Title: The Heart is a Machine

Pairing: Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

Summary: AU. Future fic. Quinn Fabray, former Blade Runner, is called back into the force when a group of robots crash land on Earth and go on a killing spree. When a seemingly unique in her own way robot weasels her way into Quinn's life Quinn begins to question what it means to be human.


Quinn had ordered take-out and slept the rest of Saturday away. She had missed Sunday church this morning and settled for lounging on the couch in the living room, ignoring how it somehow managed to still smell like Rachel's hair after she had used Quinn's own shampoo. The remote to the TV across the room rested on her gently rising and falling stomach as she caught a rerun of syndicated Law & Order: SVU episodes.

Only, her mind wouldn't turn off and allow her to completely veg out on the couch and enjoy the marathon. Quinn had a bit of an obsessive personality. It had its positives and negatives. Her obsessive personality allowed her to be a straight A student the majority of her school career. Her obsessive personality made her an exceptional blade runner. She always finished every case she started. But when her obsessive personality started to focus on Rachel, Quinn wished on all the stars in the sky that she could just turn her brain off, or find something else to focus on.

Rachel was without a doubt the weirdest being Quinn had ever come into contact with, human or replicant. She was quirky with spurts of randomness that kept Quinn on her toes. She was compassionate and naïve almost to a fault—befriending Quinn despite the fact that Quinn was supposed to retire her. She was too much of everything: nice, trusting, docile—the complete antithesis of Quinn, and she intrigued Quinn, especially since all of those qualities were attributes Rachel wasn't supposed to possess in the first place. But she was 'special', after all.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

She wondered if all replicants were made like Rachel. Rachel had mentioned how replicants before her were constructed of different metal. Quinn wondered if they still felt as soft as Rachel did, looked like she did…under their clothes.

Taking a deep breath, Quinn attempted to look at the situation as objectively as possible. She had seen a woman's naked body before, touched it intimately, had enough knowledge of the female body from both her own and her high school girlfriend to know that anatomically speaking, Rachel came pretty damn close to the real thing, passable. Her body was lean, toned, full where it was supposed to be and trim just the same. It was mind-boggling, but something Quinn was slowly adjusting to. After seeing Rachel literally stripped bare, Quinn had finally come to terms with the fact that Rachel had nothing to hide. That she really just wanted to be friends, more than, if the way Rachel had reacted yesterday was any indication.

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. The fact that Rachel wasn't even aware of what her body's reaction meant put all the pressure on Quinn to handle the situation as delicately as possible…which basically meant kicking Rachel out of her home as quickly as possible before—Quinn shook her head, wondering what the hell she was thinking.

Rachel was a replicant, would terminate in two years, and was not human. Except, neither was Quinn anymore, technically.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was that this was entirely too weird and uncomfortable to actually happen.

Law & Order slid right into commercial without Quinn even knowing what the case was about and she sighed.

It was no surprise to her when she heard a knock on the door, Rachel's shrill voice muffled as she said, "Quinn? Quinn, are you in there? It's imperative that I speak with you."

Quinn stretched along the length of the couch with a tired yawn, scratching her exposed hipbone where her shirt had ridden up. What was imperative was space between the two of them to cool off Rachel's libido and calm Quinn's thoughts, but that didn't seem to be in the cards, especially with how intertwined they both were in this case.

She opened the door and quickly stepped aside as Rachel barreled through with a concentrated frown on her face. Quinn closed the door and turned around to face Rachel, eyebrows high on her forehead in confused amusement. "Good afternoon to you, too."

"Hi, Quinn," Rachel grumbled, though her less than inviting disposition remained the same. She unbuttoned her coat to reveal a red sweater with a reindeer on it that Quinn frowned at as Rachel placed her coat on the couch. She approached Quinn with hesitation. "We're friends, right?"

"I guess so," Quinn responded carefully.

"And you won't retire me, right? You promised," Rachel rushed out.

"I won't," Quinn answered after a moment.

The implication wasn't lost on Rachel who took a deep inhale to absorb the information, then pushed it to the side. "I've done some research over the internet."

Quinn quirked an eyebrow as an uneasy feeling dipped into the pit of her stomach.

"I asked daddy to buy me a Cosmo magazine," Rachel continued in the deafening silence.

Quinn exhaled audibly. "And?"

Rachel took a deep breath. "I'm eight-six percent sure I'm in love with you."

Stockholm syndrome was the first thought to enter Quinn's mind, and the dread churning in her stomach upped the ante tenfold.

"I—what?" Quinn stammered, flinching at the statement.

"And Cosmo suggested that I stop giving you all the power and take charge."

"Okay, stop," Quinn blurted out suddenly. Her eyes widened in surprise at this entire whirlwind of a situation. "Rachel, this is—no," she continued, unsure of what she was even trying to say.

Rachel's shoulders slumped at the rejection. "What's 'no'?" she whimpered.

Quinn stepped forward and braced her hands heavily on Rachel's shoulders. They were soft and Quinn found herself curling her fingers into them unconsciously. "Listen to me very carefully. You have been through…hell and back in the past several weeks, okay? You've found out you aren't human, you've gone to jail, you killed someone," Quinn said gravely, deciding to use Rachel's terminology to convey the severity of the situation.

"I know that," Rachel mumbled, eyes downcast as her brow knotted.

"And through all of that I was the one constant presence, your only friend," Quinn continued. "It's…natural to feel connected to me. But I—sweetie, you don't love me." Her voice tinged on desperation as she silently pleaded with Rachel in her mind to take back the sentiment. "We're friends," Quinn whispered. "You care about me, but you don't love me, okay?"

Rachel's gaze remained focused on her feet as Quinn's grip on her shoulders flexed then fell away. They stood there for a long moment, until Quinn ran a hand through her hair in frustration at Rachel's silence and walked past her.

"I'm watching TV," Quinn muttered as she gestured to the flat screen across the room. She walked toward the kitchen, calling awkwardly over her shoulder, "Do you want a drink or something?"

"You're wrong," Rachel murmured to herself. Her hands clenched into fists that shook at her side as she quickly spun around and followed Quinn into the kitchen. "You're so wrong about everything!" she yelled.

The surprising bass in her voice shook Quinn's hand and knocked over a cup in the cabinet. She grabbed it with a firmer grip in determination not to be rattled by Rachel just because she was stronger. She slammed the cup on the counter and turned around to face Rachel. "Keep. Your voice. Down."

"It is incredibly rude and insensitive of you to just decide for me how I feel about you," Rachel replied immediately.

"What is this, Cosmo talking?" Quinn spat. Confrontation she could do, was built for. Sitting around and discussing feelings was the dangerous territory.

"Yes," Rachel decided. "It is Cosmo talking. And it was right. I'm not just going to allow you to discount my feelings just because I'm a replicant and 'can't feel'."

Quinn scoffed. "It has nothing to do with whether or not you can feel."

"Then what is it about?"

Her arms folded across her chest on instinct, in defense. "You don't just fall in love with someone overnight. It's not that simple."

"It is!" Rachel insisted. "I've researched it. Have you?"

Quinn shot her a look of incredulity because, who the hell researches what love is? People normally just know. Humans just know, replicants like Rachel were the only ones who would need to research the definition of love.

"It's physical and psychological," Rachel explained when Quinn didn't respond. "It's the fact that I think about you all the time, even when we're not together."

Quinn shifted uncomfortably to lean back against the counter and feign nonchalance as Rachel ticked off a list on her fingers.

"The fact that I care about you as much as I do. I didn't know what that was before, but I get it now."

"We're just friends," Quinn reiterated.

Rachel inhaled deeply, licked her lips and took a step closer. "The fact that I-I like touching you, and I like when you touch me."

Quinn didn't have a response for that, and her lips pressed tightly together as her eyes tightened.

"I like when we hug," Rachel continued emphatically. "And I feel—I felt really weird yesterday when I was on top of you and you knew that I was aroused."

Her throat bobbed with a tight swallow as her gaze skirted away from the open sincerity pouring out of Rachel's eyes. "You just got a little excited because we were play fighting," she whispered. "That's all."

"It was sexual arousal because I'm attracted to you—I didn't understand that yesterday. But I went home and talked to my father—"

"You told LeRoy about that?" Quinn asked, aghast as her mouth hung open slightly in horror.

Rachel shrugged a shoulder sheepishly. "I ask my father about everything I don't understand, Quinn. This was no different."

"I created her to live the most fulfilling human life possible, detective Fabray. The act of sex is essential to human interaction and building intimate, trusting relationships, and I would be remiss to ignore that. Wouldn't you agree?"

LeRoy's words from the heated argument Quinn had shared with him several weeks back sprang to her mind unbidden in an instant. He had informed her that Rachel was built for this, sexual arousal and intimacy because he wanted her to make long lasting and meaningful connections with people, a person. Quinn reasoned in a way that was what every parent wanted, for their child to not be alone in the world. But what enraged her was that fact that LeRoy had built a replicant who thrived on affection and contact like humans though Rachel would only live for four years. It wasn't fair for Rachel to expect Quinn to fall in love with her when she was going to simply stop functioning in two years tops.

Her nails curled into her arms as tension laced her body. "Rachel," Quinn sighed. She scratched the back of her head, unsure what to even say.

"I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you," Rachel reiterated. "I took a quiz in Cosmo—it asked me questions." She walked closer until she had to crane her neck upwards a fraction to roam her eyes over Quinn's face. "It asked if I thought you were beautiful," she breathed. "Actually, it asked if I thought you were a hunk, but well—that's what they use to describe men, so I added my own word."

Quinn gurgled out a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief of this situation as she purposefully avoided Rachel's gaze.

"I answered 'yes'," Rachel told her. "I answered 'yes' to constantly thinking about you, and I answered 'yes' to the question of whether or not I like your hugs."

"Being with someone is more than just hugging," Quinn muttered darkly.

Rachel's brow furrowed as she nodded. "Yes, right. There is kissing also, which is why I said I'm eighty-six percent sure I'm in love with you. Cosmo informed me that physical compatibility is very important in a romantic relationship, so if you could just kiss me—"

"No," Quinn interrupted, posture growing rigid against the counter. "I'm not going there with you."

"Why?" Rachel asked quietly. "Is it because I'm a replicant?"

"It's because you don't love me." Quinn slid out of the lessening space between herself and Rachel and walked out of the kitchen. Her breathing grew labored under the confusion she felt as she walked down the hallway and into her bedroom. She landed on her bed and braced her head in her hands, thoughts racing too quickly through her head.

"This isn't about me. This is about you, isn't it, Quinn?"

Quinn sighed and looked over toward Rachel standing at her door. Quinn's face was unexpressive, lips drawn into a thin line.

"I am well aware of my own feelings, Quinn, and you have no right to state otherwise."

Rachel's voice had grown grave, pitching higher in anger, and Quinn straightened her shoulders to sit more upright on the bed.

"You're projecting," Rachel accused, pointing a finger at Quinn as her eyes began to glisten, voice shaking. "I'm not the one who isn't in love, you are."

A tear slid down Rachel's cheek, and Quinn stood from the bed and began walking toward her. "Can you just stop crying?" Quinn asked evenly.

"Don't you care about me?" Rachel whimpered once Quinn was within touching distance.

Uncomfortable with the question being directed toward her, Quinn flippantly shrugged her shoulders. "I said I wouldn't retire you," she explained. "I got you out of lockup in two hours flat, allow you into my home—I wouldn't do all of that if I didn't."

Rachel's chin trembled as she stared up at Quinn in confusion. "Then what's wrong? Why don't you love me? Why won't you just kiss me?"

"I don't know what you want me to say here," Quinn whispered. "It's not that simple for humans. I can't just decide one day that I love you and want to be with you forever."

Rachel sniffled, her tone sardonic as she asked, "If I was human would you love me?"

If Rachel was human at least she'd probably live for more than two more years. "I don't know," Quinn replied vaguely.

Her voice was flat and monotone, and Rachel shook her head. "It's funny, really. You and all of your blade runner colleagues treat me as I'm so abnormal and non-human—"

"I don't treat you like that anymore," Quinn shot back, incensed and offended.

"Don't you?" Rachel challenged. "You stood there in that kitchen and argued with me about my own feelings for you as if I'm incapable of feeling and knowing what I feel."

"You had to research it," Quinn bit out, eyes tightening as she glared down at Rachel, angry at Rachel for barging into her apartment, her life and getting Quinn caught up and confused about everything she had ever believed in. "I hardly call that knowing what you feel."

"I did have to research it," Rachel conceded with a swallow. "I've never—arousal was a foreign concept." Her shoulders shrugged in the tight, stitched sweater she was wearing and Quinn's eyes briefly traced the roundness of them before they snapped resolutely back to giant brown eyes. "I know what a lesbian is—a woman who is sexually and emotionally attracted to women, dates them exclusively. But what I felt when I was on top of you yesterday, I didn't know it was arousal until I talked to my father and researched it, and read Cosmo. But I know now, Quinn, and you can't just simply toss my feelings aside because you're the one who doesn't know how to feel."

Her statement shocked Quinn into taking a brief step back, blinking rapidly in surprise at Rachel's audacity to speak so candidly and recklessly.

"And now I'm angry with you," Rachel muttered, brow furrowed as her gaze dropped from Quinn's. "And I do not wish to be around you right now. Have a good day, detective Fabray."

When Quinn looked up, Rachel was gone. And the faint clicking of her apartment door shutting could barely be heard over Law & Order.


"Quinn. Quinn? Yo, Quinn!" Puck sucked his teeth. "You see? This is the shit I'm talking about," he muttered.

Sam nodded. "Normally she isn't this spacey."

"Unless she's obsessing over something, right?"

Quinn blinked, lazily dragging her eyes from the window she had been staring out of to Puck, then she pointedly rolled them. "I can hear you."

Puck's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Good, then order."

They were at a bar and grill for a late dinner on a Sunday night. Quinn had originally agreed to meet up with her best friends to give her brain something else to chew on other than the fact that Rachel was royally pissed at her. But that didn't seem to be working.

Mildly embarrassed, Quinn cleared her throat and flipped through the menu. "A shrimp-steak sirloin, please, medium rare."

The waiter's smile was friendly and a touch amused as he nodded and collected their menus.

Puck extended his arms and pretended to fly once the waiter left as Sam furrowed his brow and put on his best Captain Kirk impersonation, "Worlds are conquered, galaxies destroyed...but a woman is always a woman," he muttered lowly.

Quinn's tongue dug into her cheek in annoyance as she watched the two of them laugh at each other's antics. "I'm not that bad."

"You're a total space cadet today."

"Who even says that anymore?" Sam asked, and Puck shoved him in the shoulder.

"People still say that."

"Losers, maybe," Quinn joined in with a mirthful grin.

"So, anyway, ask Sam how much the bass he caught when we went fishing today weighed."

Quinn looked from Puck to Sam whose head now hung in what Quinn guessed to be shame. Her eyebrow rose in curiosity. "How much?"

He grumbled something that Quinn didn't catch and her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Four pounds!" Puck blurted out. "Mine weighed six and half." He hooked his arm around Sam's head and drew him closer to roughly rub his knuckles into blonde hair in a noogie that Quinn, to this day, didn't see the fun in.

Sam pushed Puck away and shook his hair out. He had perfected the boy band hair styling in high school and knew exactly how to make each strand of hair fall back into place without touching it. "Chill, dude."

Puck shrugged and grabbed his glass of soda, pushing the straw aside to put his lips on the glass. His eyes darted to the left where a waitress stood with her back to them, short skirt riding up as she bent over. Puck's eyes widened as he nudged Sam. "Look at this one."

Quinn turned around to what the two boys were now ogling over, then turned back to them with a frown. "Why don't you guys ever do that with me?" she asked.

Puck blinked, surprised at the question, and peeled his eyes away from the waitress to stare at Quinn. "So, we're allowed to acknowledge that you boned a chick for five months back in high school, then?"

Quinn shot him a dirty look.

"Okay," Sam cut in. He tilted his head to the side and mumbled, "Look over there. Hot, right?"

"Oh, I would so do her," Puck muttered.

Quinn glanced at the short brunette winding through the crowded restaurant for a long moment. "She's really pretty."

Puck groaned. "You see? That's why we don't include you."

"What—am I supposed to talk about how much I want to sleep with her?" Quinn shot back, and Puck and Sam simply nodded their heads. She scooted back further in the booth she was sitting on and folded her arms across her chest. "Whatever."

"What about that one?" Puck asked Sam as a blonde breezed right past their table.

Sam's lips twisted up as he gave it some thought. "Five out of ten."

"Come on, dude, she was at least a seven."

As they argued over the ranking of the woman who had passed them without a backwards glance, Quinn sunk further into her seat, uncomfortable with what had just transpired. It was kind of unsettling how Puck and Sam could drone on about how attracted they were to women yet all Quinn could muster up was a vague comment about the beauty of the woman she could see, and not a possible attraction that could be hidden. Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe she didn't know how to feel.

Except, Quinn knew what arousal was. Had felt it before, it wasn't a foreign concept. But at the same time it wasn't something she always welcomed, either, especially if her arousal presented itself via the most human-like replicant in existence.

It shouldn't have been this way. She shouldn't have been sitting in a booth while out to dinner with her best friends with the mental image of Rachel, naked and dripping the way she was yesterday, in her mind right now, ever. But it was the side effect of having Rachel admit to being in love with her, it had to be.

"And how was your day, Quinn?" Sam asked with a sneer in Puck's direction as he rubbed his head. He must have just received another noogie while Quinn wasn't paying attention.

Quinn sighed as she felt the back of her neck grow hot. "Uneventful."

"Ready for work tomorrow?" Puck asked.

"Am I ever?"

She scooted back and Puck removed his elbows from the table as the waiter gingerly placed their food down with a smile before walking away. Quinn eyed the steaming grilled steak on her plate with shrimp littered across the top of it, and grabbed her utensils wrapped in a cloth napkin.

Absentmindedly, she wondered if Rachel had ever tried meat, or if she had simply decided from the get-go that eating animals was too 'inhumane.' Quinn had grown up on meat, was an avid lover of bacon, and couldn't imagine living a life without the flavors of bacon, steak, burgers, and chicken, and by association, eggs, yogurt, milk—the list could go on.

Rachel was weird.

Not in the sense of just being a vegetarian. But in the sense that she was a replicant who actually cared enough to declare herself a vegetarian, as if she were human. Quinn's brow furrowed in confusion as she sighed.

...but a woman is always a woman, indeed. Maybe.

"So, how's my mistress doing?"

Her grip around the knife in her right hand tightened as she cut Puck a sharp look.

A knowing, shit eating grin split across his face as he threw his hands up in mock surrender. "How's Rachel doing?"

Sam looked up from his plate, a fry dangling from his lips that he slurped up as if it were a noodle and gulped it down. "That girl who's a part of your case?"

"She's fine," Quinn cut in before Puck could answer Sam's question.

"How do you know about her?" Puck asked Sam after a moment.

"Because you always bring her up," Quinn hissed.

Puck shrugged a shoulder and turned to Sam more fully. "The pleasure model that Quinn hasn't tapped yet? Yeah, that one."

"Pleasure model," Sam mumbled to himself. "She's a replicant? Holy shit."

"Keep your voice down," Quinn hissed through gritted teeth. "Like I said a while ago, she's a part of the case Puck and I are working on."

Lips parted in muted shock, Sam looked from Quinn to Puck. Then he grinned. "Tell me you've…you know," he mumbled, nudging Puck.

"I can't!" Puck cried incredulously. "Quinn's been c-blocking hardcore."

"Or maybe she doesn't like you," Quinn replied mildly.

"And how would you know?"

Quinn scratched at her eyebrow, eyes trained on the untouched steak on her plate. She picked her utensils up to give another go at eating as she pointedly ignored the question.

Puck's head craned to the side in interest at her silence. She was often proud and combative, never one to turn down an argument. His eyes narrowed. "'Sup, Q?"

"Nothing," Quinn mumbled, taking a bit of her steak. It was juicy, chewy, and her eyes may have fluttered in pleasure at how good it was.

"You're a terrible liar," Puck accused, and Sam laughed in agreement.

It was true. Quinn wasn't that great of a liar, but throughout her life most people had failed to call her out on it. Whether it was people in high school who were afraid of her, significant others who were too infatuated with her and wanted nothing more to simply believe everything she said, or her family members during holiday gathers who were too tipsy to even care when she lied and embellished her much less than perfect life.

She sighed and sat her utensils down beside her plate. Whenever she had problems of the romantic nature she shared them with her friends and vice versa. Lately she was lacking in the romantic department, and kind of felt reluctant to share this, but a part of her flat out felt like an ass for throwing Rachel's feelings under the bus just because she was uncomfortable.

"Okay," Quinn exhaled resolutely. "Rachel doesn't like you. She said she's in love with me."

"In love?" Puck spat in disbelief.

"Keep your damn voice down," Quinn shushed.

"But-but they can't—"

"That's what I've been trying to tell myself, but let's face it: if any replicant could ever love someone it would be Rachel." Quinn ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "She's driving me crazy."

"The girl can't be that bad," Puck responded.

Quinn flicked up an eyebrow. "No? She's polite but has no etiquette for social situations. I mean, she walked around my apartment naked because I forgot to leave a towel in the bathroom for her."

Puck gawked openly at the mental image he had conjured up in his brain. "And that's a problem?"

"I'm not gonna lie, I'd love to have that problem with women," Sam admitted, and Puck high fived him, telling Quinn, "Shit, drop her off at my place next time if you can't appreciate a naked woman in your apartment."

"It isn't that," Quinn mumbled. "It's just—she's a replicant, you know?"

Puck shrugged. "Not like she's an animal. We can fuck, they can fuck, ergo, we can fuck them. Am I right?"

"Right you are, bro," Sam laughed.

"You guys are gross," Quinn groaned. "Are you at all capable of explaining a single concept without equating it to sex?"

Puck scratched at his chin as he thought the question over. "Nope. So, you've tapped that, then?"

"No," Quinn spat forcefully.

"Well, one of us has to," Puck shot back.

Sam bit his lip. "I don't know about this," he admitted after a moment. "I mean, she is a replicant."

Puck scoffed. "You were totally into it a minute ago. The only reason 'you don't know' now is because Quinn's the one who's gonna tap that."

"I'm not tapping anything."

Puck looked affronted. "Not with that attitude."

Sam nodded. "Good."

Quinn jabbed the knife in her hand in his direction. "This isn't about you or whatever reservations you have about me actually having a life."

His jaw dropped at the accusation. "I'm not trying to dictate your life here."

"All I know is I'd totally spank that if I had the chance," Puck chimed in, concluding the argument as Quinn ducked her head to hide her burning face with her hair brushing over her shoulders. She took a deep breath to expel her curious thoughts of Rachel naked once again and ate the rest of her meal in silence.


Sue dropped a stack of papers onto her desk. "I acquired the names of the replicants that attacked you last Friday."

"One was named Finn Hudson," Quinn supplied.

"The other one was Mike Chang—the entertainer." Sue sat on her thousand dollar leather chair and swiveled around to place her elbows on her desk, glancing down her nose at Quinn and Puck. "Now, I was informed that Finn Hudson was shot several times."

Quinn nodded. "Yes, by Rachel Berry." Her gaze turned confident at the look of muted shock on Sue's face. It felt odd, pleading a replicant's case when her job was to simply do away with them and move on to the next. But Rachel had saved her life and for that, Quinn wasn't going to take Rachel's and would do anything she could to change Sue's mind about retiring her.

"I see," Sue muttered. She leaned back in her seat to steeple her fingers together in front of her mouth. "Has she given you any information?"

"No."

"Then why is she still walking this Earth?"

Animosity narrowed Quinn's eyes as she sat forward in her seat. "With all due respect, I've explained why already." She reached into the pocket of her coat to produce the same set of pictures she collected from the shoe box in the hotel Friday and placed them on Sue's desk. "Besides, she's not an important matter right now. These are."

Sue reached forward to grab the pictures, expression bored as she flicked through them. "What's this—the Fabray clan?"

"They are pictures of several different families," Quinn answered with barely contained sarcasm dripping from her voice. "I found them at the hotel room the replicants are staying in." She glanced at the photos, then back at Sue. "I have a theory."

Sue scoffed, twisting her chair back and forth. "Let's hear it."

"We know that the kill switch is used to keep the replicants from eventually learning more complex thoughts, emotions," she prefaced. "I think they're already learning. They are close to termination, after all. Finn Hudson asked about his age."

"Why?" Sue interrupted, sitting up in her seat in interest. "They can already calculate their own ages; we know that."

Quinn nodded. "They can. And I don't know why he asked me. All I know is that he was conscious of his age. And I think it's safe to say the remaining two—"

"Three."

Quinn and Puck swiveled around to find Santana standing in the doorway, arms crossed as she leaned back against the open door. "The remaining three."

Quinn's gaze hardened. "The remaining three," she conceded quietly. "I think it's safe to say that they're all aware of their termination dates." Her brow furrowed instantly. Bewilderment at whether or not Rachel knew of her future termination flooded through Quinn's mind. Rachel was a very much live, in the present type of…replicant, but Quinn had reasoned it was because she was supposed to retire Rachel soon and Rachel wanted to make the most of her time active as possible. Now she wondered if Rachel knew of her termination date at all; she had never brought it up.

"Why don't you put that skin-job you're fraternizing with to good use and see what she knows about this," Sue ordered.

Quinn bit her lip in uncertainty, leaning back in her seat. She wasn't sure how much Rachel would know about the off-Earth replicants, and possibly more importantly, Rachel was still pissed off with her.

"Until then, we don't know why these idiots are back on Earth. What we do know is soon it won't matter because we have three more to retire. And we will retire them all," Sue promised. "Soon."

Quinn's entire face twitched but remained impassive as Sue picked up her ringing phone. Puck nudged her gently, and she turned to find him frowning in sympathy at her. She shrugged it off, uncomfortable, and faced Sue as she got off the phone.

"Santana." Sue's eyes cut to her by the door. "Take a lunch break. Q, Puck? Turns out Hiram finally woke up from that coma. Thought he'd be a vegetable for sure. Anyway, I want you guys to go down to the hospital and question him."

"Later, honeys," Santana sing-songed in a mocking tone as she strolled out of the office.

Quinn's jaw shifted back and forth in annoyance. "Why isn't she doing anything?"

"Because I don't trust the two of you anymore," Sue decided flippantly. "I'm keeping you busy and in my line of sight at all times. So, settle in ladies, because you're my whipping boys now. And I don't mean that it its traditional definition. I mean, if you screw this mission up because you've turned to the dark side…I'll whip you." She grinned crookedly. "Well, what do you know? Maybe that is the traditional definition."


Puck slowed to a stop at the red traffic light beaming down on them. He leaned forward in his seat and adjusted his seatbelt to change the radio station. "Can't believe I'm on the naughty list now because of you."

Quinn scoffed, chin in her hand as she gazed out of the car window. "Get over it."

They were halfway to the hospital in downtown Lima during lunch hour traffic that was only serving to mount their joint frustration at their jobs. "Didn't think Hiram was going to wake up," Puck replied honestly after a moment. "Been days."

"I'm kind of glad he did. It'd be nice to fully know that Rachel didn't strangle him, and to find out what the replicant that did said to him."

"How's our mistress doing anyway?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't know. She's upset with me."

Puck laughed as he looked for his blind spot and changed lanes. "What'd you do?"

"I kind of brushed off her feelings," Quinn admitted, biting her lip guiltily.

He flicked on his signal light for a right turn and slowed to allow another car to pass. "That doesn't sound like something you'd do at all," he teased.

"Not all of us had fantasies of sleeping with replicants."

"Key word 'had'. Are you saying you 'has' them now?"

She giggled without meaning to, remembering the email Sam had sent her months ago of a bunny holding a balloon by the string with its mouth and a cutesy caption that read, I can has hugs now?

"Shut up, Puck."

Puck glided smoothly into a parking spot and killed the engine. "Me thinks yes."

"Me thinks mind your business, and lets focus on our job."

Hiram was still in the intensive care wing on the third floor, "On the left was what the desk receptionist said," Quinn mumbled. She and Puck rounded the corner to find the room they were looking for, with a worried Rachel Berry standing beside it.

Quinn slowed down as Puck passed by her with a broad grin. "'Sup, girl? Fancy meeting you here."

Rachel's gaze coasted from Puck to Quinn walking toward them then settled firmly on Puck. She smiled. "Good afternoon, Noah."

Quinn sighed.

"Heard Quinn's being kind of an ass."

"Puck," Quinn growled.

"She was a bit hurtful yesterday," Rachel admitted.

"Can you give us a minute and go talk to the victim, please?" Quinn asked Puck.

Puck reached into the pocket of his coat and grabbed his pen and pad. "If Quinn keeps being mean you know who to call." He scribbled down his number on a piece of paper and Quinn snatched it before it even got to Rachel's hand, balled it up and shoved it in her pocket.

Puck chuckled quietly to himself and pushed the door to Hiram's room open, closing it behind him.

Silence reigned between them, and Quinn used the opportunity to take in Rachel's fidgety, nervous, uncharacteristically closed off posture. Her arms were folded across her chest, her legs loosely crossed at the ankle as she glanced down at the sterile tiled floors.

Quinn instantly remembered that LeRoy and Hiram were married. That, technically, Hiram was Rachel's…father? And that maybe this was all just weird as shit for her. "Are you okay?"

"About what, exactly?" Rachel asked quietly. "The fact that I have an 'almost father' who's in the other room and I don't really know what to say to him, or the fact that the love of my life has the nerve to stand in front of me and inquire about my well-being after she said she isn't in love with me?"

"Rachel, stop." Quinn looked around them to ensure they were alone before taking a step forward. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't say the opposite either."

"Honestly, I don't know what I feel," Quinn admitted lowly. "I didn't go into this thinking that I would have feelings for you at all aside from mild dislike."

Rachel's chin trembled as she turned away. "Well, at least you're honest."

Quinn rubbed a hand roughly down her cheek. "You're being selfish right now, and your age is showing."

"I'm twenty years old," Rachel defended.

"No, you're two years old, and right now you're acting like a child who's throwing a tantrum because she didn't get her way."

"I'm heartbroken," Rachel whined, whipping around to face Quinn. "All I want to do is hug you, and kiss you, and make love to you—"

"How do you even know what that is?" Quinn asked, brow furrowing in suspicion.

Rachel shrugged a shoulder. "I watched an educational documentary entitled Erotica 2: Naughty Brunette Needs a Spanking."

Quinn felt her face inflame with heat as her cheeks flushed red. "I—never mind. We'll discuss that later. Just—stay away from things like that. They aren't good for you. And listen, I really need to interview Hiram right now. Are you okay?"

Rachel nodded sullenly. "I'm fine." She waved a hand toward the door. "You're free to do your job, detective Fabray. It's what you're good at, after all."

"Apparently not, if I can't retire you," Quinn grumbled to herself as she opened the door and stepped inside. She closed it behind her and took in her surroundings. LeRoy was standing diligently at who Quinn assumed to be Hiram's right side, holding his hand while Puck stood over Hiram, murmuring questions.

She stepped further into the room and cleared her throat to get everyone's attention. Hiram Berry barely lifted his head, and Quinn smiled disarmingly. "Hello, Mr. Berry. I'm detective Fabray." She gestured toward Puck. "This is my partner and we're working to find the replicant who strangled you."

"It was Finn," Puck told her with a crooked smirk. "Rachel already took care of that, wouldn't you say?"

"That's what I wanted to discuss," LeRoy stated from across the room. He gingerly sat Hiram's hand down to stride around the bed over to Quinn. "I really don't appreciate how you've put my daughter in the line of fire like that, detective Fabray. She looks to you as a friend, someone who will keep her safe, and though reluctant to accept this newfound friendship, I've allowed her to foster one with you because she's taken a particular…liking…to you."

The implication of his statement was clear coupled with his sentence inflection and the fact that Rachel had told Quinn that she tells her father everything. Quinn rubbed at the back of her warming neck as her eyes cut to the wall across the room.

"Please try a little harder to ensure that my daughter doesn't die just because she wants to be your friend."

"With all due respect, sir, your daughter is a grown woman," Quinn replied evenly, vaguely feeling like a hypocrite. "I cannot control what she does or where she goes, which is why she ended up where she was Friday. I protect her to the best of my ability when she is in my presence, as a friend should."

The door creaked open behind them and everyone swiveled around to find Rachel closing it behind her. "Is everything all right in here? I detected elevated stress patterns in your voices."

"Everything is fine," LeRoy stated before anyone else could. "Detective Fabray and I were just having a friendly chat, that's all."

"Though I'm only here to talk with your husband," Quinn replied as she slipped out of that conversation and walked over to Hiram. He looked relatively healthy, if only a little fatigued, and Quinn guessed he would be going home soon. "Good afternoon, sir. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions as well. Then my partner and I will be out of your hair for good."

Hiram's eyes closed in what Quinn guessed was relief as he nodded.

"Now, you're certain Finn Hudson—tall, kind of husky, white, brunette—was the replicant that strangled you?"

Hiram nodded.

"What is your job at Schuester Corporation, sir?"

"I already answered that question," LeRoy asserted.

Quinn's gaze flicked across the bed to LeRoy. "Standard procedure."

"Eyes," Hiram rasped. He broke into a fit of coughs and Rachel quickly stood from her seat. "Shall I alert the nurse?"

LeRoy waved her down. "He just needs water, sweetheart." He grabbed the glass of water on the table beside him and guided the straw to Hiram's lips.

Rachel folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the far wall.

Hiram collapsed back onto the bed with a gasp. "All I do is eyes," he continued. "Just the eyes."

Quinn nodded gravely. "Did Finn Hudson say anything to you, sir?"

Hiram shook his head. "Not Finn, no. The other one—he—"

"Did he give a name?"

"Sebastian," Hiram whispered. "Asked about longevity, wanted to know kill switch dates."

Quinn casted a sideways glance to Puck. "Is there anything else of importance that you feel we need to know, sir?"

Hiram opened his mouth to speak then broke out into another fit of coughs, and LeRoy stood with an abrupt bark of, "I think that's enough for now, detective Fabray. We'll call you if Hiram has more to say."

Quinn glared at him from across the bed as she placed her pen and pad back into the jacket of her pocket. "Have a good day, everyone. Stay safe." She nodded in Rachel's direction on her way out the door.

"Well, your theory was right," Puck said once they were out of ear shot. "They're obsessed with their kill switch dates."

"They are," Quinn murmured. "But I don't know what that means."

"Who cares?" Puck said. "All we need to do is stay by the phone and wait for that hotel manager to call us."

Quinn stopped and held out a hand for Puck to stop as well as she turned to look at him. "It's been three days and he hasn't called."

"You think he's dead?"

"Quinn?"

She casted a glance over her shoulder at the sound of her name and saw Rachel walking toward them. Quinn turned around fully. "May I help you?"

Rachel recoiled slightly at the tone of her voice. "Can I go with you?" Before Quinn could even answer, Rachel's posture straightened, shoulders rolling back. "I mean, I would like to accompany you and Noah," she declared more assertively and walked between Quinn and Puck to lead the way to the elevator.

"Fucking Cosmo," Quinn muttered to herself, shoving Puck as he casted amused, raised eyebrow looks between her and Rachel.