Part 8

We weren't okay. Don't get me wrong, things were better; I was back home, we were talking, but things were not yet back to normal.

My recent actions aside, I really am not a total idiot. I knew that one heartfelt conversation was not going to magically erase the years of emotional baggage I was clearly carrying around with me. Know that I knew what had been bothering me, that nagging leftover sense of never being good enough, I could work on it. We could work on it.

I wasn't going to magically fix myself overnight, but neither would I let it destroy the life we had built together. So we had talked, and talked, and then talked some more; lots of talking. It was good though; I was able to better articulate some of the thoughts that had been churning around in my head during the two weeks we spent apart. Having Rachel as a sounding board, someone that knew me so well, someone that I felt safe with, had helped me immeasurably. I felt like I was making real progress.

But things weren't completely back to normal. We had hugged, cuddled, kissed, but we hadn't slept together yet. Rachel was working, a lot, so that was part of the reason. She would come home wrung out and exhausted. We would have dinner, and then maybe snuggle up on the couch and have one of our many talks. I didn't push her for more. In fact it was just the opposite. The few times she had tried to take things further I had put the brakes on. She hadn't really asked, but I knew she had to be wondering why. Her silence wasn't going to last forever.

You see in all the talks we had, there was one topic I had avoided like the plague. The Red Head.

Every time we had almost escalated our intimacy thoughts of her, and what she may have done with Rachel, would pop into my head and I would freeze up. I had tried to convince myself I was being ridiculous. Santana was right, Rachel was crazy about me, just like I was about her, and I know I would never cheat on her. Still though, the uncertainty, the not knowing, was gnawing at my brain like a rat, and I couldn't shake it loose.

I thought at first I just needed a little time. I know, Santana would be over here to kick my ass in a flash if she heard me say that. Time didn't seem to be helping. You would think I would have learned from my recent experiences that time tended to only help issues fester, but no, I am apparently a very slow learner.

I know Rachel was wondering about my odd behavior. I could see the questioning looks when I halted things, the little tendril of worry. I couldn't keep avoiding the situation. I wasn't going to let Rachel doubt me, doubt us, again. I was just so fucking scared.

I was pretty certain, like 99.99%, that Santana was right, that nothing happened. That I had seen something totally innocent and I was just being a paranoid ass. It was that other .01% though that was keeping me awake at night. What if she had done something? She had been hurt, confused, feeling abandoned. The thing that scared me the most was that if she had actually done something I wasn't sure I could forgive and get past it.

Being without her for two weeks had shown me just how bleak and empty my life without her would be. The prospect of facing a lifetime of that was almost beyond comprehension. In hindsight I really don't know how I thought I was ever going to stick to my 'brilliant' plan of moving out. Which is why I had been avoiding the subject; ignorance is bliss. I figured if I didn't know for sure, I would get over it and everything would be fine.

Except the not knowing is driving me insane, so I am going to have to face it head on, and pray I can handle the outcome.

"Quinn…..I think we need to talk." I jump; I hadn't heard Rachel enter the living room, I had been totally lost in thought. What she said finally registers and I swallow. She beat me to it.

"Sure Rach, what do you want to talk about?" I try to interject some cheerfulness into my tone. I don't want her worrying anymore then she already has been. She sits down, hands twisting together, and I realize I have failed spectacularly.

"I haven't wanted to say anything, since I figured maybe we were just readjusting to being back under the same roof, but you have seemed…..a bit distant….at times." Yup, she has totally noticed my odd, and completely out of character behavior.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." See I am learning, albeit slowly. "There's just been something I haven't been able to…..talk about yet." She looks worried and I reach over to grasp her hand, fiddling idly with her fingers. "I know when we decided we should take a little time apart we didn't really talk about the….rules…of the situation."

"Rules?" It is clear by her tone she has absolutely no idea to what I am alluding.

"The ah….rules…as far as..um…other people."

"Other people." She parrots, still adrift. Suddenly I feel her tense up and she pulls her hand back with a sharply indrawn breath. Well that's not a reassuring sign. At all. I brace myself, sure that my world is about to come crashing down.

"I see." Her voice is small, and I see her lower lip tremble before she clamps it between her teeth. I watch her warily as she drops her head down, staring intently at her lap. After a few moments she lifts her head slowly before nodding to herself, she seems to have arrived at some decision. "You're right, we didn't really establish any…ground rules. So….I forgive you."

Wait. "Forgive me? For what?" I am truly baffled by her response. She forgives me because she hooked up with some red headed slut? Who she still sees every day at rehearsal. I grind my teeth together at the thought.

She looks at me, confusion etched on her brow. "For….having an illicit rendezvous while we were apart."

"What?! Rachel I didn't sleep with anyone! I mean I got really, really drunk, one time, and I mean I suppose it could have happened…"I notice her fierce frown and rush to continue. "…but it didn't. And besides, the only reason I got that drunk in the first place was because you slept with someone else!"

Rachel gasps and pulls back, her hand spread dramatically across her chest. "I most certainly did not!"

"Rachel I saw you!"

"I don't know what you saw Quinn Fabray but it was most definitely not that." She sounded very sincere, her righteous indignation not even a little forced. She was an actress however, and if we had come this far I might as well get the full story.

"I came by the apartment a week after I left, to pick up some stuff, you were in the hallway. With some…."Slut. "…red headed woman."

Rachel furrows her brow, searching her memory. Her forehead smoothes out and she looks at me puzzled. "You mean Lauren?"

"I didn't catch her name Rachel. Tall, auburn curls, skin like porcelain, body to die for." Rachel nods her head, clearly recognizing the description and I scowl.

"That sounds like Lauren." Rachel looks at me in exasperation. "Quinn Lauren is my co-star…" Ha! I knew it. "…and my friend. Nothing happened between us. I was feeling particularly down about our situation, and Lauren noticed that I was unusually tense and distracted in rehearsals. She asked why, one thing led to another and I just spilled the whole story. She offered to come over and keep me company. That's it. She also happens to be very straight."

I usually hate it when Santana is right, but I have to say, this time it feels like the best sensation in the world.

"Did you really think I would cheat on you?"

"No..?" Rachel looks at me pointedly, her arms crossed. "Yes..?" She sighs out in exasperation and I look at her sheepishly. "I'm an idiot." I answer, as if that will explain everything. Rachel looks at me a moment longer, before reaching out and pulling me into a tight hug. She rests her chin on my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around her back.

"You are an idiot." The words are breathed out against my ear and I feel an almost immediate pull in my groin. Rachel knows how sensitive my ears are. Proving that point even further she grips my ear lobe between her teeth and tugs gently. I know exactly where this is headed, and this time I will most definitely not be stopping it. "But you're my idiot."


AN: Ok well there it is, my first, and likely last, foray into the world of first person fics.

I know some of you were a bit pissed at Quinn early on, but hopefully now that we have reached the end you can see a bit where she was coming from. While it would be nice if we had total awareness of why we do certain things, at the time we do them, that is not always the case, and it was one of the things I was hoping to convey over the progression of this fic. One of the things I struggled with with the FPPOV was not knowing if I was getting the character motivations/thoughts, which were clear to me, adequately translated onto the page. Usually I would have my beta read through - but she is not a Faberry fan so I spared her the experience, and thus had no "dude that makes no sense" sounding board.