Wow, thank you all so much for the wonderful support! :D *Hugs!* Please, keep it coming!

Okay, so I was off in the timeline of this, so some things are kind of AU, just in the fact that they happened earlier in this story than they did in canon season 2.

The main thing I'm talking about is when Quinn "befriends" Rachel to write an original song for Regionals, and then she gives her the Faberry-tastic speech about "you have an amazing life ahead of you" and "get it right" in the auditorium, which Rachel spectacularly misunderstands before fleeing in tears. For some reason, I thought that happened in the episode before the Christmas one, but I got the Regionals one confused with Sectionals.

So, for the purpose of this story, the things that happened in Regionals actually happened in Sectionals. Like, New Directions went against the Warblers with an original song and won, but it just happened earlier in the timeline. I hope this isn't too confusing, but if it is, just make your own rationalizations for the timeline, sit back, relax, and (I hope) enjoy. :)

P.S. This is my favorite chapter so far, haha. Parts of it made me laugh out loud when writing it, and I hope you guys have the same reaction while reading!


CHAPTER FOUR

As drastic times call for drastic measures, Rachel found herself doing something she never would have even dreamed of doing if she weren't so invested in her mission.

And that was: Skip out early on Glee.

She did a truly marvelous, Tony-worthy job faking a stomachache, if she said so herself. She felt a little guilty slacking on her captainship by leaving at 4:15 rather than at the 4:30 end time, but as it was a one-time thing (and as, she noted bitterly, no one really seemed to care), she cut herself some slack.

The black Range Rover wasn't hard to spot amongst all the cheaper-looking cars in McKinley's parking lot. Zipping up her coat over her outfit to ward against the just-above-freezing winter temperature outside, Rachel hurried over to the designated automobile and knocked a fist against the front passenger's side window before opening its door and sliding inside.

The heater welcomed her with a warm wave of air, melting away the goosebumps on her body, as she closed the door behind her and dropped her backpack by her feet on the floor.

"Hello!"

"You're late. By fifteen minutes," Kurt Hummel said in lieu of a cheerful greeting.

Rachel's grin turned apologetic. "I know; I know! Sorry. I told you to get here at four because I figured, knowing you, you would actually get here ten minutes after, and I didn't want to miss all of Glee. Missing half is bad enough."

"Well, I got here on time," Kurt said, then waved a hand. "But it's okay. Now, come here, you."

Rachel leaned over, and they air-kissed each other's cheeks.

"How's everyone doing?" Kurt asked as Rachel returned to her seat. "Gearing up for Regionals?" It was a testament to his maturity that only a little bit of bitterness seeped into the question.

"No, not this week; it's Secret Santa. Sorry about you guys losing to us at Sectionals… What are the Warblers up to now that their competition season is over?" Eyeing Kurt's Dalton Academy uniform, she didn't think she would ever not think it strange that he was in a different Glee Club for the time being.

"Oh, you know; doing incredibly fabulous things like caroling at nursing homes and gearing up for our big Christmas mall tour. I bet you're so jealous not to be a part of it." His eyes twinkled with self-deprecating mirth.

Rachel smiled softly. "Aw, that sounds like fun. And at least you don't have to worry about competitions, right? You can just relax now."

"Does that sound like fun to you, really, Rachel?" Kurt pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow. "Relaxing?"

Rachel couldn't contain a horrified shudder.

"Exactly," Kurt nodded.

Rachel stuffed her hands up to the heater's air vents to warm them further as Kurt said, "So, Secret Santa, huh? Sounds like something schmaltzy enough for Mr. Schue to do this time of year. Who did you get?"

Rachel grimaced, rubbed her palms together and blew on her fingers. "Quinn."

Kurt smirked. "Ooh, I bet you just love having to play nice to her, huh?"

Rachel turned to him with an eye-roll. "Yeah, it's delightful."

"What are you going to get her?"

"I have no clue; what do you get the girl who has everything?"

"Maybe you could let her dump a Slushie on your head; she'd probably like that."

"I don't know… She's never actually physically Slushied me before; she would assign somebody else to do it. Besides, she doesn't partake in that particular brand of sugary tomfoolery anymore." Rachel shrugged, and then a second later, her eyes lit up as she remembered something.

"I might not be the greatest Secret Santa to her, but oh my gosh, Kurt, you should see the notes my Santa has left me!" She released a giddy little squeal, high-pitched enough that Kurt poked a finger in his ear closest to her.

"Ah, okay," he fought back a wince. "Do you have them with you?"

"I sure do!" Rachel rummaged through her backpack and pulled out the three sheets of paper before thrusting them at Kurt.

He read them in order of Monday's to the one she'd gotten today, which had read, perhaps the most love-letter-y of all so far:

I think you are adorable

I think you are talented.

I think the reindeer sweater you wore today is the cutest thing I've ever seen

I hate to think that you don't think of me at all.

Yours Truly,

Secret Santa

"I don't get it," Kurt frowned. "Are these supposed to be poems? They don't even rhyme. And what do they mean by eighteen-dollars-and-fifty-five cents? That's weirdly specific."

Rachel huffed dramatically. "Poems don't have to rhyme, Kurt! And the money thing is an inside joke between the Glee Club…" She blushed, just slightly, at the memory of her trying to bribe them for Finn. Not her most shining moment. "Even your cynicism cannot spoil the magic for me."

"Good; I'm glad." Kurt handed the papers to Rachel, who put them back in her backpack. "I don't want to spoil it for you." He gave a small but gentle smile. "I'm happy for you, Rachel. Someone in that crop of misfits seems to really like you for you: a full-fledged crush on your diva self. Who do you think it could be?"

"That's the thing! I have no clue! The writing style doesn't sound like any of them, let alone the fact that I think I would faint in shock if any of them actually gave me a compliment for once, especially to this caliber." Tapping a finger to her chin, she furrowed her brow. "Maybe it could be Sam? He hasn't been here even a year yet, so he hasn't had as much time to foster jealousy toward me like the rest… But he's dyslexic, and the notes have perfect spelling, so. Or it could be Artie, maybe…"

Kurt shrugged. "Beats me."

"Do you happen to have a fingerprint-detecting kit?" Rachel asked with blatant hope.

Kurt's eyebrows lifted. "No…"

"Darn it. I looked into ordering one online, but it would take a week to get here, and by then I'll already know who my Santa is."

"…Right," Kurt said. "Well, as soon as you find out, text me who it is, okay?"

"Okay." Rachel nodded, then broke into a sly grin. "So…speaking of admirers…"

Kurt shook his head but failed to hide a happy little smile. "Nuh-uh, Rachel…"

"Oh, yes," she giggled and whacked his arm. "How are things between you and Bla-ay-ne?" His name left her in a taunting singsong, and Kurt whacked her arm back.

"We are fine." He blushed as red as his Warbler's tie.

"Has he kissseeed you again?" She giggled and waggled her eyebrows, doing a little shimmy toward him.

"Okay, enough of the singing; you left Glee early, remember?"

"Don't deflect the question, Kurt."

Sighing – and smiling – Kurt rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay… He might have asked me to duet 'Santa, Baby' with him throughout the mall tour. And he might have kissed me twice since the first time. And he might have used the perfect amount of tongue last time… But, you know, I don't kiss and tell."

Rachel burst into squeals and threw her arms around Kurt, jumping around with him the best she could in the relatively confined space. "Oh my God, Kurt, I am so happy for you!"

Kurt couldn't help but to catch her contagious giggles; he hugged her back and jumped around a little, too, even if it made him feel quite stupendously like a dork.

When they calmed down, Rachel wore her trademark megawatt beam as she sank into her seat. "Just wait until I get Finn back, and we can go on double-dates."

"Oh God, Rachel, it's Christmas coming up, not Halloween; you don't have to scare me like that."

Rachel pretended to glare at him before smiling again. She checked the digital numbers glowing the time on his dashboard. 4:25. "It's almost showtime."

"Oh, right," said Kurt. "I almost forgot with all the hullabaloo. Why did you need me to meet you here? You didn't really explain it at all on the phone. You're lucky I even showed up."

"Yes, and I'm grateful for your companionship here, truly, Kurt. I couldn't fill you in over the phone because there wasn't enough time."

"Well? Fill me in now."

Rachel nodded and did just that, telling him all about Quinn having Finn for Secret Santa, and how the blonde miscreant was using this as a platform to win back Finn, which Rachel should be doing, and how Quinn was lying to her about it. She told him how she'd overheard Quinn telling Santana that she would be getting her present after Glee today, and then explained that she herself had left Glee early in order to meet up with Kurt, fill him in, and let Quinn think Rachel was already at home and none the wiser to her plans.

The whole time she talked, Kurt's eyebrows rose higher and higher up his forehead until they practically blended right in with his coiffed hairdo. "Ah," he finally said after Rachel had finished. "It's like I never left."

Then, understanding began to dawn on him, and despite the heater warming the car nice and toasty, he felt suddenly, dreadfully cold. "Wait a minute… You mentioned bringing a disguise on the phone… And… Oh no. Oh no, Rachel Berry, we are not going to follow her to the store and stake her out!" He jabbed a finger at her. "I came all this way because I was curious over what shenanigans you got yourself into this time, and because you promised you'd buy me a latte, but this is taking it too far!"

Rachel's eyes flashed with intense determination. "Nothing is too far in love and war, Kurt."

"Are you naturally this crazy, or do you have to work at it? In which case, I say: outstanding job."

But Rachel was only half-listening at this point, for the dashboard now read 4:31, and there, walking through the parking lot toward her car, bundled up in earmuffs, a scarf, gloves, and a cute navy pea coat, was none other than Quinn Fabray.

Bitterly, Rachel noted how well winter wear suited the girl's tall, slim physique, and how bright the blonde of her hair looked against the navy.

"There she is!" Rachel sank down low in her seat, flipped up the hood of her coat and shrank against it. "When she pulls out of the parking lot, I'm going to need you to follow her, close behind but not close enough to be obvious. Got it?" She barked the orders with such intensity and utter bossiness that Kurt wanted to smack her.

"No, I do not 'got it,'" he hissed back. "I gave up Warblers rehearsal for this? A half-baked recon mission to find out what Quinn is getting for her Secret Santa, who may or may not even be the boy you are so obsessed with?"

Quinn was getting into her car by this point – luckily, parked in sight, only a few away from Kurt's. Rachel peered out the window, starting to panic as Quinn started to pull out of her parking space.

"Okay, I'll buy you two lattes! And a biscotti!" Rachel said. "Just go, go, go!"

Kurt groaned. "What have I gotten myself into?"

But he followed Rachel's lead and buckled up before checking over his shoulder and pulling out after Quinn.


As Kurt followed behind Quinn, always ensuring there was at least one car between them but never more than two, Rachel provided some oh-so-helpful commentary and some not-so-helpful demands about Kurt's driving, how he should go faster; no, take that right; left, Kurt, LEEEFFFT; stop!, squirrel, squirrel, squirrel!

By the time they had stopped at their fifth red light, Kurt could have strangled Rachel. "Shut up!" he finally snapped, slamming a hand to the steering wheel – and accidentally blaring the horn.

Ahead of them, Rachel could see Quinn twisting around in her seat to check the commotion. Just in time, Rachel leapt on top of Kurt, ignoring the seatbelt cutting tight at her waist, and shoved them both down out of sight. Kurt's foot slipped from the brake pedal, but he pushed down on it again just in time, so that they only rolled an inch forward.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" he shouted, right in her ear, which, ouch. "Wait, never mind, of course you are!"

"You almost gave us away!" Rachel hissed.

"Get. Off. Of. Me," Kurt growled through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring.

Rachel obeyed after a few more seconds, just to be safe.

Kurt glowered at her as he straightened himself back up. "I swear to Liza, if my hair is messed up…" He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror, patting at his slightly-flattened coif with a scowl.

"The light just turned green!" Rachel said. "And Quinn is turning right. Hurry up!"

Muttering colorful obscenities under his breath, Kurt flicked his turn signal and followed after her.

"I'm sorry I jumped on top of you and messed up your hair," Rachel said after several seconds of heavy, uncomfortable silence.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I called you crazy; I should have worded it more tactfully, like, 'insane hobbit-diva.' Is that better?"

Rachel glared at his sarcasm. "On second thought, I'm glad I made your coif fall!"

"You take that back!"

"Then take back what you said about me!"

Snorting with derision, they thrust their chins high into the air, Kurt boring his eyes into the road ahead as Rachel crossed her arms and moped her attention out the window.

"Fine," Kurt huffed after a full minute and a half of the thick tension. "I'm sorry."

Rachel sagged with relief and shot him a tentative smile. "Me too. And your hair still looks good."

Kurt returned the smile.

"Ooh!" Rachel shot forward, eyes recaptured to Quinn's car. "She's turning into the outlet mall's parking lot! Follow her and keep her in sight, but park enough away where she doesn't notice us… Please." She tacked on the word with enough humility to stop another fight from happening.

Kurt sighed with acquiescence and executed Rachel's orders – or, just suggestions, he told himself to quell any leftover annoyance.

He parked at the curb, right between the Gold and Silver jewelry boutique and a Bath & Body Works, three cars over from Quinn. Through the relatively empty parking lot, they heard the sound of Quinn's door shutting behind her, followed by the beep-beep of her locking it.

Rachel pulled out her binoculars with the hot pink rhinestones all over them and lifted them to her eyes, adjusting the viewfinder to zoom in and then sharpen as she followed Quinn. She accidentally landed on Quinn's taut, perky butt nestled within those skinny jeans; blushing, Rachel watched for a mesmerized second before mentally scolding herself and zooming out enough to take in Quinn's whole body and not just her rear as she walked toward her destination. It wasn't Rachel's fault that Quinn swung her hips like that and wore such tight jeans.

"She's heading toward the jewelry store," Rachel narrated aloud for Kurt's benefit.

"Um, yeah, I know; she's only like five yards away. You don't even need those," he said, trying to pry aside Rachel's binoculars, but she wrenched away from him. A brief, hand-slapping catfight broke out before Kurt sighed and sank back into his seat.

"Always be prepared, Kurt," Rachel said ominously. "Always be prepared." She zoomed out a little farther as Quinn pushed open the door to the boutique and disappeared inside.

"Oh, she's good…too good," Rachel gave a low, bitter chuckle and shook her head, still staring through the binoculars to watch the door swing shut behind Quinn. "This is unbelievable! She's going to get something for Finn from a jewelry store… Wait." Her blood ran cold; the binoculars froze in her tightening grip. "Do you think she's going to propose to him?"

Kurt barked a disbelieving laugh. "No, I do not think she's going to propose to him! She's probably going to buy something for her mom and then get her Secret Santa gift afterward or something. Jeez, Rachel."

Rachel nodded, an odd amount of relief spilling through her; she released a much-needed exhale. "Okay, Kurt, I'm going to need you to go in there and find out what she's buying."

"No."

Rachel lowered the binoculars to her neck and blinked at him. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean, no," Kurt shot her with a look. "When I left McKinley behind, I also left behind all of the pointless drama that plagued that Glee Club. I have been studying like crazy all week at Dalton, I missed out on seeing Blaine at Warblers practice for this, and I am too damn tired to play recon with you and find out what Quinn Fabray is buying for some stupid Secret Santa thing. So, no."

Rachel pouted and scowled at the same time – a powl? Scowt? Kurt was impressed by the harmony it took her facial muscles to pull it off. "Then why did you even agree to come with me?"

"Because you promised me lattes. I came for that and the snide commentary. I have yet to get my latte, so all I have left is snide commentary."

"You are the worst spy sidekick ever!" Rachel smacked her thigh. "Ugh."

Kurt puckered a few air-kisses at her and pulled out a glossy magazine from his book bag. "Missed you, too, hon. And don't call me 'sidekick.'"

Luckily – well, more like 'smartly' – for Rachel, she'd come prepared. She always kept an emergency spy stash in her purse for such occasions. After wrapping her neck and the entire bottom half of her face with a big scarf and covering her eyes with dark sunglasses, she slipped on a pair of gloves and nodded at herself in the rearview mirror.

She turned to Kurt and asked, "How do I look?", voice muffled through the scarf.

Kurt flicked his gaze over to her. "Like a reminder for me to ask myself why I hang out with you."

She slipped down her sunglasses so he could see her rolling her eyes before pushing them back up, but otherwise ignored the dig. "If anyone asks, my name is Barbra Louise Milligan. I'm from New York – no, New Jersey; New York is too conspicuous. I'm a poor, elderly, traveling saleswoman who is trying to make ends meet despite an – "

"Go," Kurt groaned. "Just go."

Huffing, Rachel slammed the door behind her and marched up the sidewalk to the store entrance. Before going inside, she took a deep breath – inhaling a mouthful of musty old scarf that made her gag (when had she last washed this thing?) – and coached herself that she could do this.

Quit wasting time! March on in there, put on a good show, and catch that Fabray! Also maybe buy Daddy a new diamond brooch for Hanukkah.

Throwing back her shoulders, – but then realizing that was too Rachel-like of her, so she slumped over instead – Rachel entered the store, a cheery bell jingling above her.

The sunglasses of course made the store appear darker than it really was, so she had to squint through the deceptively dim lighting before her eyes adjusted.

She shuffled forward at an exaggeratedly elderly gait, one gnarled hand swinging at her side – too hunchback – both hands now hanging loosely – better – looking left to right, to and fro.

"Excuse me, ma'am, may I help you with anything?" asked a saleswoman, nametag reading 'Martha.'

Rachel's heart stopped, then resumed in overtime. She gulped; it was now or never. When she spoke, without asking her brain first, her voice took on a thick New York accent. "Hello, I'm Bahbra Louise Milligan from New Yawwk."

Panic gripped her: No. NO! She couldn't have ruined her cover already.

Martha smiled and started to reply, but Rachel cut her off. "No! Did I say New York?" A heavy, awkward laugh. "I meant New Jersey!" As she talked, her New York accent kept fading and then thickening, over and over again; she found herself growing sweatier and sweatier beneath her heavy coat and scarf.

"You see, Martha – d'ya mind if I cawl you Marrtha – I sometimes forget which New I'm from, because there are so many, and you can't blame an old gaaal for her memory goin' the way of the old sch-noodle sometimes, right?" A desperate, weak chuckle; she tugged at her scarf, gasping. "Boy, is it hot in here? I'm sweating. Maybe it's just me…"

Martha gaped at her. "W-would you…like some water?"

"No, thanks; I'm allergic," Rachel blurted, and then almost face-palmed herself. "I mean, yes. Water. The ol' agua, as we call it in Brooklyn… Jersey! Brooklyn, Jersey."

"I'll, uh, be over there if you need me," a frightened-looking Martha said before darting off.

Rachel sighed with a mixture of embarrassment and relief and loosened her scarf, just enough to let in a breeze of air.

When she started forward again, she spotted familiar golden-blonde tresses up ahead; her heart leaping with hope, and then again with confirmation, she half-waddled, half-hurried forward to where Quinn stood at the check-out.

Perfect! Just in time.

Rachel decided she would walk up and stand right behind Quinn in line, so she could see what she was buying. But then she realized, with coldness zipping through her veins and stilling her pulse, that she was wearing the exact same outfit that she'd worn at school today (well, plus the scarf, gloves, and sunglasses). The same outfit Quinn had seen had seen her in, plus the same hairstyle, height…everything.

Quinn wasn't an idiot; she would definitely recognize Rachel. The disguise might fool strangers, but not someone who knew her! How had she not realized this?! She blamed Kurt; this should be him, not her, sweating and panicking and trying not to embark in a full-diva meltdown.

Taking a steadying breath, Rachel tiptoed closer to Quinn, but stopped when she reached a large jewelry stand, and hid behind it, just barely peeking over the side. Quinn's back was to her, and she couldn't see what the girl was placing onto the counter to buy, but her expertly-honed, perfect-pitch ears could hear what she said…mostly. The scarf kind of muffled some things.

"…will love this," the woman behind the counter was saying. "But aren't those sort of things usually with a budget?"

"Our teacher said to only spend twenty dollars at the most, but I just couldn't resist," Quinn said, to which Rachel scowled. Overachiever, she thought. How dare she try to bribe Finn to love her!

"Well, they are one lucky person to have you!" There was the beeping of the gift being rung up.

"Thanks. I just really hope…" Rachel shifted forward to hear better, but ironically that made her scarf rub against her ears and block out the next few words completely (ugh). "…likes it."

"Trust me, with how gorgeous and expensive this is, you'd be a fool not to!"

They shared a laugh; Rachel scowled harder.

"Would you like a gift bag?"

"Yes, please, and a gift receipt, just in case."

A few seconds of silence, and then: "All right! Here you go. Have a Merry Christmas, sweetie."

"Thank you; you too."

Rachel watched as Quinn grabbed the small bag with her present inside and sashayed out of the store. She didn't need binoculars this time to see how big Quinn was smiling and how much audacity she had to be so satisfied with herself.

Growling, Rachel wagged her fist after the blonde. She watched as Quinn left the store, bell jingling. "Why I oughta…"

"Excuse me? Ma'am?"

Rachel stopped shaking her fist and spun to find Martha, who was watching her the way one might with a stray dog on the street…a stray dog that was foaming at the mouth and coming toward you.

"Er, yes?" Rachel blinked sweetly (even though the woman couldn't see it behind the dark glasses) and used her kindest little-old-lady voice.

"We have a strict store policy against lurking," Martha said. "Please, either browse, buy, or leave, but don't hide behind the jewelry and quietly antagonize other customers. It's bad for business."

Blushing, Rachel mustered up a rueful smile. Could this get any more embarrassing? "I'm sorry."

The woman squinted at her. "What happened to your accent? And your posture…you seem younger now…"

Apparently so. "It's a gland disorder," Rachel said, flipping the end of her scarf further over her shoulder. "And I don't appreciate you mocking me for it." Marching away from Martha, Rachel mentally high-fived herself. Defense is always the best offense.

Taking off her scarf, sunglasses, and gloves, and stashing them all in her purse, Rachel could finally breathe deeply again, free from the too-hot confinements. Smiling as she inhaled and exhaled the sweet, free air, she walked over to the check-out.

"Hello," she chirped with her most charming grin.

The older woman behind the counter – whose nametag read Liz – looked over at her with a grandmotherly smile. "Hello, dear. What can I help you with?"

Rachel fluffed the ends of her hair and batted her eyelashes again, cranking up the allure. "Actually, I want to inquire what the blonde girl who checked out before me bought."

Liz frowned. "I'm sorry, but we have a confidentiality policy with all of our customers."

Jeez, this store has a lot of rules, Rachel thought, but rather than be deterred, felt her determination flare stronger. "That is perfectly understandable, of course, but you see, it is of high importance that I find out what she bought."

Liz cocked an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Because, you see…" Rachel's mind floundered for an excuse before blurting out, "She's my twin."

Now Liz's other eyebrow jumped up to match the first. "You're twin."

"We're…fraternal, of course," Rachel said with a weak smile. Ugh, she could have face-palmed herself again, but she knew she had to roll with it. There was no going back now.

Dropping her smile in place of a tragic expression and using what she hoped was a heart-wrenching voice of despair, eyes widening with a plea, she said, "Yes. My…twin," she looked off to the side in agony at the word, hand pressing to her heart as she released a pained whimper.

"You see," she said, blinking big, sad eyes back to Liz's blank expression. "We were separated at birth, but growing up, I always knew a part of me was missing. At night, I would stare out my window at the moon and sing duets by myself, only able to do one part, my heart breaking that there wasn't somebody there beside me to harmonize and complete the other half. A-and…" She broke off to the side again, fluttering her face with one hand as she blinked to moisten her eyes and let her lower lip tremble. "When daddy lost his job this past year, and with mama away at the coal mine… My long-lost sister is all I have left. Please, you have to help me."

Behind her, Rachel heard a sob; she turned to find Martha weeping into a handkerchief and nodding at Rachel with tears running down her face. "It explains so much," she said, reaching out a hand to grasp Rachel's shoulder. "It explains so much." She honked her nose into the handkerchief before offering it to Rachel, who smiled with half-disgust and half-gratefulness and rapidly shook her head no-thank-you.

"Okay," Liz said slowly. "But if all you want is to be reunited with your…twin, then why are you standing here telling me all this instead of going after her? Why not tell her your story yourself, and get reunited that way? Why do you care what she bought?"

Drat! Rachel thought. Foiled again. Sighing, she dropped the act and returned to normal. "Okay, fine. I made it up."

Behind her, Martha released a scandalized gasp. "Y-you monster!" she cried before running off.

Liz fixed Rachel with a hard look, so Rachel gave a feeble smile. "Um…you wouldn't happen to have any diamond brooches, would you?"


She hadn't been able to get a brooch for Daddy.

She had, however, gotten her picture taken and mounted on the bulletin board labeled 'BANNED FROM THIS ESTABLISHMENT!'

It turned out that Gold and Silver was a family-run business, and Martha was Liz's beloved daughter. Liz had not been too pleased, to put it mildly, that Rachel's lie about being Quinn's long-lost twin had made Martha break down into hysterics in the back room of the store. It turned out Martha and her husband were going through some rough times, and had just gotten through juggling with getting a divorce, and she was emotionally fragile.

The worst part was, when Liz had taken the Polaroid picture of Rachel, she hadn't even gotten her left side. And Rachel had blinked at the last second, so her eyes were closed, and she had been about to sneeze, so her nose was all scrunched up and smile was weird. Just terrific.

Bad photography aside, Rachel didn't know which was more upsetting: failing at her mission to find out what Quinn had bought, or confirming to herself that she was not cut out for improv. There went her aspirations to join an improvisational comedy troupe whilst on the rise to Broadway.

She was in a truly sour mood by the time she'd trudged out of the store ("and don't come back!" Liz had yelled after her, to which Rachel had spun around and shouted back, "Haven't you heard the phrase 'the customer's always right'?!").

Shuffling over to Kurt's car, her arms folded over her chest and her face wearing a deep, spectacular frown, she opened up the front passenger door and slipped inside, slamming it behind her with extra-gusto.

"Back so soon?" Kurt asked without looking up from the magazine he held, the same glossy fashion one from earlier. "You seem angry."

"As a matter of fact, Kurt," Rachel spat, "I am furious! Not only did I fail at foiling Fabray-"

"Try saying that five times fast."

"-but I've also been banned for life from one of the only jewelry stores in Lima! It should have been you, and – " She stopped, her heart stalling as her nose picked up on something. "What's that smell?" She sniffed, once short and fast, and then again, long and deep, like a bloodhound.

"It's…green-apple shampoo…" Eyes squinting, she sniffed again, nostrils flaring ridiculously wide. "Paired with...lavender-honey lotion…and below it all, the scent of…" Her eyes widened, hairs stiffened at the back of her neck. "…bacon."

A little giggle came from the backseat, and with it Rachel's entire body froze. It can't be… But it must be… "No," the word tore quiet but fierce from her throat, a whisper of horror.

Rachel whipped around, sitting up on her knees toward the backseat, and found none other than…

"Fabray!"

"Hello, Rachel," Quinn said, smirking audaciously wide, stupidly bright green with stupid gold flecks eyes positively shining.

Rachel whipped wide, accusatory eyes from Kurt to Quinn and back again, her mouth hanging open. "You- but she- but I- Kuurrrttt!" She smacked the dashboard with a righteous hand to catch his attention.

"Oh," Kurt turned an utterly bored expression her way. "Did I forget to mention that Quinn was in the backseat? How silly of me." He went back to reading his magazine.

"How could you?!" Rachel seethed. "You are the worst sidekick ever!"

"Don't call me 'siiidekiick,'" Kurt sang, turning the page and then humming to himself.

"It's not Kurt's fault," Quinn said, making Rachel's glare swing to her instead. "When I walked out of the store, I saw his car and went over to say hi. You can imagine my surprise, of course, when I found your backpack in the front seat. He didn't confirm or deny anything, because I didn't have to ask."

"The backpack," Rachel whispered to herself. "Of course!" The one loose thread left untied; Rachel's downfall. Every hero had one.

"Yes," said Quinn, sounding amused enough to make Rachel's scowl return. "And a pair of glitzy pink binoculars."

"You're good, Fabray," Rachel said. "I'll give you that."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it was such a mystery, but I solved it."

"No need to brag," Rachel snapped. Then, taking on an air of casualness, "So… What's in the bag?"

"I'll tell you that when you explain why you were banned for life from the jewelry store," Quinn said with a snicker.

Kurt snickered, too. "I second that."

Rachel bristled. "Don't turn this around on me. I know you have your Secret Santa gift in there. So, what did you buy Finn, huh? A heart-shaped locket in which you'll put a picture of you two in happier times? A charm bracelet that spells out 'Quinn Hudson'? A wedding ring, perhaps, hmmm?"

Quinn pretended to think it over as she popped up a finger each time she counted it off, "Maybe; it's likely; and wow, how did you guess? Would you like to be my maid of honor, Rachel?"

Rachel glared at Quinn's faux-innocent expression. "You should be so lucky."

Quinn sighed and then shot forward, her hands grabbing the sides of Rachel's seat, her face now inches from Rachel's. Rachel's entire body froze at the closeness, her eyes drowning in intense hazel-green, feeling puffs of Quinn's sweet, warm breath brush her face as she spoke to her.

"Listen up, Nancy Jew," she said. "As fun as it is for me to watch you make a fool of yourself, this whole thing can only go so far before it really starts trying my patience. Give it a rest, okay? You are not going to win here. You will find out who I have for Secret Santa and what I got them on Friday at Glee, just like everybody else, got it?"

Rachel gulped, her heart racing and a weird feeling spreading further downward from deep in her stomach. The air between her and Quinn was charged with electricity, and she found herself subconsciously, just barely, moving even closer, blood tingling in her veins.

Quinn's tongue peeked out to run over her lips before disappearing back inside, and Rachel found her mouth dropping to it, transfixed, watching its progress, and now that feeling in her stomach was hotter and much farther south.

Heart in her throat, head spinning, Rachel pulled backward to take a shaky breath and collect herself. Her pulse was everywhere, but it surged most dominantly right between her legs, which was as confusing and frustrating as it was delicious.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," she finally said to Quinn, careful to keep her tone neutral.

Quinn grabbed her purse – and, inside of it Rachel saw, the bag from the jewelry store (so close, and yet so far away) – and opened the door closest to her, scooting out. "'Bye, Kurt; it was nice catching up with you."

"'Bye, Quinn!" Kurt waved over his shoulder but didn't bother looking up from his magazine. "Yeah, same."

"I'll see you at school, Rachel," Quinn said.

"No, I'll see you at school," Rachel said, to which Quinn huffed a "whatever" and closed the door behind her.

Watching as Quinn walked away (and having to force herself not to stare at the hypnotic swing of that chiseled ass), Rachel said, "I hope you're happy, Kurt! Now everything is ruined!"

Finally closing his magazine and putting it back into his bag, Kurt twisted the key in the ignition to kick the engine to life. "For your information, she told me she doesn't have Finn for Secret Santa. And why would she lie to me about it? I don't even go to your school anymore."

"Maybe because she knows you would tell me her answer, so of course she would lie about it!"

Kurt shrugged. "Whatever. It really doesn't matter anyway."

"Doesn't matter? D-doesn't matter?" Rachel sputtered. "What happened to you while you were away?!"

"Maybe I grew some sanity?" Kurt suggested. "I could understand why the concept would be foreign to you. Now, buckle up."

"Fine, but you're out of your mind if you think I'm still buying you a latte, let alone two."

"And no biscotti either?"

"Nope!" Rachel clicked the belt into the buckle rather violently.

"Okay. But next time you call asking for my help, remind me to say 'hell no.'"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that; you are officially no longer my sidekick."

Kurt rolled his eyes and checked over his shoulder. "Never was in the first place," he muttered, reversing from his parking spot.

Rachel stared straight ahead, folded her arms, and sulked. Nothing was going to plan with proving Quinn wrong. It was like her blossoming career as a detective was sponsored by Murphy's Law.

But she still had two days left until the Christmas party at Glee.

Two days left to turn her luck around and rise victorious.

And this time, she wouldn't let anything stop her.