I am so glad people like this story. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, add this story on the various alert lists, and review. It really makes my day!

Can I just say how absolutely annoyed I am at this season? Seriously, I love Glee, but the writers are testing my loyalties. The way they handled Santana's "coming out?" The bullshit Quinn storyline? And please don't get me started on Finn. Why they continue to paint him as the "good" guy is beyond me. Rachel deserves WAY better. If you are as frustrated as I am with the direction they're taking Glee, I hope this fic and others like it are a good way to escape the madness that has devolved our beloved show.

And to the anonymous reviewer – I wish you would have left some sort of pseudonym so I could properly reply – Yes, I admit as well that Google Translate is hardly a reliable source, but my rudimentary Spanish is in no way, shape, or form up to the task of faking it. Tee hee…

This chapter has a Rachel-centered flashback, Quinn attempting to get to know Rachel to interesting effects, and we get a bit more from Duty and Honor. Have fun!


CHAPTER 3

People often said that starting high school was like starting over. That freshman year of high school offered a clean slate, a blank canvas to mold as one would see fit.

Not in Lima, Ohio. In Lima, the social hierarchy decided whether or not your daily accessory included a Big Gulp filled to the brim of flavored ice chips or whether or not you stashed an Emergency Slushie Clean Up Kit in your locker well before high school. In Lima, Grover Cleveland Middle School placed you in your appropriate slot on the social pyramid: sitting pretty on top or feeling the dig of bony knees at the bottom.

It was easy to see where Rachel Berry would land. Two gay fathers, a surrogate mother, a rather vocal ambition for Broadway, and a strange affinity for argyle had the popular elite turning their noses up at her the moment her two tiny feet – clad in saddle shoes – stepped onto school grounds.

Rachel Berry was a curious creature. Despite her small-town upbringing, her fathers had been quick to indulge her Broadway obsession, consequently opening her eyes to the greater world around her, a world she desperately couldn't wait to join. She was simply biding her time in Lima until the moment she broke out to shine. Therefore, Rachel had a rather enlightened mindset that went beyond that small-town upbringing. And so, she endured the abuse and bullying of her less enlightened classmates. After all, it would probably be a rousing tale in her future memoir about her rise to stardom. Everyone loved the underdog. Still, Rachel Berry was a strong person and with that strength came a courage of conviction that did not allow her to stand idly by as someone was being put down.

So when she saw Azimio Adams, the left tackle for Grover Cleveland Middle School's Fighting Spartans, standing over Brittany Pierce, mocking the blonde's intelligence, Rachel snapped.

"Azimio Adams!"

Rachel wasn't sure what possessed her at the moment, but she acted, storming over to the confrontation and shoving the football player back – which wasn't very far considering her stature – and staunchly placing herself in front of Brittany. As Azimio looked on with amusement, she launched into one of her infamous tirades.

"Brittany is not stupid. She may see things differently than other people, she may understand things differently than other people, and she may comprehend things differently than other people, but she is not stupid." Rachel stood toe to toe with the enormous boy, fists planted on her hips, glaring up the rather considerable height difference to his face. "She may not be traditionally smart, but she is the most perceptive person around. She just thinks a bit differently. Moreover, she does not indulge in the mindless bullying that you and David seem to have quite the proclivity for. Rather, she takes the time to be kind to everyone. In that sense, I would think she's smarter than you!"

Fueled with equal parts anger and adrenaline, Rachel reared back, kicking the bigger boy squarely in the shin. Azimio yelped, crumpling to the ground with the force of the kick. Rachel loomed over him, dark eyes fierce and flashing with ire. "So leave her alone!"

Azimio surged up, ready to give the tiny brunette a Dumpster Dive she would never forget when two large shadows appeared behind her. He wasn't the smartest guy himself, but even he knew well enough not to mess with Noah Puckerman or Santana Lopez.

Puck hovered protectively behind Rachel. "Problem here?"

"Azimio here thought it prudent to insult Brittany's intelligence," Rachel growled, staring heatedly at the offending boy.

"Now, I know you're not dumb enough to actually try that," Santana drawled, gazing disinterestedly down at her nails, resplendent in her Junior Cheerios uniform. "Especially not to my Britts."

"You went after Brittany, dude," Puck added, his deepening voice made even deeper by his anger. "That makes you lower than low. I should totally set you on fire, but I totally used the last of my lighter fluid on a set of badass fireworks."

Santana popped a hip out, eyeing Azimio disinterestedly. "We're feeling generous so we're gonna let you scurry away with a warning. Run along before I change my mind."

Azimio looked from the cheerleader to his teammate. He may be on GC's football team, but he was much lower on the totem pole than either Puckerman or Lopez. He puffed out his chest, limping away with as much dignity as he could.

Puck turned to his Jew Babe and his girl bro since like birth – a fact that only partially protected her from the cruelties of GCMS – and offered out his fist. "You got him good, Berry. Badass, Starlet."

Rachel knocked knuckles, beaming brightly. "Thank you, Noah. My years of dance training as well as my rigorous morning workout routine have yielded much lower-body strength."

Santana rolled her eyes, marching forward to stand toe-to-toe with the little diva. "Look, Hobbit, we're not friends or anything," Santana began. She breathed out heavily through her nose, looking pained as she forced the words out. "But thanks. That was cool, helping out Britts and all."

"If you're not gonna be her friend, I'm gonna be her friend," Brittany piped up for the first time. She bounced beside Rachel. "Is that okay?"

"I would love that, Brittany," Rachel beamed.

"Yay!" Brittany looked to Santana expectantly. The Latina stubbornly crossed her arms, fixing her gaze pointedly away from the tall blonde. Finally, she chanced a glance at Brittany.

Big mistake.

Huge, baby blue eyes filled her vision. They blinked owlishly, and Santana crumbled. Shoulders slumping, she uncrossed her arms, directing a reluctant gaze to Rachel.

"Alright, fine. May as well be friends, too," Santana grunted. "You'll be hanging around Brit enough."

Rachel smirked, seeing Santana cave so spectacularly. The Latina hadn't confessed any sort of fluffy feelings toward their new friendship, but Rachel didn't mind. It was a challenge, and Rachel Berry never backed down from a challenge.

"Resist if you must but I'm going to kill you with kindness, Santana Lopez," Rachel declared, a triumphant look on her face.

Brittany giggled, clapping excitedly. She flung her arms around the petite girl, giving her a strong hug that lifted Rachel off her feet. Santana snorted with a, "Whatever…" before she flounced off to terrorize the rest of the student body.

Rachel wasn't sure how these new friendships would affect her status at Cleveland Middle but she found out a few days later. Dave Karofsky, one of the offensive linemen on Cleveland's football team, had corralled Rachel just outside of her math class, hefted her under his arm like a sack of potatoes, and marched her out to where the dumpsters were. He had lifted the lid and was just about to toss Rachel in when a shout caught his attention.

"Hey, Karofsky!"

Santana strode up to the football player. "Drop the midget and step away from the dumpster."

"What the hell, Lopez?" Karofsky snarled. He lifted Rachel. "Loser." He pointed to Rachel's destination. "Dumpster."

"Berry's off-limits," Santana asserted, her best bitch face adorning her features. "You can thank your fellow lunkhead Azimio for that."

It would have been easy to just ignore the order and throw in the loser, but Santana Lopez had already been named Deanna Rodriguez's successor to the coveted head tumbler position once she entered McKinley. That appointment made her a shoo-in for captain should Sue Sylvester so feel inclined. Dave didn't hide his biggest secret for as long as he did by being dumb. Should he disobey a direct order, his first day at McKinley would be christened by a slushie facial.

Karofsky growled, setting Rachel on her feet. "Your lucky day."

Smoothing out the wrinkles in cashmere sweater, Rachel sighed, grabbing her messenger bag and slinging it over one shoulder. Santana had to admit, the girl had gotten better at dressing herself. She didn't look like a cross between a toddler and a grandma like she did in their younger years. Rather, Rachel had adopted a sort of Ivy League preppy style that actually went well with her personality.

Rachel turned and smiled that bright smile at Santana. "Thank you for your assistance," Rachel chirped, relieved at the aborted Dumpster Dive. "The limitations on my physical stature makes removing myself from the dumpster rather difficult."

"This doesn't mean I like you, Berry." A soft expression on the Latina's face belied her harsh words.

Rachel beamed triumphantly. "I would expect nothing less, Santana."

"I'll give you this, midge," Santana murmured, leading the way back into school. "You're resilient."

Sometimes, Rachel Berry could only marvel exactly how far her friendship with Santana Lopez had progressed over the years. As she removed herself from the tangle of limbs belonging to herself, Santana, and Brittany, she smiled as she thought of how far the three of them had come. Despite Santana's stubborn protests – and she was certain Santana would never admit this to anyone – she had succumbed to Rachel's kindness quite quickly. According to Santana, "No one picks on you but me." Despite Santana's harsh words there was a noble intent behind them, and she certainly stayed true to her claim. Their previous night of celebrating had been quite successful and thoroughly intoxicating, and the trio had passed out in a weird and tightly wound pretzel in the living room of their hotel suite, not even bothering to move to their respective bedrooms. Surrounded by her two best friends, Rachel felt quite warm, snuggly, and certainly loved.

Her alarm chirped, and Rachel glanced at her phone, thanking her prudent decision to set it before they had been sufficiently trashed. She noted the time, calculating had a bit over two hours before she had get to the set. Groaning at the intense ray of light filtering in from the window overlooking the balcony, she dragged herself to the shower.

Humming to herself as she got ready for work, she thought back to her high school years. It would have been so easy for those four years at William McKinley to have been absolute torture. But with Santana and Brittany, they had made it somewhat bearable. Especially since somehow she found herself as a Cheerio during high school; she expected Brittany had much to do with it. Apparently, she was perfect for the nationally-ranked cheer squad. In Sue Sylvester's words: "Your freakishly small stature is optimal for the gravity defying routine that will secure yet another national championship for my storied legend. The very minute percentage of doubters will succumb to the unquestionable truth of my vast and glorious greatness that will be highlighted with you as my principle flyer. Not to mention your racial ambiguity will no doubt fill my diversity quota. Welcome aboard."

Despite the demanding Cheerio's schedule, Rachel was adamant in joining glee club, certain the show choir would help her in her eventual rise to Broadway stardom. She was one of the first to join, dragging Santana, Brittany, and surprisingly Puck with her. However, the glee club fit into less desireable slots of the social pyramid, and as the captain, Rachel found herself in a peculiar position of the unpopular of the popular. Plus, the whole gay fathers thing was still a point of contention amongst the socially conservative majority of Lima, but again, Santana and Brittany made it so much better.

Rachel entered her trailer, opening the travel tote and letting Reno roam around. She eased herself down on her couch, opening her script to peruse her lines, a ballpoint pen out and ready to make notes. Just as she settled, she heard the beep of her text tone. Rachel glanced down at her iPhone, noting the contact name with a grin. Her brow furrowed however at the message of the contact.

We're in a fight.

Rachel rolled her eyes, idly wondering how such a manly man could sometimes be as petulant as an adolescent girl. She brought up the keypad, typing her response.

Precisely why are we quarreling?

Returning her attention to her script, Rachel made sure she knew her lines for the scenes she would be shooting. She had a couple with Quinn, a couple with Anson, and one scene to be shot as a flashback. That was the scene she was most excited for as the emotional range she would need to convey would certainly be a challenge. Her phone buzzed with the reply.

Because I had to hear you were in California through Perez Hilton. WTF, JB?

Again, Rachel rolled her eyes. She really did wonder for the boy…She was surprised at the mention of the pop culture gossip website when he mostly used the Internet for sports scores…and, well, porn.

Why are you on Perez Hilton?

His reply instantly flashed on her screen, and she shook her head at the unsurprising response. She really should have figured.

To see if he's got the money shot on some hot Hollywood cougar. Why else?

Rachel typed another quick reply. She hadn't kept in close contact with many of her former classmates, just a few of the original New Directions, but some people – like Brittany and Santana – were simply destined to be permanent fixtures in her life. He was certainly one of them. Therefore, she accepted his rather crass and crude nature with a smile and an accompanying eyeroll.

You will never change.

Again, the reply came instantly.

Duh. And we're still in a fight. I miss you!

Rachel laughed. Since he had graduated college and moved from Austin, Texas to San Diego, they hadn't had much face-to-face time aside from Skype sessions where she helped him with his math and holiday breaks – he didn't get much of a Thanksgiving one during the school year as his team was still in season. She could readily admit she missed him too.

I'll make it up to you. Send me your schedule, and we'll meet up.

That had always been their problem. He had a fairly predictable schedule: a game a week most of the time on Sundays, sometimes on Thursdays or Mondays, so that part wasn't difficult to work around. However, his travel schedule could be erratic. A game could be at home in San Diego, only to take him across the country to New York the next weekend.

Deal. I expect badass cookies.

There was something familiar in that demand. He had always been a sucker for her baking, especially her cookies. She found very early on in their friendship that he had a massive sweet tooth, a fact that she exploited rather liberally, especially when it came to glee club. Still, she couldn't say no.

Lol. Fine.

Rachel grinned, leaning back against the couch of her trailer, watching as Reno prowled idly. She had to admit that the West Coast sure had its perks.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn stepped out of her car, taking out the travel tray of coffee from the seat beside her and locking the vehicle. Tentatively, she scoped out the rows of trailers in front of her, seeking out Rachel's. She had never made any sort of step like this before to connect with any of her costars, even on the set of Queen of Babble – partially because she was certain Pierce Olivier was trying to get into her pants – and it had been years since she had made such an attempt. Ever since…well, she was a completely different person back then.

She made her way up the steps to Rachel's trailer. Reaching out a hand, she knocked softly. Almost immediately, the door opened. If Rachel was surprised to see Quinn, she hid it well, answering with a gracious smile. "Good morning, Quinn. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Hi." Quinn steeled her spine, refusing to show any sort of nervousness. She extended a hand wrapped around the appropriate travel cup. "I, uh, brought you coffee."

Rachel bit her lip, eyeing the cup closely. She appreciated the gesture, but she doubted it fit her dietary requirements.

Quinn saw the look of hesitancy on her costar's face and hastened to assure the brunette. "It's alright. It's made with soymilk. I heard you were a vegan."

The answering beaming smile halted Quinn's breath in her throat. It was as though Rachel suddenly radiated pure sunshine. Idly, she wished to do something else to induce it again.

"That's thoughtful of you, Quinn, thank you." Rachel stepped back. "Would you like to come in?" Rachel bustled around, ushering her costar into her trailer.

"Have a seat." She blushed at the general bareness of the area. "As you can see, I'm still trying to decorate a bit."

"It looks nice." God, that sounded lame even to her ears. Quinn gestured weakly around, noticing a travel tray on Rachel's vanity. "You, uh, already have coffee."

Rachel shook her head. "It's not for me. It's for my manager. Since I'm getting her up early, she's going to demand her favorite coffee. It's from that Blue Bottle Coffee Company up in San Francisco. Apparently craft services hired them to be our coffee provider, much to Santana's delight."

"Early?" Quinn looked down at her phone as she sat down on the couch. "It's almost eleven."

"That's early when you've got a hangover," Rachel pointed out, easing gracefully down on the cushion beside Quinn.

"Oh."

Quinn jumped in surprise as a gray striped cat jumped into Rachel's lap. "I, uh, didn't know you had company."

Rachel grinned, rubbing the top of the feline's head. "Meet Reno, my cat."

Quinn eyed the new arrival suspiciously. Rachel cocked her head at the curious expression adorning her costar's face.

"Are you alright with cats? You're not allergic or anything, are you?"

Quinn shrugged, still keeping her distance from the feline. "I don't know. I think my mom is so chances are so am I, but I've only had dogs as a kid, so we've never tested out that theory."

"No time like the present," Rachel declared, holding up the cat to Quinn's level. "Give her a pat. She's very friendly."

Quinn obliged, stretching out a hesitant hand. She ran her fingers through the soft fur, a different sort of texture than Charlie's. She smiled at the purr rumbling from Reno's throat. This wasn't so bad.

She must have spoken way too soon as Quinn frowned at the tickle that started to build. Her nose scrunched, and she let out a small sneeze. Then another.

Rachel grinned, barely containing her laughter as she scooted back from Quinn. "Well, my dear Quinn, it certainly seems as though yes, you are allergic to cats."

Rachel couldn't help but laugh at the dirty look Quinn shot Reno. Rachel rose from the couch and placed the tabby in her tote away from Quinn.

"You didn't have to do that, Rachel."

"It's alright, she actually prefers the bed in there anyway," Rachel placated. "Gives her an excuse to be lazy. Normally, I despise lazy people, but she is a diva like myself. I wouldn't expect anything less."

Quinn nodded as Rachel took a seat in the chair by her vanity. "So how are you liking the movie business?"

"You mean in comparison to theatre?" At Quinn's nod, Rachel frowned thoughtfully. "It's completely different," she mused. "But in a good way. It's a different challenge as an actor."

"How so?"

"Well, on stage, obviously, you don't get multiple takes," Rachel explained. "I've always thought theatre was one of the purest forms of acting."

Quinn cocked her head, curious at Rachel's rationale. "Why do you say that?"

"Think about your first acting class," Rachel answered. "I'm sure the instructor told you at some point that the basis of acting was reacting. That theory is at its purest in live theatre. Once you say a line, that's what you've said, that's how you've interpreted the part for the day. If you're not satisfied, you have to live with it until the next show. You don't get to say, 'Hang on, that was horrible. Let's do that again.'"

"That's interesting," Quinn commented. It seemed like that little monologue gave her as much insight as she would ever have to the workings of Rachel Berry's professional persona. "Is that why you pursued Broadway instead of Hollywood?"

Rachel grinned. "Well, that and I have found that I live for applause. You don't get that at the end of every take here." Rachel burrowed even further in the comfy chair in front of her mirror, sipping her coffee. "But I guess it started when I was a kid. I started singing because I had trouble expressing emotions. So I'd sing when I didn't know how to express something. I'd sing when I felt happy or when I was mad. When I sang, I felt more, you know?"

Rachel shrugged. "Singing has always made me feel more connected to my humanity, I guess."

Quinn didn't answer, merely nodded her head. She knew exactly how Rachel felt. That was the purpose acting served for her.

Both stars glanced up as the door to the trailer banged open and Santana trumped in. She didn't look entirely put together as she stumbled down onto the closest corner of the couch. Bleary eyes honed in on Rachel.

"Give me coffee or I'll sit on you."

"San, don't say that," Brittany chastised softly, literally bouncing into Rachel's trailer, twirling in a circle before flopping down on the arm of the couch. Her butt had barely settled before she hopped right back up, plopping down on the floor. Wiggling to get comfortable, she looked up at Santana who had burrowed into the corner of the couch. "Ray isn't as squishy as your little brother."

Still obviously bouncy, Brittany stood, skipping over to Rachel, taking a cup full of Santana's favorite drip coffee and placing it in the Latina's hand with a kiss to the cheek. Santana grunted her thanks.

Rachel cocked her head. Normally, Brittany was quite the energetic person in the morning, but this was a bit much. There was only one thing that would give Brittany this much energy, and they often avoided doing so for fear it might overload Brittany's already wired system. Rachel shot Santana an accusatory look, her manager looking a bit more coherent with a little caffeine in her system. "You gave her an energy drink!"

"The one with the happy yellow M on the can!" Brittany affirmed. "You know I love yellow. It's my favorite color! It reminds me of little baby ducks and sunflowers and sunshine, and sunshine reminds me of you, Ray! Because I shorten your name and that's like a ray of sunshine because you're always happy like me. Oh, and your smile is like sunshine too!" Brittany's attention snapped to Rachel's cat as she ventured out of her bed to greet the new arrivals. "Reno!" Brittany snatched up Rachel's tabby in her arms, oblivious to the cat's squawk of protest. "It's so fluffy, I'm gonna die!"

And that was precisely the reason they refrained from giving Brittany energy drinks. Rachel glared at Santana once more.

For her part, Santana scowled, finishing off her coffee in a few quick gulps and tossing the empty cup in the garbage. "Dammit, Berry, you know when she turns those big blues on me and bats those damn eyelashes…"

Rachel smirked. "You're such a sucker, San."

Santana cocked an eyebrow, crossing one leg over the other. "Sure am," she affirmed. Her expression turned devious. "Britt likes it, after all."

Rachel squeaked, grabbing a nearby cushion and hurling it at the Latina. "Santana Ines Magdalena Garcia Lopez, if your abuela would have heard you speak like that she would wash your mouth out with soap!"

Brittany giggled. "Wow, San, it's been awhile since you've got her tweaked enough to bust out all four names." She let go of Reno who snuggled herself in the blonde's lap. Brittany turned to Rachel, breaking the star's staring contest with her manager. "She's not lying though. You know how we've been working on her telling the truth and stuff."

"Brittany!" Rachel shrieked, gesturing emphatically to Quinn. "We have company, and it's not particularly courteous to reveal such intimate details when she has not reached that level of comfort with us!"

For the first time, Santana noticed Rachel's costar watching the proceedings with a slightly bewildered look on her face. "What are you doing here?"

Quinn met Santana's suspicious stare evenly. "I came by to bring Rachel some coffee. We ended up talking a bit."

"Quinn, my manager Santana Lopez and my personal assistant Brittany Pierce. They've been my best friends since middle school."

"Question!" Santana cut in as she lofted a hand, eyeing Quinn. "Is this for real? Cuz, let me tell you now, you playing some game with my midge, I'ma have to go Lima Heights Adjacent on your ass. You don't want me to mess up your pretty face."

Rachel looked appropriately scandalized. "Santana!"

Quinn met the Latina's stare evenly. "I can assure you there isn't some ulterior motive."

Santana cocked an eyebrow. There weren't many people who could hold her stare with equal force. Perhaps the tales of this Ice Queen weren't an exaggeration. Still, she refused to back down.

"Alright."

"I should go." Quinn stood, heading towards the trailer door. "Thanks, Rachel."

"I'm sorry about that," Rachel stood, moving with her to the door, face red with embarrassment. "Santana's just really protective."

Quinn shrugged noncommittally. "No big. I get it. I do have go anyway. I've got a scene with Gordon in a bit," she said, mentioning the actor who played Sloane's father, Bill Gerard. "I'll see you later, Rachel."

As soon as the trailer door swung shut and Rachel was certain Quinn was safely out of earshot, she whirled on Santana. "Way to go, Santana! Now she's never going to warm up to me."

Santana scoffed. "Why are you so concerned with having Quinn Lucas like you?"

Rachel shrugged helplessly, plopping down on the couch. "You know me, Santana."

The Latina sighed heavily. She scooted towards the smaller girl and draping an arm around her shoulders. "I do, Little Star. You've always been the one to take in the strays and give them a happy home."

Rachel nudged her best friend. "Normally turns out pretty well, doesn't it?"

Santana chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Rachel's temple, feeling extra warmth as Brittany bounced up to join them, wrapping her long arms around both girls. "Yeah, Tiny, it does."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel hated feeling unconfident. She was a star, and if there was one thing all stars had, it was an overwhelming feeling of confidence in their talent. But when faced with Quinn Lucas, in all of her stunning, effortless glory, Rachel felt supremely unconfident. Still, she was determined to make this relationship work. Therefore, she had to overcome her own insecurities. Determinedly, she approached Quinn as the other woman exited the wardrobe trailer.

Game face, Berry.

"Quinn?" The look her costar shot her was neutral. That was good. That meant there was no backward step. Rachel drew in a deep breath.

"I apologize for Santana. She can be a bit…" Rachel flailed slightly trying to find an appropriate description for her friend. "Well…"

For her part, Quinn fought to keep her eyes in a respectable place. It was rather difficult when the brown scoopneck, long sleeved shirt was hugging Rachel's curves in all the right places, and the gathered bodice accenting the slight cleavage wasn't helping either.

"It's okay, Rachel. I understand." Quinn offered out a small smile. "My best friend did that to me once. It might have been more effective if he wasn't going through puberty at the time. His voice broke in the middle of his threat."

Rachel giggled and nodded, looking wholly relieved. Normally, Quinn found such a gesture completely insipid, but Rachel's soft giggle reminded her of wind chimes.

"Thanks, Quinn."

Again, Quinn offered her a small smile – it still wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. "I'll see you on set."

Grinning brightly at a notch in her win-column, Rachel turned away, skipping off, and Quinn had to take another steadying breath. Good Lord, the view from the back was even better. Rachel's rather pert ass was in a set of skinny jeans, cute knee-high boots ending the ensemble. Everything about her costume was accentuating the best parts of Rachel. Quinn lofted her eyes to the heavens, muttering under her breath as she followed at a more sedate pace. The Big Man was a cheeky, calculating bastard…

Anson Blake had just finished with his scene and approached Quinn as she and Rachel entered the Greensborough set. "You two ready?"

Quinn's eyes narrowed. Anson was a bit too much like his character for her liking. Rachel was hit with a full-on Ice Queen persona as Quinn shot Anson a look. Hesitantly, the man retracted his arm.

"Don't worry about us, Anson," she assured the tall man with absolutely no inflection in her voice. "I have no doubt we will be making some magic today."

Anson shivered as she strode away, following the diminutive form of Rachel Berry. He checked himself for frostbite. Yeesh, talk about a chilly reception.


Sloane figured she must look like the creepiest of all creepers, she decided as she paced in front of Mia St. Claire's bakery. The lights were on, but no one seemed to be inside. Ever since her first meeting with the cute little baker, Sloane couldn't shake Mia St. Claire from her mind. There was something about her. Something mysterious and compelling. And good heavens was she adorable.

A hand on her shoulder startled her momentarily. Acting purely on instinct, Sloane whirled, lashing out with a fist. As she remembered where she was, inwardly Sloane cringed, thinking her stupid, rash paranoid act was gonna end up with her being sued or arrested or both. That thought magnified tenfold as she recognized the pretty face of the bakery's proprietor.

Thumbs up, Gerard. You really put your foot in this one.

She was astonished, however, when Mia merely leaned back, allowing Sloan's fist to whistle through empty air.

"Hmmm, probably wasn't the smartest idea to sneak up on a Marine fresh from overseas…" Mia nodded definitively. "Duly noted."

Frozen in place, mouth agape, Sloane regained her bearings enough to stammer out, "I'm so…"

Mia waved the apology away. "No harm, no foul. I shouldn't have snuck up on you anyway."

"Sorry." Sloane shoved her fists in her pockets so that they wouldn't be tempted to do something stupid again. "Still trying to shake the paranoia."

"I'm not going to argue with that," Mia soothed. "It was that slight paranoia that brought you back in one piece."

Sloane smiled tightly. "So, why are you out here and not in there? Normally you open at five."

"Well," Mia drawled. "Normally businesses operate on reduced hours on Sundays. I just stay closed." She gestured to the sign in the shop's window. "I thought the big 'Closed' sign would be of some assistance."

Sheepish at her moment of stupidity, Sloane blushed, hearing Mia chuckle slightly. Head snapping up, Sloane eyed the other woman. "You're a bit of a smartass, aren't you?"

Her response was a cheeky grin. "Perhaps." She eyed the Marine. "What are you doing out here?"

Sloane shrugged. "Just wanted to see if your stuff really did taste as good as it looked."

"Well, you can't find that out just standing out here." Mia reached out, grabbing Sloane's hand. "Come on."

Slightly befuddled, Sloane allowed herself to be tugged along. "I thought you were closed."

"To the general public," Mia corrected. She looked back to the Marine with a wink. "For you, Lieutenant, I think I'll make an exception."


During a break in filming, Santana sidled up to Quinn at the craft services table under the guise of grabbing another cup of coffee.

"We need to talk."

Quinn snorted, not looking at Rachel's manager. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Good, because I was planning on doing all of the talking." Santana leveled Quinn with a look, a fierce protectiveness shining through. "Look, I'm not intimidated by your Ice Queen bullshit. I've heard about you. You don't do this 'get to know each other' shit."

Quinn didn't answer for a long time. Santana looked at the woman beside her. She saw the rigid posture of the other woman, saw the carefully constructed mask, and saw the hazel eyes devoid of emotion. It all made sense, because Santana saw herself before freakin' Rachel Berry sunk her claws of sunshine in and never let go.

"And what makes you so sure you know anything about me?"

"Because you're a lot like I was," Santana answered honestly. "And Rachel's really good at coaxing even the most closed off people out of their shells." For the first time, Santana saw Quinn Lucas.

"Look, I know what you're feeling. You start small, nothing significant, then the next thing you know, you're spilling your guts and she's cradling you as you bawl like a baby. I get it."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

Santana shrugged. "I know that she has such a big, open heart that when you talk to her, she makes you feel like you're the most important person in the world. Like someone actually cares and listens. And the best part? She actually does care and she actually does listen."

But when Santana locked eyes with Quinn again, she was as serious as a heart attack. "So, real talk. Right now. I don't care if I'm overstepping my boundaries or whatever. Rachel is like a sister to me. If this is some sort of game to you or whatever, stop it. Because if I even sense something is wrong with my midge and I find out you're the cause of it? I will destroy you, and I will come out smelling like a rose doing it."

Like earlier that morning, Quinn held Santana's stare evenly. "I can respect that. I'm not out for anything. Rachel's just…" Quinn shrugged. "I can't help it. But something about her…it's like compelling me to get to know her."

Quinn felt as though Santana was picking her apart. Finally the Latina nodded. "Alright. I can get that."

She turned around. She had made it only a few steps before she came back, almost as an afterthought. "Oh, and I'm sorry about being so snappy this morning. For some reason, Brit was super concerned about being on time to meet Rachel, so I didn't gets me some baby blondie lovin'."

All Quinn could do was shrug. "It's alright."

As Santana returned to Rachel's side, Quinn felt as though she learned something really important about Rachel Berry.


Mia ushered Sloane into the back where the kitchen was, sitting her down by the center island. Rooting through her cabinets for the appropriate ingredients, Mia tossed them on the island. Sloane watched with fascination as Mia dumped stuff into the large mixing bowl, her movements so practiced and sure she didn't even need to use a measuring cup. Some things were recognizable like butter and eggs. Others, she had no idea what they were.

Mia switched on the dock in the corner, filling the room with music, and she bounced around, humming absently to the beat. Sloane could only smile at the other woman's quirky dance moves, shaking her head as Mia implored her to sing along.

Finally, Mia finished with her concoction, placing a wine red ball of substance before the Marine and a cup of coffee. Sloane eyed it suspiciously.

"What is it?"

Mia shook her head playfully. "Just taste it. I know for a fact you're not allergic to any of this stuff because your mom asked me to bake your 'Welcome Home' cake, and all that stuff is basically in what's in front of you."

Sloane shrugged. Apparently it was like cake, so it couldn't be that bad. Tentatively, she lifted the concoction up to her mouth and bit down slightly. What resulted was what Sloane could only describe as an explosion of immense flavor. Barely swallowing her first bite, she opened her mouth to take a more generous sampling.

"God," Sloane moaned around her full mouth. "I hate to say this, but JJ was right. It's like I'm farting out rainbows right now, it's so good."

Mia wrinkled her nose in consternation. "Just because you're the one saying it doesn't make it any less crass."

"Do you have any idea how much it pains me to admit JJ McCoy was right about something?"

Mia laughed, merely continuing to drizzle the red velvet cake balls with white chocolate.

"Seriously, do you learn this kind of thing or are you just this amazing at baking naturally?"

"It's something I picked up here and there," Mia hedged.

"So you aren't this awesome naturally?"

Mia laughed, shaking her head. "Goodness, no. Owning a bakery wasn't even in the same spectrum as my career aspirations. This was Rosie's dream. The dream she never saw come true."

Sloane took another sip of her coffee. "Is she who the bakery is named after?"

"Yup. I owed it to her to see this through," Mia murmured. Sloane frowned as an indescribable emotion flashed in Mia's eyes. There was sadness in the depths, an overwhelming veil of guilt and regret. It was easy to recognize. Sloane had seen it many times in the eyes of her men. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished again, the sparkle of perpetual mirth residing in Mia's brown eyes once again.

"What happened?"

Mia shook herself, adopting a sunny smile. "That's a story for another time."


As the set of Duty and Honor wrapped for the day, Rachel found herself alone as she jogged down the steps of her trailer. Brittany and Santana had left the set early, taking Reno to drop her back off at the hotel. Don had caught wind of an opportunity for Rachel and wanted them to check it out. She slung a coat over her shoulders, searching in her purse for her phone to call her car service.

"Hey."

Rachel glanced up as the familiar voice called out to her. Quinn straightened from her lean against her Ferrari. "Great job today."

Rachel smiled, inclining her head. "Thanks. You too," she offered in return.

Quinn surveyed her costar. As usual, her expression gave nothing away, just a cool façade. She approached Rachel, stopping right in front of the smaller woman and cleared her throat.

"Look, you and I are supposed eventually play lovers." She was aware this had the potential to become supremely awkward. "I really believe in this story and I want to make this movie beyond amazing. To do that, I really think you and I need to be comfortable with one another. I'm not saying we try and force a relationship between us, but I think it would be beneficial if we get to know one another. Our chemistry is great right now, but I think we have an opportunity to make it even better. So…" Quinn drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. That was one awkward, rambling, borderline nonsensical mess. She had never taken this step before. This wasn't even a step. It was a friggin' leap. "You wanna grab some dinner or something?"

Rachel had been patiently waiting for Quinn to finish her monologue. The look on her face showed a bit of trepidation, but when the words finally tumbled out of Quinn's mouth and she registered them, Rachel relaxed, and her face broke out into that bright, beaming smile that was so infectious earlier. Sure enough, Quinn couldn't help but respond similarly. Rachel really did have a great smile.

The little diva straightened, nodding happily. "I'd like that."

This time, Quinn's smile was more relieved than anything. "Alright." She hitched a thumb to her car. "I'll drive."

Rachel cocked her head at the sleek convertible. "I've never ridden in a Ferrari before…"

Quinn smirked. "As I've demonstrated, Miss Berry, there is certainly a first time for everything."

And there you go! I'm not sure I'm in love with the pacing in this one, but I'm trying to build a good foundation between Quinn and Rachel. Therefore, it might take a bit longer for them to really connect. They're making their steps now, but we've got a bit longer to go for Miss Quinn. That being said, that doesn't mean it will take forever for Quinn to realize who Rachel is. Up next, we have an emergence of a Glee kid, a little bonding time between Quinn and Rachel, and a revelation shifts the direction of their relationship both on screen and off. Stay tuned, and as always, I encourage you to review and let me know what you think!

*ISP