"I want to go back." It came out without a hint of preamble.

She was sitting at the table, watching as Hiram cooked their breakfast, and drumming her hands against the table as she tried to think of a subtle way to slide into the topic. Instead, she apparently decided to crash headfirst into the topic, because since when was subtlety something Rachel practiced?

Hiram paused in his ministrations. He slowly spun around to face Rachel, leaving the porridge to boil on the stove. "You…I'm sorry?" He sat down in the chair across from hers, silently hoping it wasn't what he was thinking.

"This is what I wanted to talk to you about, last night," Rachel started, her voice gentler than usual. "Last night, I was at the tavern-"

"That's where you were?"

"Please, Dad."

"Sorry." Chided, Hiram sat up straighter and waved for Rachel to continue.

"I was at the tavern, and this strange woman came up to me. She told me she was an enchantress, that she caused what happened at the castle," Rachel swallowed, "and she wants me to go back. At first, I said no, but…she thinks I can help them."

He leaned back in his chair, lips tight as he listened to Rachel's story. When she finished, he ran a hand through his hair and pushed up his glasses, "And how do you know she wasn't just some crazy drunkard? You were at that…tavern full of useless lay-abouts, after all."

She shrugged one of her shoulders, "I just…felt it. You know how I am, sometimes."

Hiram nodded, "The family's sixth sense. You get that from me, you know." He put his chin in his hand and his elbow on the table.

There was a brief silence where they finally heard the porridge boiling over. It was far from the first time that had happened, so Hiram was unbothered to rush as he got up to take the pot off of the flame.

Rachel watched as he filled two bowls. She plowed on into the heart of the discussion, "I think I have to do this. I could save people's lives, Dad. This could be the thing I was waiting for, the chance to do something great." A small amount of excitement started to bubble up inside her and mix with her trepidation as she thought about it. "I want to go back."

Hiram quietly set down Rachel's breakfast in front of her before sitting down with his own bowl. He looked at his daughter, fully grown and ready to take on the world, and thought of the years he'd spent taking care of her, and all the years she'd spent staying home and taking care of him.

"Then go."

He watched Rachel's nervous expression slide into one of shock, and smiled. "Honey, I'm not going to control your life. You make your own decisions. While I think this is a little…insane, it's your choice to make. If you think it's important, and it's the right thing to do, then go. I'll cheer for you every step of the way."

With a large smile, Rachel hopped out of her chair and bent down to cling onto her father in a tight hug. "I have to go today," she mumbled into his shoulder.

He ran a soothing hand over her hair, "Then I guess you should sit back down and start eating your breakfast."

As they ate, they talked more about the encounter at the tavern. She told him how Emma had promised her protection, as well as his own. He looked relieved, and slightly questionable, but didn't say a word. Instead, he took in every word his daughter spoke, memorizing the sound and quietly chuckling as she excitedly rambled.

Eventually, the time came for her to depart. At the door, they hugged again, Rachel clutching a bag of clothes she thought best to pack, and both secretly reveling in the dramatics of their tear-filled goodbyes.

Rachel went out the door as Hiram wiped at his eyes, then watched out the window as his daughter disappeared down the path, and a lone crow hopped around in the field.

This time, whether it was because she knew where she was going, or because she didn't have to control a scaredy-horse, she was at the gate faster than when Philippe had to lead her. It was closed, but thankfully not locked, so she pushed it open and followed the stone path up to the familiar castle. She debated whether or not to knock once she was at the door, and wondered if somebody would answer if they even heard the knocking. Instead, like last time, she opened the door and stepped inside, preparing herself for the worst despite Emma's word.

It was quiet, and her footsteps echoed as she walked through the halls. She was about to call out until, just there, at the entrance of the West Wing, she saw them. The four servants stood at the staircase, their faces varying from Ms. Jones' glum to Brittany's bemused.

"I think we should do something," Brittany said.

Ms. Jones shook her head, "We can't do much of anything. We'll just have to wait until she decides to come down on her own time. We shouldn't be down on ourselves just because her majesty can't control her temper."

"We have to move on, and stop blaming Miss. It's not…entirely her fault," Kurt muttered.

"I still think you came on too strong," Jesse replied, side-eyeing Kurt.

"I was just showing some hospitality!"

Rachel tried to hold back her laughter as the candelabra and the clock fell into their usual bickering, only for a few giggles to escape her lips. They wafted over the fight and settled in Brittany's ears, causing her to spin around.

"Rachel!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and gaped at the woman. She gave them a little wave and her best show smile, and they all practically charged at her in response. Rachel would have been worried for her safety if they weren't so small.

"I can't believe you came back!" Jesse grinned at Rachel, then, after a pause, asked, "Why in hell did you come back?"

Kurt elbowed him hard in the side. "Not that we aren't extremely happy about it! Your presence was deeply missed, but prisoners don't normally go back to their prison after escaping."

"Oh, who cares about that," Ms. Jones butted in. "The point is you're back. Why don't we save questions for later? I'm sure you're tired from your trip, would you like us to show you to your room? It would be the same one as last time, unless you had any problems with it. I'm sure we could make other arrangements."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, "Now who's coming on too strong?"

Ms. Jones glared at him as Rachel cleared her throat and straightened up, surveying the servants and their surrounding area. "Before I'm shown to my room, I would like to talk to…her." She stared dumbly at the top of the stairs, where everyone else's eyes followed to see the beast, sitting on all fours.

Her expression was unreadable as she slowly stalked toward the small group. When she hit the landing, she stood on her hind legs.

"Leave us," she said to her workers without taking her eyes off of the woman.

They left, but not without a nod from Rachel, saying it was okay. As they walked away, Jesse whispered, "Don't screw this up," hoping Quinn's enhanced hearing would catch it. When he turned around and saw her ears flatten against her head, he knew it had.

The beast waited until she was certain they were all gone before speaking, "I was going to come down and ask what all the shouting was about, but I suppose I know, now." It was an awkward start, but it was the best she had at the moment.

Rachel crossed her arms and raised her nose, "Yes, I suppose you do."

It was clear to Quinn that they weren't going to get anywhere without getting something out of the way. Her claws scratched at the scruff of her neck as she looked around the room, avoiding Rachel's stony gaze that was making her feel surprisingly small.

"I, uhm…I'm sorry about what happened."

Rachel gave a brief nod, "Thank you. While I admit I knowingly broke your rules, the resulting fallout was far from necessary." If the beast disagreed at all, she kept it to herself as she nodded.

"Okay, now that we have that covered," she lifted up her bag of clothes, "I want to come back."

Quinn stared at the bag until everything started to click into place. "You…wish to stay here?" Quinn asked, a furry eyebrow fully arched. "By choice?"

"Yes, but under a few conditions." She only thought about her plan in passing as she made her way to the castle. If what the enchantress said was true, she wouldn't need to try very hard to get Quinn to agree to her terms. It was a thought that kept her brave enough to go back to the castle in the first place.

Quinn was skeptical, but motioned her to go on. "I will stay here, not as your prisoner, but as your guest. You will not demand I go anywhere, nor do anything. And if I do something you disagree with, we will discuss it like two civilized human beings."

The beast grumbled, trying her hardest not to snap at the woman for telling her how to run her castle. "Fine, but no going into the-" she was cut off by Rachel's challenging gaze. "I…kindly request that you do not enter the West Wing without permission. Please," she forced out.

Rachel was still for a moment, trying to make out the beast's sincerity. When Quinn noticed what was happening, she gave a smile that she hoped didn't look too intimidating. Apparently it was acceptable, for right after, Rachel delightedly clapped her hands together.

"This is so exciting! I've always wanted to live in a castle. Don't worry, I'll see myself to my room and will be down for lunch shortly."

Rachel hurried off, leaving a thoroughly confused Quinn behind. Eventually, she gave up trying to explain the situation herself, and went to find her four prized servants.

The five of them sat in silence in the parlor. The beast was hunched over in her chair, staring at the fireplace and trying to figure out what it all meant.

"You know what they say," Kurt chuckled awkwardly, trying to shake off his own confusion, "never look a gift horse in the mouth…and all that."

"I just don't get it," Ms. Jones mumbled.

As soon as Quinn found them, she told her servants of the conversation between Rachel and herself. The ensuing silence afterward spoke for itself.

"This is good, though…right?" Brittany asked the room. "I mean, we have Rachel back, which means we have another chance. You just have to learn to be nice."

"I am nice!" Quinn argued, her voice echoing throughout the parlor.

"Oh yeah, you're just a pretty little puppy," Kurt deadpanned and Quinn glowered at him.

She sank further into her chair as Jesse hopped towards her, "It might do you well to re-learn some main etiquette rules. What would Madame Sylvester think if she saw you now?"

Quinn grimaced at the thought. Madame Sylvester was a cutthroat woman who was Quinn's advisor in everything she needed to become future ruler of the kingdom. When it came to etiquette, it didn't matter to her if your arm was lying bloody on the floor; you still better damn well have proper hold of your teacup.

"If Rachel wants a civilized human being, we'll give her the closest thing we can make," Kurt declared. He started pacing, planning things in his head. "It would be nice if you stopped walking around on all fours like some wild animal. Maybe a 'please' and a 'thank you' without having them dragged out of you. A curtsy here or there..."

"To curtsy, I would have to wear a dress," the beast countered.

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

Quinn quickly shook her head, her fur flying outward with the movement. "Absolutely not. I haven't worn clothes in years. Besides, nothing I have fits, anymore. I've tried; I just look like a giant furball."

"You do anyway," Jesse smirked. "You still have your tailors…somewhere," he trailed off. "They're lying around someplace in the castle, I'm sure."

"There are a lot of people we don't see, anymore," Brittany quietly commented. "I hope they're okay…"

Kurt continued with his train of thought, "We'll get you a fitting, we'll find the tailors, and they'll make you a dress. You don't even have to wear it all the time, just for special occasions. Oh, and we can make one for Rachel, too! A nice ball gown for the both of you, maybe." He walked out of the room without waiting for the beast's response, but all she did was sigh and accept her fate.

Ms. Jones started to hop out of the room as well, "Since that's settled, I'll go let the kitchen know to prepare lunch."

"I can already tell this is going to be exciting." Jesse laughed at Quinn's pained expression.

"It'll be easy," the clock continued as both he and Brittany started to leave the parlor. "Just play dress up, learn to smile like you're not ready to pounce on a herd of deer, throw a few compliments her way, and we'll be back to our handsome selves in no time."

Before Brittany was fully out of the room, she turned and watched as the beast sulked in her chair. She gracefully swept back toward her and waited until her presence was noticed.

Quinn's eyes went from her paws to the feather duster that stood before her. She slowly blew out a breath that rumbled in her chest. "I've never really done anything like this, before," she admitted. "Courting people."

"It's simple, really. Just don't listen to Jesse. I think he's going off of something that…isn't love," her eyebrows scrunched together. "My mom always told me, when I was little, that to find love, all you have to do is be yourself, and one day, the person meant just for you will come along." Brittany nodded, feeling like she'd given the beast some secret wisdom, and glided back out of the room in search of something that needed dusting.

Quinn simply sat in her chair for a moment, drinking in Brittany's advice. She didn't have the heart to tell Brittany, but she didn't have much time left to wait for her person to come. Then again…

"It's been a while since I've been myself, hasn't it?" Quinn commented to the empty room, looking down at her body clad in nothing but fur.