Charlotte's fault,"

The little girl in question looks confused for a moment before she points at Judy. "No, it was Gramma."

Judy laughs as she shrugs. "It was me, indeed."

Rachel and Judy exchange a significant look and, from that one moment, they both know that all is good.

Quinn glances between them for a moment before she settles her gaze on Rachel. "We're trying to bake you a cake," she explains. "Well, I'm trying to bake you a cake, and these two are just here to make a mess and make my job infinitely more difficult."

Rachel shuffles into the room towards where Charlotte is - perilously, in Rachel's opinion - perched on the kitchen island. She kisses her daughter's forehead, unconcerned about getting flour on her own self, and then moves to Quinn. There's zero hesitation on either part as the two women meet in a soft peck of lips. They stare at each other for another moment, and then Rachel risks a look at Judy...

To find the woman beaming at them.

For the first time, Rachel is really convinced that everything can and will be salvaged.


Which is a feeling that disappears the moment Rachel opens her eyes on the morning of her thirty-fourth birthday. It's the second time she's woken up in the last eight hours but, this time, her wife's head isn't between her legs and Quinn isn't singing 'Happy Birthday' into the very depths of her soul. It's the greatest midnight wakeup she's ever had, and Rachel immediately reaches out with her right hand for Quinn.

Predictably, said wife is absent from the bed.

Sighing softly, Rachel shifts into a sitting position and reaches for her phone. She knows it's going to blow up, and she's muted nearly all notifications in an attempt to get through this day as easily as possible. She appreciates all the well-wishes from her fans, but it can be deathly overwhelming.

She does have messages from her parents, which she replies to immediately. They'll be around after lunch, and that thought puts Rachel on edge. She's unsure if having Judy and her fathers in the same place is going to be a good idea, but what can they do now?

Rachel's musings are interrupted when the bedroom door suddenly opens and Charlotte comes running in. Her little legs can carry her only so fast, and she has to try three times to climb onto the bed - Rachel has to help her because this bed is quite high - to wish her mother a happy birthday. She practically screams the words into Rachel's ear, and Rachel's forced to pull back before Charlotte does significant damage.

Quinn chuckles from her position in the doorway, a tray held securely in her hands.

"We made pancakes," Charlotte says. "Mommy says it's special because you eat it in bed." Then: "Why don't I get to eat in bed?"

Rachel hugs Charlotte tightly, and then shifts her to sit at her side. She wants her close.

Quinn sets the tray in Rachel's lap. and then kisses her 'good morning.' "Happy birthday, Beautiful," she murmurs, lips against lips, and then straightens. "We've already started the cooking," she explains. "Uh, Judy and I are taking care of most of that, so you get to relax and enjoy a restful morning with our daughter."

Rachel looks up at her, questions in her eyes.

Quinn just smiles and bends to kiss her again. "I'm fine. We're fine. I love you."

It's enough to get Rachel to let her go.

Charlotte steals her attention a beat later and, yes, she's going to enjoy a restful morning with their daughter.


It's surprising to Quinn how well she and Judy actually work together. They don't talk much, which she suspects actually helps. There's a part of Quinn that wants to confess to Judy that she and Rachel heard her end of her phone call with Frannie, but she really doesn't know how to start that conversation. She's given it a lot of thought, though, and, after some discussion with Rachel, she thinks she could get on board with having Frannie here for the holidays.

So, she's going to wait. Maybe Judy will bring it up, or maybe she won't.

Either way, Quinn is surprisingly content.


Despite the ease through which Rachel gets through her morning, she knows this evening's proposed festivities are going to be... difficult. It's important to her that she prepares Judy for the potential incoming hostility. After spending hours being talked at by Charlotte, Rachel is able to fit in a relaxing bath before she makes her way to the kitchen. She's expecting to find her wife hovering over the stove but, instead, she finds Judy wiping down counters.

"Good morning," Judy says as soon as she spots Rachel, brightening instantly. "Happy birthday!"

Rachel automatically smiles. "Thank you, Judy. Truly."

Before the moment can turn awkward, Judy says, "If you're looking for Quinn, she and Charlotte just popped out to the store to pick up a few things."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Is that code for 'they went to pick up my birthday present?'"

Judy chuckles. "I can neither confirm nor deny," she says, and the atmosphere grows blessedly lighter.

Rachel shifts her weight to her right foot and presses her lips together in thought. "I think it's good they're not here, right now," she says. "It gives us a bit of time to talk."

"Oh?"

Rachel nervously bites her bottom lip, searching for the words. "About yesterday - "

Judy gently cuts her off. "It's okay, Rachel," she says. "Truly, it is."

Rachel sighs. "I thought, after all the emails, that I managed to get it all out, you know?" She sounds defeated, even a little irritated with herself. She's supposed to be the strong one for Quinn, calm and composed as they go through this transition. "Apparently, I didn't, and I think having you here makes it worse." She visibly shudders. "It's just, well, you look so... normal. When Quinn talks about that last day, I imagine... monsters, but you're just this woman; this human woman, and I'm not sure what to do with that."

Judy remains silent, just letting her speak.

"We want you here," Rachel says. "We definitely wouldn't have invited you here if we didn't. It's never been about attacking you. We just want to understand."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Please don't be," Judy says. "It's fine."

They descend into a slightly-awkward silence, which Rachel breaks a full two minutes later. "You should probably know that my parents aren't your biggest fans," she says, suddenly feeling immensely awkward. "Like, at all."

Judy shouldn't be surprised by that, but it does put her a little on edge. She doesn't exactly feel 'unwelcome,' but the day is still young, and there are plenty of people expected to arrive to celebrate Rachel's birthday.

"Even though Quinn doesn't talk about her experiences, she writes about them," Rachel explains. "She writes letters and short stories for us, at every birthday and Christmas and Hanukkah and all that. She gives us pieces of herself, and they know the hurt." Rachel contemplates elaborating and, ultimately, decides to. "My Daddy, that's LeRoy, was sent to live elsewhere when they learned he was gay, and my Dad, Hiram; his family doesn't acknowledge that he has a husband or daughter, and he only ever visits them alone. They know what it's like, and it's something that Quinn has shared with them, and I'm unsure how they'll react to you."

"That's okay," Judy tries to reassure her. "I'm sure I can handle it."


No.

No, she can't.

It starts the moment Rachel's parents arrive, one of them asking, "Is she actually still here?" and it goes downhill from there. It's not even that they're openly hostile, because they're not, but Judy still feels their animosity rolling off them in waves. She feels it in her very bones. It's in every word that is and isn't said, and every look that is and isn't thrown.

It gets exponentially worse when Santana and Brittany arrive, the Latina open with her hostility. Quinn tries to get her to tone it down, particularly in front of Charlotte, but it's difficult and awkward and Judy wants to hide somewhere.

But, no.

No.

She's going to face it and accept it and move forward with it.

By the time the get together is in full swing, Judy has spent most, if not all, of her time with only Charlotte, who seems to pick up on Judy's unease. The toddler keeps bringing her sweets and chocolates, already knowing that this is a version of comfort to which Judy will be unable to say no. It's cute and appreciated, even though her pile of 'gifts' is threatening to fall off the edge of the coffee table.

Quinn and Rachel's circle of friends is all in attendance, and Judy actually gets to see Santana, Brittany, Kurt, Blaine, Noah and Meghan as they all move around the loft with a certain comfort that Judy does not have. She's greeted them all, even exchanged a few words with Meghan about baby Ryan, but now she's sitting on the end of a couch, quietly observing.

Also in attendance are people Judy has heard the names of but never seen their faces. Marcus is here with his wife, Stacey. Tom, of course. Quinn invited two colleagues from work, and Rachel has a few former cast mates currently locked in a discussion about the upcoming Broadway revival of Evita. There's talk of Rachel starring, but she's acting coy. She's going to have to discuss it with Quinn, particularly if they're expected to be in Los Angeles for preliminary work on 'Wish I Never Met You.'

Judy watches this all with a sense of morbid fascination. This is her daughter's life. These are her friends, and this is her family. Judy doesn't quite belong, and that fact is made so abundantly clear in this very moment.

But then Quinn will look at her, just for a moment, while she's in the middle of a conversation with someone, and Judy will feel her heart stutter. Her daughter is looking at her and seeing her, and she's wanted. By some cosmic miracle, Quinn actually wants her here, so, whether she belongs or not, she's not leaving.


"You're not exactly what I imagined."

Judy startles at the sound of the voice, and then visibly flinches when Noah throws himself onto the couch beside her.

"Meg and I had a bet going," he says, his eyes on hers; "on whether or not you would bolt the first night. We also debated whether you would try to get Quinn to 'see the light.' It's good to see you haven't. You just earned me a night with no nighttime wake-ups."

Judy isn't sure how to respond to that, so she doesn't.

"Is this what Quinn is going to look like when she's older? Because you're kind of hot for an older woman, you know?"

For her part, Judy is convinced he's joking until she realises his facial expression is dead serious. "I'm quite certain I'm almost double our age," she says.

"Not quite," he says coyly. "And, I was explicitly told by my wife that I get a Free Pass if ever Quinn wants to sleep with me, but we both know Q loves her wife too much, so you're the next best thing."

Judy looks horrified for two seconds, before she realises he's laughing this time.

"I'm kidding, Mama Fabray," he says, looking deathly amused. "Though, you really aren't what I was expecting."

Judy shifts slightly, unsure if she's allowed to be comforted by the ease with which he's speaking to her. "What were you expecting?"

"A monster."

Judy's breath catches.

"There's this piece Q once wrote about the monsters in the closet," he says, suddenly serious. He even straightens his spine. "It's this pretty dark tale about a girl fighting to break out of the closet, and how she has to go up against all the 'monsters' determined to keep her locked away. I don't know why, but I've always just seen you that way, but you're obviously not." He tilts his head to the side. "I was Rachel's friend first, sure, but Quinn is my girl." He smiles almost wistfully, and Judy acknowledges that maybe every man in Quinn's life is destined to fall a little bit in love with her. "I'll protect her to my death," Noah says. "If she has the capacity to forgive you, then so do I."

Judy is unexpectedly touched by his sentiment. "I will keep that in mind, Noah. Thank you."

He pats her knee once, before he rises to his feet. Evidently, he can't resist saying, "You are kind of hot, though." He almost leers at her. "For an older woman."


Rachel smells the cinnamon of her wife before she feels strong arms slide around her waist from behind. Quinn rests her chin on Rachel's right shoulder and audibly inhales. Just that action alone starts a fire in Rachel's belly, and she finds herself leaning back into Quinn, soaking up her warmth. The two of them are standing in the corner of the living room, their friends and family all around them, and Rachel is feeling content.

"I love you," Quinn murmurs, turning her head and pressing a kiss to the skin of Rachel's neck. "I can't wait until I can get you alone again."

Rachel's breath hitches. "We can sneak away right now."

Quinn chuckles, her body vibrating against Rachel's. "This is your party," she points out. "We can't just leave."

"Yes, we can," Rachel immediately argues. "We can, because it is my party. I can do whatever I want."

Quinn is about to respond when Kurt shouts: "Picture!"

It takes them an obscenely long time to get into position for the group picture, each of them vying for position. Rachel sits on the couch's centre, Charlotte tucked away in her lap, and everyone falls in around them.

Well, everyone but Judy.

Blaine sets up the timer on the camera and grins knowingly at them. "This is it, people," he says. "When we all post this picture tonight, everyone is going to know you were invited to Rachel Berry's exclusive birthday get together."

Kurt waves an impatient hand. "All right, all right."

From her seat beside Rachel, Quinn casts her eyes around the room until they settle on Judy, who's dutifully standing off to the side. "Wait, wait," Quinn suddenly says, and she uses Rachel's firm squeeze of her knee as permission. "Mom?" she calls out, and Judy's eyes snap towards her. "Get in the picture."

To her credit, Judy hesitates for only a moment before she's moving. Noah extends an arm, and Judy easily slides under it, joining the picture.

Joining the family.


"Mom?"

Judy looks to Quinn, accepting the slice of birthday cake her daughter hands her with a quiet 'thank you.'

"Is everything okay?" Quinn asks, noticing the almost nostalgic look on her mother's face.

"Everything is wonderful," Judy says, and she means it. "It truly is." She sighs. "It just pains me that I can't quite remember the last time we celebrated anyone's birthday like this, just with friends and family; just enjoying one another's company."

Quinn gives it some thought. "I don't think we ever did."

"I'm sorry for that," Judy says. "I did so many things wrong with you and your sister, and I don't even know how to begin to make it up to you."

There's something in her tone of voice that forces Quinn to make the decision. She's already discussed it with Rachel, but the decision is, ultimately, hers. "I should tell you something," Quinn says. "We have a baby monitor in Charlotte's room."

It takes Judy a moment but, when she does catch on, her eyes widen. "Oh."

Quinn looks a little guilty for a moment, and then she smiles. "That thing you weren't sure you were going to ask," she says; "the answer is yes. You should get to spend the holidays with all your family too."

Judy looks at her for the longest time. "Are you sure?" she asks.

"No," Quinn admits. "Yes."

Judy nods. "Okay."

Quinn chuckles. "You understood that?"

Judy reaches out to touch Quinn's forearm, making the first physical contact since Quinn was eighteen years old. She stares at her own hand against her daughter's skin, their complexions similar, even though Quinn's skin is softer, less worn with age. "I know it might not seem like it, but I do know you."

Quinn arches an eyebrow in question, and then smiles. "You do, don't you?"

"You're my daughter."

Quinn steps closer to her. "I am," she agrees. "For a while, I absolutely hated that fact."

"But not anymore?"

"Yes, Mom," she says. "Not anymore."


.


It gets easier after that.

Quinn can't really say how or why, but it does. The days start to blend into one, and they fall into a nice routine of complete holiday bliss. Sure, there are still conversations along the way, with Quinn asking her questions as they come to mind. It takes her a while to bring up Russell, but Judy is patient and giving of any and all information.

"Last I heard is he's dating a tattoo artist half his age in Toledo," Judy replies, and Quinn lets out an unexpected laugh.

"Sorry, Mom," she says. "I know I shouldn't laugh, but that's just fucking hilarious."

For whatever reason, Judy starts to laugh as well, and that's how Rachel finds them a few minutes later as she and Charlotte practically dance their way into the kitchen. It's relatively early on Thursday morning, and they've managed not to explode in the one week Judy has been in New York with them. Having her around has been quite nice, Rachel muses. It allows her and Quinn to have their own extended afternoon nap - which may or not include an afternoon romp between the sheets - because Judy is around when Charlotte wakes from her own nap.

Rachel's parents have also toned down on their hostility, recognising Judy's efforts for reconciliation. If Quinn can be open and somewhat forgiving towards her, then they probably can as well. Santana is still prickly, but she's not derisive in Judy's presence anymore, and all their friends and family have been in and out of the Berry-Fabray home in a steady stream of visitors over the last few days leading up to Christmas. They'll all be having dinner together on Christmas Eve - Quinn is cooking the ham and its vegan alternative - because everyone else has other familial commitments on the actual day.

It's really turning into a lovely, busy, family-filled holiday.

"Mommy!" Charlotte says excitedly when she spots Quinn, and she runs to her, immediately getting scooped into strong arms. "Morning, Mommy."

"Good morning to you too, Sweets," Quinn practically sings as she presses kisses to Charlotte's cheeks and forces a giggle from the toddler. "Did you say hello to your grandmother."

Charlotte looks at Judy. "Hello, Gramma," she says happily. "Pancakes?"

All the adults laugh, and Charlotte's gaze moves between them. "Sure, baby," Quinn eventually says. "We can have pancakes. Do you want the bunny shape?"

Charlotte nods vigorously, and then asks to be let down.

Quinn obliges, and they all watch her scamper off. Quinn raises questioning eyes at her wife.

Rachel shrugs. "I'm going to guess Paw Patrol, but those things all kind of blur into one nightmare, really."

Judy laughs. "I quite like that one."

Quinn stares at her. "You know, now that you've said that, you're always going to be on cartoon-duty."

"I wouldn't mind," Judy admits softly; "I just like being able to spend time with her." Her confession turns the air in the kitchen heavy with emotion and understanding and... longing.

Rachel clears her throat. "So, Judy, what time are Frannie and the boys getting in?" she asks, breaking the moment and allowing the two somewhat emotionally-confused blondes a moment to compose themselves.

"Uh, at noon," Judy answers, her mind failing her for a beat. "Yes. They should be landing at noon."

Rachel nods. "So, what are the plans?" She looks to Quinn, who just shrugs. With a shake of her head, Rachel looks at Judy. "I think maybe you and I should pick them up," she says, "and then we can maybe meet Quinn for lunch at a restaurant, or we can come straight here and have our flighty blonde's stress-cooking."

Quinn exaggerates a gasp. "My own wife. I never."

Rachel giggles softly, and then crosses the room to press a soft kiss to Quinn's pouting lips. "Everything I do, I do for you."

"And now you're quoting song lyrics," she says with an eye-roll. "What is the world coming to?"

Rachel just kisses her again, and then looks at Judy. "How does that sound?" she asks. "Or, would you rather go alone? Tom will take you, and you and Frannie can touch base before you get back here."

Judy seems to mull it over. "Maybe - maybe I should go alone," she says.

Rachel nods, unsure how she actually feels about that. It's probably the best plan of action, though, and it'll offer the small family some time alone before the rest of the Fabray clan descends on their Tribeca home. From Judy's stories, it's made apparent that Brendan and Reese can be quite the handfuls. Rachel even took the time to purchase some age-appropriate games and toys to keep them occupied for the duration of their stay.

It's definitely going to be an interesting few days.


Once all the decisions are made, the four of them go about their day as if it's any other day. Quinn can feel herself getting tenser, but she pays no attention to it as she immerses herself in her daughter and her wonder at the very idea of Christmas. Quinn doesn't remember being as enamoured by the 'magic' of Christmas the way Charlotte is. In terms of religion, Quinn still tries to make it to church when she can, but her relative fame has made it a little more difficult.

She's been condemned enough times.

She still believes, though, in God and in His love for her. It wasn't easy for her to reconcile her own faith with her religion's supposed views on her sexuality, but she's managed to do it, and she's thankful for that extra bit of reassurance within herself. She wrote about it quite extensively in 'Graceless,' which had quite the number of religious institutions in uproar. Quinn has and will never shy away from speaking her words, and she's just glad to be able to give people something to talk about.

Before Judy leaves, she squeezes Quinn's hand, hugs Rachel and presses a kiss to Charlotte's forehead, and then she's gone.


Rachel watches her wife like a hawk. She knows Quinn can feel her stare, but neither of them is talking. In fact, Quinn is barely looking at her, but the tension in her body is plain to see. And feel. It's the reason Charlotte is currently curled up in her lap, her tiny palm pressed to the side of her neck and soothing her mother's racing pulse.

It takes Rachel fourteen minutes to make the decision to stand and cross the room to her family. Without requesting permission, she wraps them both in her arms and squeezes as tightly as she can without hurting either one. "I love you," she whispers. "I love you. I love you."

Before Quinn can even respond, Charlotte is speaking. "I love you too, Momma."

Rachel lets out an amused breath, and kisses Charlotte's forehead. "You are so special, do you know that?"

Charlotte nods. "I know," she agrees happily, blissful and beautifully unaware. "Even Gramma says."

Quinn exhales sharply.

Rachel kisses Quinn's temple. "What do you need?" she whispers, but Charlotte hears her.

"Just love us," their daughter declares, and Quinn's eyes fill with tears.

Rachel smooths a hand over Charlotte's hair. "For always," she murmurs.

"For forever," Quinn finishes, hugging her family close.


It's a complete whirlwind when Frannie and her two sons arrive, like some kind of unstoppable wave that doesn't offer you any time to get out of the way. Quinn is overwhelmed the moment they step through the door, trailed by a helpless Judy and a clearly-amused Tom - who, Rachel notices, stares just a little too long after Frannie to be considered strictly professional.

Well well well.

The first thing Rachel does notice about Frannie is that she's not exactly blonde. Her hair is more brown than anything, and Brendan and Reese are both dark-haired and blue-eyed. They look exactly the same and sound the same, and Rachel is just grateful that they aren't actually dressed the same. She hates it when parents do that. Isn't it hard enough trying to tell the difference without making it even harder?

Judy has spent the last hour trying to explain to Frannie that Quinn won't respond well to being pushed, but her older daughter blatantly doesn't heed her warning and dives right in to hug Quinn.

Rachel sucks in a breath, and Tom visibly stills.

Quinn stops breathing, her body immediately tensing.

The second Frannie feels it, she immediately releases her and steps back, suddenly looking sheepish. "Hi," she says. "So, I just wanted to - "

"Frannie," Quinn cuts her off, a certain harshness to her voice that makes the very air in the room tense. "What are you doing?" she hisses through gritted teeth, her eyes hard, and Frannie recoils slightly.

"Frannie," Judy says, and then, "Quinn," but Quinn has already turned and is walking away.

Charlotte immediately follows after her, and Frannie looks nonplussed.

Judy shakes her head, sighing in defeat. "I told you not to hug her."

Rachel doesn't immediately go after Quinn. Instead, she introduces herself to Brendan and Reese, who don't really recognise her. Which, admittedly, is a relief, given that she hasn't really acted in anything child-friendly. Even she's too young for American Horror Story sometimes. They're pleasant enough, buzzing with excitement about being in New York City for Christmas.

Rachel has so many ideas for how they're going to spend Christmas Day in the city - as a family.

"Rachel," Judy says, catching her attention.

The brunette seems to snap to attention, and then smiles at her mother-in-law. "I'll talk to her," she immediately says, and then looks at Tom. "Do you mind getting the luggage into the rooms?"

Tom raises his eyebrows in question.

"The beige and the blue rooms," she informs him. "Boys in blue."

He nods, and then disappears with the twins following closely behind.

Rachel looks at Judy once it's just her, Judy and Frannie left in the main living room. "I thought the idea of your going alone was to prepare her," she says, unable to keep the accusation out of her voice.

When Judy doesn't respond, Rachel turns her attention to Frannie. "Hello," she says carefully. "I'm Rachel Berry-Fabray, your sister-in-law." There's a moment when Frannie starts to smile, but then it disappears completely when Rachel continues speaking. "Please refrain from hugging my wife without first asking permission." And then she leaves the room in search of her wife and daughter.


"Well, that went well," Frannie says uneasily.

Merely to prove that she's been spending a little too much time with her second daughter and her wife, Judy actually rolls her eyes.


"Are you going to hide in here forever?"

Quinn bristles at the sound of that. "I am not hiding," she says, refusing to look up from the laptop screen in front of her.

Rachel bypasses Charlotte, who's playing with her large wooden blocks on the carpet of Quinn's office and rounds her wife's desk. Without asking for permission, she turns Quinn in her chair and settles in her lap. "Talk to me," Rachel says, bravely pushing.

Quinn sighs, her hands resting on Rachel's waist. "She shouldn't have hugged me."

"No, she shouldn't have."

"I don't think I'm ready for this."

Rachel kisses her cheek. "What do you need?"

Quinn meets her gaze. "Can I ask for something more?" she asks, her tone serious. "Can I possibly ask you for anything more? You've given me everything."

Rachel shakes her head, her fingers sliding into Quinn's hair. "Not everything, baby," she says soothingly. "Let me give you this. Let me give you your family."


"Seriously, Frannie," Judy says, sounding equal parts irritated and exasperated. "What part of 'let her come to you' don't you understand?"

Turning away from the, once again, retreating back of her younger sister, Frannie looks helplessly at her mother. "I just want to apologise."

"I know," Judy says, injecting patience into her tone. "I know, Sweetheart, but Quinn isn't like you. She needs to settle into it, okay? There's no jumping feet first into this. Listen to me. Listen to Rachel. Pushing Quinn to talk when she clearly doesn't want to isn't going to help either of you."

Frannie sighs in defeat, and then turns her attention to Rachel, who's been watching her struggle with Quinn for what feels like a hundred hours now. If it wasn't so sad, Rachel would find it amusing. But it is sad, and all she wants is to make it better.

"What do I do?" Frannie eventually asks.

Rachel's smile is warm and understanding. "Listen," she says. "All you have to do is listen."


"Here."

If Quinn is expecting to have the moment of peace she so desperately wants, she's mistaken. She should know better. In fact, she's sure she expected to be joined by her wife at some point, but having Frannie follow her out is almost unbelievable. As a result, Quinn doesn't say anything. She just leans further on the balcony railing with her forearms and keeps her eyes facing forward.

Frannie shuffles to stand beside her, mirroring her position. "Rachel sent this for you," she says, holding out a bottle of beer. "She says it's your 'Rage-Drink.' Whatever that means."

Quietly, Quinn takes the drink from her sister and immediately takes a swig. "It means that it's the only thing I'll drink when I'm pissed off," she explains, her tone still rather clipped. "Apparently, it's the only thing that'll keep me calm. Santana refers to it as my 'Butch-Drink,' and Rachel's just trying to be kind about it."

Frannie nods in understanding, but doesn't comment.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Waiting," she says, resisting the urge to sigh in defeat. She's doing this all wrong. "I understand there are things you don't want to hear from me, and that's okay. My need to apologise to you is selfish, and I'm sorry if I'm coming on too strongly. I don't - I just - " she pauses, and then lets out an amused breath. "You're my baby sister," she says. "I should have been more for you, and I don't know how to make up for that."

"Why do you think I even want you to?"

That gives Frannie pause. "Don't you?"

Quinn sighs. "What if I don't know what I want?" she asks. "Just three weeks ago, I was certain my mother and my sister hated me and everything I stand for, and now you're both here, in my home, celebrating Christmas with me and my family. A family, might I add, that consists of a wife and daughter. It's been quite a bit to get used to."

"I can only imagine," Frannie says after a long moment. "Actually, I don't want to imagine what it's been like for you."

Quinn tilts her head. "Have you read 'Graceless?'" she asks. When Frannie nods, Quinn says, "It was exactly like that, except I was alone. I wasn't confused and I wasn't going through some phase. I wasn't some sinner or some abomination, Frannie. Rather, I was sure. I was certain, and you and your family forced me to pay the price for being exactly who I am." Quinn shifts to face her sister fully. "You think this is a choice, don't you?"

"I - "

Quinn raises a hand to silence her. "Maybe you don't think it now, but you thought it back then," she says. "You thought I chose to be like this, and you were wrong. God, if I had a choice, I wouldn't have chosen this for myself, or for Rachel. Definitely not for my daughter." She takes a breath, as if she's steeling herself for her next words. "I would not have chosen to be kicked out of my house and family. I would not have chosen to live a life where I am ridiculed and judged for deigning to go against what is believed to be the natural order. I would not have chosen to have to fight so fucking hard for acceptance and basic rights. Believe me when I tell you I would never have chosen this at all.

"But, there is a woman in there who makes my heart sing. She lights up my entire world, and I love her with every fibre of my being. I've never understood how that can be wrong. I've never understood how someone can look at me and tell me to my face that the strength and purity of this love I feel inside of me is unnatural. I've never been able to wrap my head around how people can deny something that is, essentially, good when they're perfectly fine with corruption and racism and sexism and poverty and all those inherently bad things."

Frannie doesn't try to say anything this time.

Quinn deflates. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she immediately says. "I'm the one who's supposed to be doing the apologising here, remember?"

Quinn turns her head to study her sister. "Did you ever miss me?"

"All the time."

"Then, why didn't you call?" she asks. "I mean, before," she adds. "When I was still in high school and you were out in the world; even then, you started pulling away from me, and I've never been able to figure out why."

Frannie drops her gaze in shame. "I don't have the right words to explain that, Quinn," she says. "I - I got lost when I left home. Life and school and pressure all caught up to me, and I didn't know how to be the big sister you deserved. I still don't."

"All you have to do it show up, Frannie," Quinn says. "It's all I wanted back then, and it hasn't changed since. All you have to do is show up, and just know it means the world."

Frannie nods. "I'll remember that."

Quinn takes a swig of her beer, and then grimaces. "God, this stuff is awful. Why am I drinking it?"

Frannie laughs out loud. "If that isn't a sure sign the rage is gone; I don't know what is."

Quinn bumps her with her hip. "Shut up."

They exchange a look then, and Quinn suddenly knows that everything is going to be okay. She doesn't know how she does, but she's suddenly certain.

Beyond a doubt.

This family they have; it's going to be just fine.


Rachel has to force herself not to jump to her feet when she spots Quinn and Frannie walking back in from the balcony. They're actually smiling, so she feels some of her unease dissipate slightly, but she's still wary. She doesn't know Frannie as well as she does Judy, and she's still unsure what to make of her.

Time will tell, she supposes.

When Quinn goes towards the kitchen, Frannie comes to sit on the couch near Rachel, absently asking her sons if they're enjoying the Transformers they're playing with on the thick carpet. Frannie can practically feel Rachel's gaze on her, so, when she's sure the twins are occupied, she turns her focus on the brunette.

"We talked," Frannie says. "I - I think we might actually be okay." There's an air of wonder and disbelief in her tone of voice, and Rachel recognises the Quinn-effect at work. Her wife can be so disarming sometimes. "Maybe not today, but one day, and that's so much more than I could ask for."

Rachel smiles at her. "I'm glad you're here, Frannie," she says, and it comes out sincerely.

Frannie smiles right back. "Me too."


"Are you hiding from me?"

Quinn chuckles lightly, even as she sips at the wine she's just poured for herself. The kitchen is empty save for her and Rachel, wiped clean in preparation for the next morning's Christmas Eve breakfast. Charlotte wants waffles, and Quinn made sure they have all the ingredients.

Rachel moves towards her wife and wraps her arms around her from behind, moulding her own body to Quinn's. They both breathe out, relaxing at the contact.

"I'm not hiding," Quinn informs her, setting down her glass and turning in Rachel's arms. "I just needed some alcohol that doesn't taste like piss."

Rachel laughs, absently pressing her face into the crook of Quinn's neck. She inhales deeply, loving the lingering cinnamon that seems to follow Quinn wherever she goes. Almost instinctively, Rachel presses kisses to Quinn's skin. "Are you okay?"

Quinn's arms tighten around Rachel's waist. "I think so," she admits softly. "It's a lot, but I think I'm okay."

Rachel smiles, and Quinn feels it. "What do you need?"

The words slips out with ease. It's the simplest thing she's ever asked for. "Just love me."

"For always."

Quinn pulls back slightly and kisses Rachel's forehead. "For forever."


"Mommy! Mommy!"

Before her sleep-addled brain has her swatting at the disturbance, Quinn's eyes snap open and she's greeted with her daughter's smiling face as she jumps on the bed. Quinn has just enough time to acknowledge her relief that she's actually wearing clothes - thank you, Rachel - before Charlotte is pouncing on her.

"It's Chwistmas Eve!" Charlotte screams in excitement, and Quinn does her best not to grimace as the volume. It's way too early for this. What time is it? Where's Rachel? And, how is it possible for someone to be this excited for Christmas Eve? "Wake up! Wake up!"

Quinn groans internally as she shifts to sit up against the pillows. "I'm up, baby," she says, her voice roughened with sleep.

"You sound like a frog," Charlotte says, giggling.

Quinn barely gives her daughter any warning before she begins her tickle-attack, dropping Charlotte onto her back and making the toddler squeal in laughter. "What did you say?" Quinn asks. "What did you call me?" She lifts Charlotte's top and blows a raspberry against the skin of her stomach, which makes her shriek in excitement. "Take it back," Quinn says with a laugh as her tickle-torture continues. "Take it back."

"Mommy, no!" Charlotte laughs, trying to push Quinn's hands away. "Mommy, stop!"

Quinn is relentless, doubling her efforts and the laughter is practically bursting out of Charlotte's little body.

"What are you doing to my daughter?" a voice suddenly says, and Quinn freezes.

Charlotte uses the opportunity to scramble out of Quinn's grasp and hurry to the end of the bed where Rachel is waiting with her hands on her lips. "Momma," Charlotte says breathlessly. "Mommy was tickling me."

"I see that, baby," Rachel says, smoothing down Charlotte's hair. "Your Grandma is in the kitchen. Do you want to go help her make the waffles?"

"Yes," Charlotte says hurriedly, and Rachel helps her get down safely before she rushes off.

Rachel's attention immediately turns to Quinn, and there's something predatory about her gaze that instantly sets Quinn's body alight. "I don't know if I should be jealous," Rachel says, taking steps back until she can close the bedroom door with her foot. She reaches blindly behind her and turns the lock. "I want to be tickled too."

Quinn groans. "How is it that something so innocent with my daughter could sound so dirty with my wife?"

Rachel shrugs. "What can I say, Doc? You have very talented fingers."

Quinn swallows audibly, her mouth suddenly dry. She doesn't think her voice would work even if she tried, so she's not going to. Instead, she raises herself up onto her knees and holds out her hands. With a gentle wave, Rachel willingly approaches.

God, Quinn has never been more thankful for the sound-proofing on which Rachel insisted.


Thoroughly satisfied, and even sickeningly smug, Quinn emerges from the master bedroom almost an hour later to find her family - family - seated around the dining table eating waffles and making a general mess of the various toppings. It's a pretty wonderful sight, and Quinn's steps actually falter at how good it feels to have them all here.

In just a few hours, the rest of her friends and family are going to be here as well, and then this will surely be the best holiday they've ever had.

"Mommy," Charlotte says when she spots Quinn. "Look. I made you waffles." She points to a plate set out in front of an empty seat that is obviously Quinn's.

Quinn stares at her appointed plate, which boasts a thick waffle piled high with every topping imaginable. She has to school her features not to grimace at the sight of the strawberries, and she just catches sight of Rachel's obvious amusement. She shoots her a glare as she rounds the table, dropping kisses to the tops of her wife and daughter's heads, before she takes her seat.

"This is a heart attack just waiting to happen," Quinn mutters under her breath, and Frannie laughs out loud, which earns her a heated glare from her little sister.

Judy can watch on only in amusement, her heart swelling with warmth and happiness she's never experienced before. Almost automatically, her eyes meet Rachel's, and she just knows the two of them are thinking the same thing. It doesn't even matter what that thought is, because this is good.

This is everything.

This is family.


The day, itself, is lazy.

The kids don't bother to change out of their pyjamas, though Charlotte demands to put on her reindeer onesie instead of the Batman set in which she went to sleep. There's life and laughter in nearly every room as Rachel, Frannie and Hiram occupy the children, and Quinn, LeRoy and Judy take the kitchen by storm, mainly in preparation for the day's festivities.

Lunch is a 'help yourself' affair from leftovers and some of the freshly-prepared food. They're throwing Frannie right into the mix of things when Kurt, Blaine, Santana and Brittany arrive. For whatever reason, Santana's hostility has lessened, and Quinn reasons she got most of it out on Judy throughout the week. Baby Ryan takes a quick liking to Frannie when Noah and Meghan arrive, and he spends most of his time in her arms.

Rachel notes that Tom arrives much earlier than he initially said he would, and the man seems especially enamoured with Ryan (in Frannie's arms) today of all days. Gosh, the man is transparent. Rachel would find it much weirder if Frannie actually looked like Quinn because, seriously, that's just - no.

Just, no.

Marcus and Stacey won't be joining them, but Quinn's one colleague - young and single and not wanting to return home for the holidays - Mike Chang shows up when Hiram is attempting to lead everyone in Christmas Carols. There are two of Rachel's former cast mates - from long before any of them even became famous - who show up together. Sam Evans and Mercedes Jones are two of her closest friends in the industry, with Mercedes having released two albums of her own and Sam stepping into the director's chair.

Unknown to Quinn and Rachel, Kurt and Blaine invited their surrogate, a young woman named Nicole Herman, who's almost seven months pregnant and entirely too precious. Kurt and Blaine fawn over her, and she just tries not to be starstruck by Rachel, Quinn or Mercedes.

By the time the food is ready and LeRoy declares that dinner is served, there's a nice buzz going around. The wine is being consumed, the music is flowing and the atmosphere is warm and light. They even have a fire going, and Quinn has just managed to get the children to stop asking if they can open presents. The bottom of the tree is practically overflowing with all the gifts their guests have been piling on.

While the Berry-Fabray home is large, they do not have a table that can fit all of them, so they rather spread the food out on the dining room table, and everyone can find a place to sit in the living room, dining room, kitchen or even the den.

"Who's going to say Grace?" LeRoy asks, and Charlotte raises her hand. After a small laugh, LeRoy says, "After you, Sweets."

Charlotte straightens where she's standing and clears her throat. "Dear God," she says in her little voice, all business. "Thank you for our food and our family. Amen."

Quinn can't help her smile as she says, "Amen." Her daughter, people. Succinct and to the point. So very unlike Quinn and Rachel.

Rachel wraps an arm around her wife's waist. "We have a pretty neat kid, don't we?"

Quinn turns her neck to kiss Rachel's temple. "Indeed, we do," she murmurs. And then, louder, she says, "Let's eat!"


Quinn doesn't think she could look away from the scene before her if she tried. She knows she's not the only one... mesmerised - it's probably the wrong word to use - by the sight. She can feel Rachel's palm pressed against the inside of her thigh as they sit on a couch in the living room and watch as Brendan, Reese, Mike, Tom and Noah participate in what is supposed to be a pie eating contest.

It's a shame, really, because the pies are so good, and now they're being reduced to crumbs on the floor.

"Why did we agree to this, again?" Rachel whispers.

"I'm not cleaning up that mess," Quinn replies.

"I'm so glad we have a girl."

Quinn chuckles at the sound of that and sits back, wrapping her arm around her wife and pulling her down with her. She smiles contently as Rachel snuggles into her side, that pesky hand sliding a little higher on her thigh and just bordering on inappropriate for public viewing. Quinn even has to halt her progress with a restraining hand to Rachel's wrist.

"Baby," she warns gently, and she's rewarded with a patent Rachel Berry(-Fabray) pout.

"It's been more than ten hours since I felt you."

Quinn presses her lips together, shaking her head in amusement. "Don't you even start," she says. "You will not turn me on in a room full of our friends and family."

Rachel's eyes flash at the hint of a challenge in Quinn's tone.

"Think of the children," Quinn says, and Rachel bursts out laughing.

Rachel shifts the hand on Quinn's thigh to her cheek, turning her head to face her, even as Noah jumps up in victory. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

Quinn just smiles, and then accepts the lingering kiss Rachel places on her lips. "I think I have an idea."


"A song!" Hiram exclaims when he sees Rachel enter the living room trailed by Quinn and her keyboard. "Ooh, what are you playing for us?"

Rachel just laughs at her father's excitement, and Quinn rolls her eyes as she sets up on the couch. The two of them are, admittedly, a little unsure about performing this particular song, but they've all come so far in just a few days, and it's a song nobody's heard from them before. It's brand new.

Quinn settles with the keyboard in her lap, her fingers pressing down on a few notes to test the volume.

"It's a new one," Rachel explains. "We wrote it just this week, actually." For a moment, she looks at Judy, and there's significance in that one exchange that only Rachel and Judy will understand. This entire thing started with the two of them, anyway. "It's called If Our Love Is Wrong. We hope you enjoy."

Rachel looks at Quinn, who nods her head once, and then starts to play the first chords. Rachel comes in a few bars later, and her voice carries through the room and settles in the very hearts of every single person present.

.

I don't know how I should say it
In my mind, it's every word
That they don't wanna hear
I don't know how they might take it
Maybe you can take the pressure
And make it disappear

Throw out the inhibition
You make me feel a feeling that I've never felt before
I don't know if they're gonna like it
But that only makes me want it more

'Cause I'm nobody's but yours

If it's me
And if it's you
And if our love is wrong
Then I don't ever wanna be right
I don't ever wanna be right

If it's real
And if it's true
And if our love is wrong
Then I don't ever wanna be right
I don't ever wanna be right

Oh oh, yeah yeah
Oh oh , yeah I just want you to be mine

Why would I need their permission?
Skin and bones, I'm only human
It's in my DNA
Suffocating just to fit in
Why do I care what people say?

'Cause I'm nobody's but yours

If it's me
And if it's you
And if our love is wrong
Then I don't ever wanna be right
I don't ever wanna be right

If it's real
And if it's true
And if our love is wrong
Then I don't ever wanna be right
I don't ever wanna be right

Oh oh, yeah yeah
Oh oh , yeah I just want you to be mine

Oh oh, yeah yeah
Oh oh , yeah I just want you to be mine

.

When the song comes to an end, nearly everyone is in tears. Even the ever stoic Santana Lopez is emotional, and she hides her face behind Brittany's shoulder.

Charlotte is so overwhelmed by the emotion she can sense that she's unsure what to do for a moment. And then, grinning in victory, she shouts: "Picture!"

It breaks into the heavy atmosphere, and Blaine jumps to his feet to arrange for the 'Christmas' picture to rival all pictures.

"Everybody, get in position," Blaine says, which really means Rachel, Quinn and Charlotte sitting together in the centre of the main couch, and everybody else falling in all around them. It's less fanfare than Rachel's birthday picture, and Blaine sets up the timer quickly and painlessly. Maybe they're actually getting better at this.

"Everybody ready?"

Blaine doesn't wait for any affirmations as he presses the button, and then rushes to join them.

This first picture is solely for them, with all their faces smiling. Rachel already has plans for a framed picture above the fireplace.

For the second, Rachel turns Charlotte's face inwards, and feels Quinn's arm tighten around her. It's the one they'll post, if they decide to.

The third sees Quinn pressing her lips against Rachel's hair. This is for their family.

And the fourth is a meeting of lips. This is for the Berry-Fabrays.


Quinn is the one to declare it's time for presents, which is just as well because Charlotte is losing the battle with sleep. While Quinn and everyone else prepares for the massive exchange of gifts, Judy, Rachel and Frannie get the children ready for bed - much to Brendan and Reese's chagrin - and LeRoy and Meghan start preparing hot chocolate and setting out the cookies.

The immediate family will have a proper exchange of presents the next morning, of course, so there are still presents to come.

When Rachel returns to the living room, everything is ready and waiting, and she deposits a sleepy Charlotte into Quinn's lap before covering them both with a light blanket and pressing kisses to both of their cheeks.

"The ones on the left tray are soy milk," Quinn tells her; "and Meg is bringing Baby's cup out now."

"Was it in the fridge?"

"A bowl of cold water."

Rachel just nods as she fetches a cup for herself and Quinn, and then settles beside the two most important people in her life. Charlotte rests her head against Quinn's collarbone, turning so she can see what's in front of her. She beams at Meghan when she's given her little cup, and then snuggles into her mother's embrace.

LeRoy takes charge then, directing presents and handing out cups of hot chocolate until everyone is comfortable and buzzing with excitement - particularly Brendan and Reese, who have to be reminded that they're getting the rest of their presents in the morning.

"Ready?" LeRoy asks, clearly enjoying himself a little too much. "Go."

Quinn leans back and manages to forget the world in this moment. She just watches as her family opens their gifts, their excited faces and happy smiles warming her from the inside out. Her attention is drawn to Rachel as she hands a half-asleep Charlotte a neatly-wrapped and Berry-Fabray-approved gift from Hiram and LeRoy. Charlotte can barely open it, and Rachel smiles knowingly at Quinn.

"I think it's somebody's bedtime," Rachel whispers, taking the present back and gently prying the cup out of Charlotte's weak grip. She takes Quinn's cup away from her as well, and then watches her wife's muscles flex as she rises to her feet with ease, their daughter cradled against her chest so as not to jostle her.

"We'll be right back," Quinn says to the room, and then follows Rachel as she leads the way to Charlotte's bedroom, where Ryan is already tucked away in the cot they keep for him in the corner of the room just for moments like these. They might all belong to different blood families, but this is and will always be one of their collective homes.

It's easy once they're in the room. They have a bit of a system, and it definitely helps that Charlotte is already clean and in fresh pyjamas. Rachel moves towards Charlotte's little bed and draws back the covers before shifting out of the way for Quinn to lay the toddler on the soft sheets. While Quinn fetches Charlotte's stuffed lamb, Lamby, Rachel sinks to her knees to tuck her in.

"Here," Quinn says, handing Rachel the stuffed toy and then gently massaging her shoulders as they both stare down at the product of their love. "Baby's pretty tuckered out, isn't she?"

Rachel hums, even as Charlotte's eyes flutter. "She's had a pretty exciting day," she murmurs, and then leans forward to kiss Charlotte's forehead before putting a hand out to pull Quinn down to kneel beside her.

Once in position, Quinn slides an arm around Rachel's waist and smiles at her. "Somebody wants me closer."

"I always want you close, Doc," she whispers, reaching to steal a kiss from Quinn's lips. "Now, I do believe you have a story to tell."

Quinn chuckles lightly, her eyes drifting towards Charlotte. "A story, huh?"

"It's twadition, Mommy."

Quinn gives it some thought, and then settles on her heels to get more comfortable. She clears her throat softly, and then starts to speak.

Momentarily forgetting about the baby monitor sitting on Charlotte's dressing table.


It's Meghan who notices first, the quiet voices coming out of the linked baby monitor she's had clipped to her hip since she set down Ryan almost an hour ago. It draws her attention, and then Noah's, and, eventually, everyone has quieted down enough for them all to hear Quinn's gentle voice filtering through.

"A story, huh?"

"It's twadition, Mommy."

In the silence that follows, Hiram reaches for LeRoy's hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. When Quinn starts speaking, nobody so much as breathes too loudly.

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away," she starts, which gets a small laugh out of Rachel. "Hey. Don't laugh. This is my story."

"I'm listening."

They all are.

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a princess named Charlotte, who lived with her two mommies."

"And her two grandpas," Charlotte adds, her voice barely there.

"And her two grandpas, indeed," Quinn allows. "Charlotte had a lot of family and a lot of friends and all the stuffed animals she could ever want, but she always knew there was something missing."

"A daddy?"

There's a collective gasp in the living room, and Rachel finds that she's holding her breath as she watches Quinn work her jaw in search of the right words.

"Do you think that's what's missing, Sweets?" Quinn asks.

"No," Charlotte answers, and then yawns. "I don't need anybody else." She's quiet for a moment, and then she sleepily starts to list off all the important people in her life. "I have you and Momma and Grandpa H and Grandpa Lee and Unca Puck and Cousin Ryan and Auntie San and Auntie Britt and Unca Blaine and Unca Kurt and Auntie Meg and Mr Tom and Mr Marcus and Gramma and Auntie Frannie and Cousin Brendan and Cousin Reese and Lamby..."

There's the longest silence as those words hang in the air.

"She's asleep," Rachel eventually says.

"I barely even got into my story."

"You were taking too long," she teases. Then: "Do you ever worry about that? Charlotte asking us about her father?"

"Every day."

"Based on my own experience with Shelby, I can understand that she'll be curious," Rachel says, and Kurt, Blaine and Nicole all exchange looks. "I love my dads and I wouldn't exchange them for anything, but I couldn't quite deny myself the curiosity. Maybe daughters just need their mothers, you know?"

"I think, maybe, out of all the people we know, I would know, yes."

Rachel hums. "Maybe, after these holidays, you can start an eleven-year email single-sided conversation with Shelby."

Quinn laughs softly. "That's a lot of commitment on my part." Then: "We could try again, you know? I don't think your relationship with Shelby is unsalvageable. I mean, you guys actually talk, so that's definitely further than Judy and I were a month ago, and look at how far we've come."

"You really have come so far, haven't you?"

"How can you tell?"

"You're glowing, baby," Rachel says. "There's this air about you, and it's followed you the entire day. You're happy."

"I am," Quinn quietly admits, as if saying it too loudly will jinx it. "I thought we had a great life, you know? I thought, there wasn't any way it could get any better. I didn't deserve for it to get any better, and I wanted for nothing more because I had you and I had Charlotte, and I didn't need anyone else, but - " she pauses, and Judy holds her breath. "But it's so much better now. Charlotte's right. Now that my mom, Frannie and the twins are here; I don't need anybody else."

"Don't forget Lamby," Rachel says, and Hiram lets out a tearful laugh.

"I could never forget about Lamby."

"You know, when I sent that first email to Judy; I didn't expect any of this," Rachel muses. "I don't actually know what I expected, but reconciliation was far from my mind."

"You did all of this, you know? You, Rachel." She breathes out. "This happiness. All my happiness, it lies with only you. You've always been this shining light in my life, and I know sometimes I don't tell you this enough, but I'm nothing without you. I don't want to be anything without you. This life and this world; none of it is worth it if I didn't have you or Charlotte. I hope you believe me when I say you are and will always be all I need."

Rachel sounds teary when she says, "I believe you. I didn't always, but I believe you. Of course, I believe you. Somebody has to keep you in line."

"I'm pretty sure that's Marcus," Quinn says, and Kurt laughs, knowing that the man would definitely get a kick out of hearing that if he were here.

There's the longest silence, and the occupants of the living room are half-expecting the couple to emerge any second now. Still, the silence drags on until Rachel's voice sounds through the monitor, a whisper that may as well have been shouted from the rooftops.

"What do you need?"

"Just love me," Quinn immediately says.

"For always," Rachel returns, but her words are accompanied by Hiram, Kurt, Blaine, Tom and Brittany.

And Quinn's response of, "For forever," is said by her, Santana, Noah, Meghan and LeRoy.

Despite her tears, Judy's smile is practically frozen on her face.


Nobody says anything when Quinn and Rachel return, but the couple immediately picks up on something different in the air.

"Everything okay?" Quinn asks, her hand in Rachel's as the brunette leads them to their original seats.

"Everything is perfect," Judy answers for all of them, and there's collective nodding.

Thinking nothing of it, Quinn lets Rachel push her down onto the couch, and then saunter off to heat up their drinks. The two of them still have presents to open, but Quinn rather waits and marvels over everyone else's gifts.

"It's exactly what I wanted," Tom says, looking at Quinn. "How did you two know?"

"We pay attention," she answers, as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

"Oh, we really pay attention," Rachel says as she enters the living room, a teasing lilt to her voice. She winks at Tom when his cheeks tint red, and then moves to sit beside Quinn, close enough to be indecent.

"Thank you," Quinn murmurs, quickly stealing a kiss. "Now, open your presents."


Kurt, Blaine and Nicole end up being the first to leave, just a few minutes after Frannie puts the boys to bed. It starts a wave of departures with everyone thanking their hosts and donning their coats. In twenty short minutes, everyone save for LeRoy, Hiram and Tom have left, and Quinn, Rachel and Judy start with the cleanup, carrying dishes into the kitchen to be washed in the morning.

"Uh, Rach," Quinn says on the third trip to the kitchen. "Is Thomas making the move on my sister?"

Rachel laughs out loud. "I do believe he is, yes."

Quinn grins. "It's a Christmas miracle."

"I think it's just one of many."

Quinn sets down the dishes in her hands and moves towards Rachel, gently pressing her against the kitchen island. "Is that so?"

"Oh, yes."

"Tell me another one," Quinn says, her breath warm against Rachel's cheek.

With zero hesitation, Rachel reaches up to kiss her. She wants it to be a quick meeting of lips, but Quinn wants otherwise, and they sink into a deep kiss. Quinn's hands find purchase on her hips, as her tongue gets drawn into a warm mouth. The two of them are mid-moan when a throat clears behind them.

Quinn releases Rachel immediately, and spins around, suddenly mortified she's been caught making out with her wife by her mother. She flushes instantly, and Rachel just laughs as she runs a soothing hand up Quinn's spine.

Judy just looks amused. "Tom and your parents are set to leave," she says, absently setting a tray of empty hot chocolate cups on the island. "This is the last of it, as well."

Rachel merely nods, and then moves out from behind Quinn to say goodbye to the last of their guests.

Quinn follows immediately, unable to look her mother in the eye.

Judy can't help her laughter as she trails behind them. She hasn't seen Quinn blush like that in years.

She hopes to see more of it.

More of everything.


"I'm exhausted," Frannie complains, spreading herself out on the carpet. "And stuffed. I don't think I could eat anything for four days, at least."

Quinn, who's spread out on the couch with Rachel draped over her, just chuckles. "Did you have to pop a button on those jeans, huh?"

Frannie props herself up on her elbows, looking thoughtful. "You know, I think the kids know what's up. Life would be so much better if we could wear just onesies all day, every day."

"You should write a letter," Quinn teases, her fingers absently playing with Rachel's hair. Her wife's eyes are closed, but she's not yet asleep.

"I think I will," Frannie declares, and then lies back down. She stares at the ceiling as she releases a long sigh. "Today was a good day, Lucy."

Quinn breathes out. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?"

Rachel lifts her head, gently resting her chin on the swell of Quinn's right breast. "Can we go to bed?"

With a nod, Quinn starts to shift, and the two of them rise to their feet. Quinn walks over to Frannie and holds out a hand. "Time for bed," she says. "The sooner you get to sleep; the sooner you get to dream about Tom."

Frannie just laughs, choosing not to comment as she lifts herself up with Quinn's assistance.

"Goodnight, Frannie," Rachel says from behind Quinn, absently rubbing her eyes of tiredness. "You'll be all right?"

"Of course," Frannie says. "Goodnight, Rachel."

Rachel merely hums, somewhat sleepily, and then leaves the room.

Quinn turns to Frannie, her own goodnight on her lips, but she holds onto it when she sees Frannie almost debate with herself. "Everything okay?"

Frannie nods. Then, biting the bullet, she asks, "Can I hug you?"

Quinn is startled by the question, and she takes a tiny step back. Frannie reads it as rejection, and her face falls, which forces Quinn to push away all her apprehension. "Sure," she says.

Frannie's gaze meets hers. "Are you sure?"

Quinn allows herself to think about it for a moment, and then nods.

Frannie doesn't waste a moment as she wraps her arms around her little sister, holding her in a way she's never done before. "I am so sorry, Quinn," she whispers into Quinn ear as she feels hesitant arms encircle her waist. "I want to be a better sister to you, if you'll let me."

Quinn can only hum, unwanted tears pooling in her eyes.

They hug for a full minute, and, even then, they don't let go until another set of arms wraps around them both, which makes Quinn tense and attempt to pull away.

"My girls," Judy whispers, and Quinn settles. "My girls," she repeats.

And, what she's really saying is my family.


"I was wondering who was up and about this late."

It is late.

Late enough that Judy was convinced everyone was already asleep when she snuck out of her room and out onto the balcony off the living room, just to take in the late night. She's been overwhelmed with life and love and family, and she needs a bit of - cold - fresh air to settle her tingling skin and racing heart. This is her life. This is the life she gets to live.

"What are you doing out here?" Rachel asks, stepping through the sliding doors in her silk pyjama pants and one of Quinn's Yale sweaters. Her feet are clad in thick, woollen socks, and she looks so young to Judy.

Judy smiles warmly at her. "I thought I'd have a night cap," she says, gesturing to the bottle of wine and half-empty glass on the table at her side. "Care to join me?"

Rachel perks up, and then disappears back inside to fetch herself a glass. She's back a minute later, and settles into the lounge chair on the other side of the little table supporting the wine. Despite the time, she pours herself a generous serving, and then leans back to take a sip. She loves wine, and she loves that Judy seems to love it as well.

"Is there something on your mind, Judy?" Rachel asks, breaking their silence. "You seemed particularly thoughtful at dinner."

Judy lifts her glass to take a sip. "I was just sitting there, and I had this thought that I've honestly never felt this... happy in my entire life. Ever, Rachel. Even when I was a child. It's never left me feeling so... breathless with excitement, and there's just all this love swarming around, and it's everything." She sighs. "I have to thank you, you know? I wouldn't have any of this if it weren't for you."

"I don't know about that," Rachel immediately counters, unsure how to handle the older woman's gratitude. "I believe in fate and destiny, as you know, and, if you and Quinn were meant to repair your relationship, then it was going to happen one way or an other."

"I've suffered through three crises of faith in my life," Judy says conversationally. "The first was when I was still a child and I lost my best friend in a car accident. The second is when Quinn left, and the third is when Quinn's father and I got divorced. I believe in God. I believe in all His wonder and His love. I believe in His plan, and it's taken me a long time to realise that, perhaps, love truly does conquer it all." She looks at Rachel, slight mirth in her eyes. "I also read those Harry Potter books you told me about."

Rachel laughs. "They're wonderful, aren't they?"

Judy shrugs. "I definitely have more to talk to the twins about, that's for sure."

"Don't lie," Rachel says with a laugh. "You loved them."

"They're not bad."

Rachel can't stop laughing. "Oh, I bet you read them more than once, and you bought the film boxset."

Judy shakes her head, clearly amused. "I think I prefer Quinn's writing, definitely."

"Me too," Rachel agrees quietly. "Every year, since I met her, she writes me a story, which I know is the most expensive present she can give me." She looks over at Judy. "She gives me a piece of herself with every word she writes."

Judy smiles wistfully. "That sounds lovely."

"It's my understanding she's written something for you, as well."

"She said so, yes," Judy says, humming as she sips at her wine, and then looks over at Rachel when the brunette suddenly gasps. "What?" she asks quickly, alarmed.

Rachel's face spreads into a wide smile. "It's midnight, Judy," she says. "Merry Christmas."

Judy breathes out, feeling herself relax. "Merry Christmas, dear."

The two of them settle into blissful and comfortable silence, and Rachel feels that happiness Judy was talking about. If she's being honest with herself, she'll have to admit that her life gets better and better with every second that Quinn is in it. The blonde has given her so much, and she just knows it's going to get even better.

Happier.

Fuller.

All the good comparatives.

"Did you think it would be like this?" Rachel asks after the longest time, glancing over at Judy, who's staring out at the New York skyline with a look akin to fascination on her face.

Judy looks startled by the question. "What would be like this, dear?" she asks.

"I don't know," she says. "All of it."

Judy sighs, relaxing into the chair she's in that bit more. Her heart beats a little faster as she contemplates her response. "When I was pregnant with Quinn, I was... terrified. Frannie was already seven years old, and she seemed so... weak. Pliable, I mean. I knew, even then, that she would follow the world wherever it led her but, I knew, even while she was still in my womb, that Quinn would be different. Sometimes, I think she was born into the wrong family. Her dreams were so much bigger, and her heart was just fuller. We were always going to fail her. If not in one way, then in another."

Rachel sips at her wine. "So, you didn't think it would be like this?"

Judy laughs softly, turning her gaze on Rachel. There's something on her mind that she's unsure she'll be able to express. "Quinn was a shy child, did you know that?"

Rachel can imagine that, and a small smile spreads across her features.

"She was quiet and reserved, almost invisible." She shakes her head. "Quinn's father always tried to pull her out of her shell, as it were, by forcing her into social situations and asking her questions that demanded a response in front of large groups. When it first started, I worried she would buckle under the pressure. I thought it would all be too much, but she surprised me."

"She's constantly surprising me," Rachel cuts in, unable to resist.

Judy smiles knowingly. "But there's something about Quinn. This, almost, defiance. It's in her eyes, and they glow when she's being challenged." She sets down her wine glass on the small table between them. "Those people thought my daughter weak and malleable just because she was silent; just because she chose to exist in her own head instead of their judgmental world. But, they obviously never heard her speak." Her gaze meets Rachel's, and there's something significant there; something really damn important.

Rachel gasps, and she's not even sure why.

Judy's own gaze burns. "They couldn't know, even then, what lived behind the stormy eyes of the docile child. They couldn't know the strength of my daughter's mind, or the cutting of her words. They couldn't know." She smiles suddenly, as if she's lost in a pleasant memory. "My daughter is bold, brilliant and beautiful, and they couldn't know. She's full of surprises, taking the world by storm."

This entire thing started with the two of them, and it's bound to end with them, as well.

Judy looks at Rachel again, and she really sees her for what feels like the very first time. "They couldn't know, Rachel," she says, somewhat hauntingly; "the power my daughter possesses when she comes around."


fin


AN: Thanks for reading! I find I'm a little bit in love with this Universe, so I have a few one shots in mind of more detailed moments of Quinn and Rachel's relationship. I hope to get them out as soon as I can (a.k.a. when I eventually get around to writing them). Feel free to leave a review or PM me with a particular 'time' you'd like to see.