Triggers/warnings: Abuse; domination and submission


To a casual observer, one not involved in their society (and indeed there were a few groups around the country who did not embrace the way they chose to run) Lima could appear just like any other that had existed long before. The city prided itself on being a private society, for the most part, and the more solid, formal routines of a lifestyle were left behind closed doors. As Rachel walked along the mall shops with Quinn, only a few things would tell a person of the different ways members of their society interacted with each other. Only a person who knew what they were looking for could see it.

A certain tilt of the head. A chin lifted in the role of Dominance; eyes cast to the floor with the deference of a submissive. A girl following two steps behind, always, carrying the purchases of the day. A young man with a glittering silver collar stopping to ask his Miss if she was tired and needed to sit for a moment. A Dominant holding up a dress to his boy with a merry, evil glint to his eyes. The quiet dance of the question-and-answer, in a language all its own.

"Hold this, pet." "Yes, Master."

"Did I tell you to speak?" "You did not, Ma'am, I'm sorry."

"Don't let me forget to buy milk." "Milk, yes Sir."

It was mundane, really. At home there might be people on their knees or all fours, games, punishment, a driving sexual dynamic… but in public it was all about remembering the milk and the pet food, and where to go for lunch.

Rachel stopped in front of a restaurant that was advertising Italian food. "This might be…" She stopped, reading the sign.

No Leash, No Lunch.

… Some places were less subtle than others.

"Moving on," she said, rolling her eyes and slightly behind her, Quinn giggled. Rachel giggled herself and moved back to Quinn so that she could push the wheelchair. They'd decided not to risk Quinn walking all day, though Rachel had decided that she could at least walk in any of the clothing stores they visited, so that Quinn could get some of her practice in, and try on some of the clothes.

As mundane as their society could be, though, there were still those who felt like they had something to prove. Perhaps they'd just entered into their new relationship, or perhaps there was an underlying sense of inadequacy that sent them over the top. Rachel shook her head as a man walked by her and Quinn, a girl crawling behind him with a gag in her mouth.

"Come, slave!" he barked, just as he passed them, and Rachel sighed.

"Newbie," she said to Quinn, and gently patted her arm, because Quinn's face was white and nervous as her eyes scanned back and forth between the Dominant and his girl.

Rachel had woken up first that morning, and it had taken her a moment to adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings of her guest bedroom, and to remember why she was there. And then she had glanced down, and seen Quinn's fingers wrapped in hers. She'd stared at their interlocked hands for the longest time, before her gaze wandered over Quinn, slowly. She realized that she'd never really taken the time to just look at Quinn. To notice her blonde hair, the way the strands shone with the sunlight filtering in through the window. The long eyelashes that fluttered against her cheeks as she slept. Her pink lips were parted in a little smile, and the fingers of her other hand, long and graceful, were still held tightly around the teddy bear in her arm. Quinn's face, her form, was so graceful it reminded Rachel of actresses in her favorite black and white movies. She wanted to trail her hands over every inch of Quinn, to memorize every dip and curve and manipulate each part of her until Quinn was a quivering, undone mass beneath her. She wanted to touch her, to taste her, to claim her…

Rachel got up to make breakfast instead.

She wasn't in the kitchen for ten minutes before the frantic call had her back in the guest bedroom.

"Miss Rachel?!"

Quinn was sat up in bed, looking around for her, and Rachel cursed herself for being so thoughtless. Immediately she sat down next to Quinn.

"Hey there," she said, her voice light and reassuring. "I should know better than to go where you can't see me, especially when you're just waking up, shouldn't I?"

"I'm sorry," Quinn said, and Rachel realized she was beginning to hate those two words. "I just panicked, it was dumb."

"No, hey." She reached out and put her hand on Quinn's knee, glad that the girl wasn't flinching as much when Rachel touched her. "I know you're used to waking up alone at the House, but here I should pay more attention to what you need, all right? No apologies, except from me. I'm sorry."

While Rachel was stood making their breakfast, Quinn had ended up on the floor of the kitchen playing with Arnie. Rachel wasn't sure she liked that arrangement, given what Quinn had told her the night before, but she couldn't help admit that Quinn seemed happy, even comfortable, at her feet. Of course, part of that could've been Arnie. He was completely, madly in love with Quinn, that much was clear. Rachel was past being jealous about it. Almost. The smile on Quinn's face helped.

Twenty minutes later, Rachel sat at the table and giggled as Quinn had devoured a plate of bacon and eggs. Gone was the timidity with food, at least for once, and it made Rachel happier than she'd been in a while, just that simple action of enjoying breakfast. "I should fix you bacon more often," she'd teased, and Quinn had just grinned at her, a mischievous look in her eyes that had made Rachel's heart skip a beat.

"Miss Rachel?"

Lost in her thoughts, Rachel had been walking absently along when Quinn's voice called her back.

"Hmm?" she stopped and turned. Quinn was looking into a shop from the doorway. A bookstore.

"May we-" Quinn shook her head. "What shops would you like to go in?"

Rachel stepped back over to Quinn, her hand coming to rest on the girl's shoulder. She looked into the store. It was your average bookstore, with comfy chairs and benches scattered throughout. People sat on them, laughing and talking, or milled about the shelves, drinking coffee and tea from the little coffee bar set up in the back.

"Do you want to go into the bookstore, Quinn?" Rachel asked.

Quinn shrugged.

"No," Rachel said, her voice firm. "Use your words, Quinn. Would you like to go into the bookstore?"

Quinn was looking at her, wide-eyed and once again biting her lower lip. "Y-yes, Miss Rachel."

"Good girl," Rachel said, her tone softer. She smiled. "Let's go see what we can find."

They wandered slowly, stopping here and there, with Rachel paying close attention to which sections seemed to catch Quinn's attention the most. They paused at the art section, Quinn's hand lingering over the spines of books on how to draw human anatomy, books on cathedral architecture, on famous artists. Next was the classics section, Dickens and Carroll and Poe. Quinn glanced casually at the magazines, but somehow they didn't hold her interest, and Rachel found herself scanning through the books on New York in the geography section, but there wasn't anything new that she desperately had to have.

"Where are we going next, Miss Rachel?"

She looked up in surprise. "But you haven't picked any books."

Quinn shrugged again, and it was on the tip of her tongue for Rachel to lecture her again, but she was stopped by Quinn's voice. "I don't need anything, Miss Rachel."

Rachel nodded to herself. "But is there anything you want?"

"I-I don't have the money, and I don't need any books."

"Come with me," Rachel said suddenly, and she walked quickly back to the art section, with Quinn following behind. She pointed at the shelves. "Do any of these books interest you?"

Quinn looked at her, confused. "Yes, Miss Rachel?"

"Which ones?"

Quinn hesitated, before her finger reached out and tentatively pointed to one of the architecture books, and another on drawing for comic books. Huh, Rachel thought, comic books. "I like those two…"

"Then ask for them."

"I don't need them."

Rachel sighed, and took hold of Quinn's chair, pulling her off to the side. "Quinn," she said gently, "You wanted to come into the bookstore, and you clearly want books. Now, I could make the argument that everyone needs books, and it would be a very effective argument, substantiated by visual aids with evidence to prove my point." Seeing Quinn stare at her with a dazed expression, Rachel hastened to explain herself.

"You may not need these particular books, but you want them. You want something, and that, Quinn… that's perfectly fine. That's okay. It's okay for you to want something, and it's especially okay for you to ask me for it."

"But you shouldn't buy me-"

"Quinn, that is something I want to do." Rachel squeezed Quinn's arm gently. "I can buy you a couple of books, and some clothes, Quinn. I want to."

Quinn hesitated, and it seemed like she was going to object. But Rachel waited, and finally Quinn nodded. She took a deep breath. "Miss Rachel, may I have those two books? I-I want them."

Rachel smiled, recognizing what an effort this was for Quinn. At that moment, she couldn't be more proud of the girl. "Yes, you may, Quinn," she said. "Good girl."

She pulled the two books off the shelf and tucked them under her arm, looking up at Quinn, who was staring at her. "Are we ready?" Rachel asked, feeling a little unsettled under Quinn's gaze.

"I…" Quinn hesitated. "Miss Rachel, those posters you have in your living room?"

"Yes?"

"They're Broadway, right?"

"Yes!" Rachel exclaimed, excited that Quinn understood. "Wicked and Funny Girl, my favorites."

Quinn nodded, seemingly lost in thought. "May we go back to the New York section? I'd like… I want to get a book on Broadway."

"You want a book on Broadway?"

"T-to know what you like," Quinn said, panic beginning to cross over her features. "So that we can talk… about it and I can know what you like, it was a stupid idea, I'm sorry…"

"Whoa, whoa," Rachel said, her hand once again coming to rest on Quinn's shoulder. She couldn't believe that Quinn wanted to research musicals, to learn about Broadway, so that she'd know about something Rachel loved so much. No one else had ever done that, except for maybe Jesse, but he was a Broadway addict much like herself.

"Quinn, I'm not angry, I think that's incredibly, terribly sweet."

"Really?" Quinn said, looking at her through long lashes.

"Really," Rachel said, patting her back. "But believe me, I have enough books at home to give you a very good education on Broadway and musicals. When we get back I'll let you pick a couple out to read. For now, let's pay for these and then find you some clothes."

There was a smile on Quinn's face as they left the bookstore, the bag with her new books swinging from the back of the chair. It didn't take long before she stopped in front of a clothing store, and turned to Rachel.

"May we go in here, Miss Rachel?" she asked, her eyes as wide and excited as a child's at Christmas.

The clothes in the store seemed casual but dressy at the same time, full of light spring and summer colors that Quinn would look perfect in. Rachel smiled.

"This is a very good choice, Quinn," she praised. "We'll go inside and see if there's anything you like."

Quinn's gaze flew to her shoes; her face flushed pink once more as the corners of her mouth quirked up a little. "Thank you, Miss Rachel."

They left Quinn's chair with one of the salesclerks, with instructions that they'd come back for it once they were finished. Rachel was excited, glad that Quinn could at last get some clothes that weren't borrowed, or issued from the House. She'd be able to feel more like herself. But as they made their way through the store, with Rachel stopping here and there to suggest a dress or shirt she thought Quinn might like, Rachel noticed that the girl with her seemed to wilt, to curl inside herself and keep her distance. Rachel thought she had a good idea why, but she decided to wait for Quinn to tell her on her own. She didn't have to wait long.

"You should try this on," Rachel said, holding up a dress. "The green matches your eyes."

"No, I don't think so," Quinn said, barely even glancing at it.

"But you didn't even look."

"It doesn't matter, I'll still be ugly."

Rachel hung the dress back on the rack, and turned to Quinn. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

The air around them seemed to still, and Quinn hung her head. She mumbled something, and Rachel stepped forward, closer to her.

"Quinn. Answer me."

When Quinn met her eyes, Rachel's heart lurched to see that her own were filled with tears.

"I'm too fat." Quinn's words began to come out in a rush. "I'm too fat; my b-butt is big. My breasts aren't that great and my thighs are huge, a-and my face is just average."

It occurred to Rachel, listening to Quinn speak, that the girl was reciting a litany of herself. A long line of things that she perceived were wrong with her, things that had been said and repeated so often that Quinn had memorized them, taken them deep inside herself and now she could offer them back as if they were a prayer.

When Quinn had finished, Rachel stepped even closer, and though her eyes became a little fearful, Quinn didn't step back. Rachel raised her hands to lock them carefully on Quinn's shoulders.

"He was wrong."

Quinn blinked. "W-what?"

"He was wrong," Rachel said again, firmly. She sighed, and cupped Quinn's cheek with her hand, thumb running lightly over the skin. Quinn flinched, ever so slightly, and Rachel pulled away. "Quinn, you are beautiful. You are beautiful, and I am so sorry that he ever made you feel like you weren't. I know you don't trust me right now, because you don't see yourself the way I do, but you will. I promise."

Rachel moved back, and tried to smile reassuringly at her, even though she was struggling not to cry herself. "And we're going to start by getting you some new clothes, all right?"

Quinn nodded, watching her. "All right, Miss Rachel."

Quinn tried on a few outfits, and by the end she was even having a little fun, buoyed by Rachel's praise and happiness at seeing her in ones she liked. At one point she twirled around, the dress spanning out around her waist and she laughed, and then grabbed Rachel in a tight hug. She'd let go almost as quickly and both girls smiled awkwardly at each other, once again blushing to the tips of their ears.

Rachel was stood at the counter, paying for Quinn's clothes, when Quinn's voice reached her ears, high pitched and frightened.

"No, I don't want to, g-go away."

"I'll be right back," Rachel said to the sales clerk, and quickly went in search of Quinn. She found her in the jewelry, nearly pressed up against one of the racks, a taller woman next to her with a smirk.

"Why not? I don't see a collar on you, pet." The woman leaned closer. "But I could put one on you…"

"I think not," Rachel said, coming up next to Quinn. "Leave her alone now, please."

The woman glanced at Rachel, and then turned back to Quinn. "You don't own her. Like I said, I don't see a collar. Mm," she breathed, "What I wouldn't give to get my hands on you."

Rachel had had enough, and stepped in front of Quinn. She froze momentarily, because Quinn had gotten as close as she possibly could to Rachel, and was now clinging to her. She recovered herself quickly and fastened her gaze back onto the woman, glaring.

"I have asked you nicely," she said, in a tone so sharp that even the salesclerk witnessing the exchange shivered. "I will not ask you again. If you proceed in this manner you will need to decide how you will get your hands on anyone after you have lost them."

The woman stared at Rachel, and then snorted. "Whatever." She turned to go. "I don't need a fucking head case anyway."

"Ugh." Rachel turned to look at Quinn, who was still holding on to her. She could feel her shaking, trembling violently as she held on. "Quinn," Rachel said, but there was no answer. "Quinn," she tried again.

"Y-yes, Miss Rachel?"

"Okay," Rachel soothed, quickly jumping into comfort mode. "It's okay." Taking Quinn's hands in hers and looking around, Rachel met the eyes of the salesclerk, who was staring at them with sympathy.

"Might I borrow-" Rachel tilted her chin at the dressing room, and the salesclerk nodded. "Thank you."

Holding on to Quinn's hands, Rachel maneuvered them both into the dressing room and closed the door. She hesitated, then sat on the bench and without thinking, pulled Quinn onto her lap.

"All right," she whispered, holding her close. "You're all right." It was awkward, the two of them scrunched together in a dressing room made for one, but it would have to do, and anyway, Quinn's face buried in her neck felt really… wonderful.

That probably wasn't what she should be focusing on right now, Rachel thought.

She rubbed Quinn's back gently, talking softly to her, until gradually the trembling began to subside. Soon Quinn looked up at her, a little fear still in her eyes.

"I'm sor-" Rachel placed her finger over Quinn's lips, and Quinn smiled slightly. "I-is she gone?"

"She's gone," Rachel confirmed, and hugged Quinn tightly. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Will you ever stop saying stuff you're not supposed to? Rachel asked herself with annoyance.

"Sweetheart…" Quinn mumbled, and then nodded. "I'm all right, I just…" She trailed off.

"You just what?" Rachel prompted, trying not to think that as awkward as it was, it was also the nicest thing she'd ever felt, to be sat with Quinn on her lap.

"I just feel stupid."

"Well, you're not," Rachel declared. "She overstepped her boundaries. You might not be collared, which yes, it means you can be approached, but you said no. Quinn, look at me." When she did so, Rachel continued, softly. "I'm proud of you, for saying no."

"Proud of me?"

"Yes." Rachel hugged her again. "You can always say no, sweetheart. Just try to remember that."

Rachel paid for Quinn's clothes and retrieved the wheelchair; once Quinn was seated back in Rachel noticed she looked tired. They'd had a big day; perhaps it was time for them to get back home.

As they made their way towards the exit, Quinn said, "Miss Rachel, wait."

Rachel stopped. "What is it, is there something wrong?"

"No, Miss Rachel, but can you… wait here?"

Rachel watched as Quinn wheeled herself over to a vendor, one who was positioned in the middle of the mall selling flowers. She was confused, her head tilted while she saw Quinn speaking to the woman, who smiled and handed Quinn a selection from the bunch on her cart. Rachel frowned.

What was she doing? Did Quinn like the vendor? Maybe she thought she was pretty. She was… reasonably attractive, Rachel decided. Tall and with dark black hair. Good bone structure, and a perfect nose. Rachel sighed inwardly. Her nose was always her undoing. Well, if Quinn liked her, that was good. She was getting better, she could like whomever she wanted to, and if she got the vendor's phone number… Rachel could just watch movies while they talked. Or something…

"Miss Rachel?"

Rachel's head whipped back over to Quinn, who was wheeling over to her with a shy smile on her face.

Yeah, she liked her. Rachel fought back the wave of disappointment. "I see you have a flower."

"No," Quinn shook her head. She plucked the flower out of her lap and held it out to Rachel. A gardenia, its white petals soft and alive.

"I-it's for you."

Rachel stared in shock. "What?"

"I don't have any money…" Quinn fidgeted, seeming uncertain. "But I talked to the vendor and she gave it to me, since I-I told her there was someone special I wanted to have a flower. Y-you've done so much for me, and this is the only way I can say thank you."

"Someone special…"

"You don't like gardenias." Quinn's face fell. "I can choose something else." She started to wheel away, but Rachel grabbed the chair, stopping her.

She leaned down and pulled Quinn into her arms. Quinn had given her a flower. Quinn thought she was someone special.

"I never thought about gardenias before," Rachel admitted, still hugging Quinn. "But now I think they're my very favorite. Thank you so much, sweetheart." She didn't care that she probably shouldn't keep calling Quinn that; she was just so happy that Quinn wasn't interested in the vendor, that she had given her a flower. "Thank you."

She pulled back up and smiled at Quinn, who was now beaming at her. "Come on, let's get out of here, you need to rest."

"Yes, Miss Rachel."

Once home, Quinn quickly fell asleep on the couch in her brand-new jeans and white top, with Arnie at her feet. Rachel covered them both with a blanket and glanced at the gardenia, now in a vase on the coffee table, and went to find some Broadway books for Quinn.