A/N: Trust me, it was not fun writing normal Quinn, and it will not last.

Just off the Key of Reason

Chapter 10: You Know, You're off the Tracks

"Chapter one of this Hawthorne novel is titled 'The Old Pyncheon Family."

Rachel had absolutely no idea what Alex Trebek was talking about. She started playing absently with Quinn's fingers and glanced around the living room, a little bored.

"What is The House of the Seven Gables." Quinn said quietly. Rachel turned her head to look at her, and then back at the game of Jeopardy on TV. Sure enough, that one weird guy who's way too enthusiastic with his buzzer got the question right. The House of the Seven Gables. Rachel patted Quinn's arm with a smile; Quinn stayed focused on the TV.

Hmm, Rachel eyed the box of cookies between them. Time for a game. Since she wouldn't be answering very many of these ridiculous trivia questions herself, and since Alex Trebek made her want to hurt somebody, she vowed to eat a cookie every time Quinn got a question right.

One cookie down.

"This endangered giraffe relative is more at home in the rainforest than on the open plain."

"What is the okapi?" Quinn said.

Another cookie.

"In February 1778 Baron Friedrich von Steuben arrived at this Pennsylvania site to train the Continental Army."

Quinn paused for a moment on this one. "What is Valley Forge?"

Yep, Rachel was having her fill tonight. Quinn didn't even seem to notice that the cookies were vanishing so rapidly. Rachel was surprised; Quinn was a fucking cookie monster.

"This "Symphonie Fantastique" composer was given 20,000 francs by Paganini, who declared him a musical genius."

"Who is Berlioz?" Quinn stared calmly at the screen.

Fuck. Rachel stuffed another cookie in her mouth.

"Electron microscopes provide images with resolution measured in these units, also known as millimicrons, that are equal to about 1/50,000 the width of a human hair."

"What are nanometers?"

Jesus Christ. Rachel was gonna vomit. Alright, girl, get your head in the game. Focus. Finish strong. Quinn and cookies couldn't defeat Rachel.

"The accuracy of the dreams we brothers do not know...one thing we are sure about the dreamer has to go."

Quinn was silent; Rachel started humming immediately because that clue sounded familiar. Wait. Wait a fucking second.

Rachel froze and then leapt off the couch.

"JOSEPH AND THE-DREAMCOAT-TECHNICOLOR AMAZING-JOSEPH AND THE-WHAT IS JOSEPH AND THE AMAZING-"

"And with that we head to a commercial break."

Fuck. The pressure got to her. Goddamned Joseph and the Amazing Technicolored Dreamcoat. Really, who can come up with that fucking name on the spot. Rachel sighed. She gave herself a point anyway; she knew what the answer was in her mind.

Rachel turned back around to face the couch and found Quinn staring at her with wide eyes.

"I got that one." Rachel mumbled defensively, collapsing back onto the couch and leaning into Quinn's side.

"Yes you did." Quinn remarked absently. She was staring right at the empty cookie container. Uh-oh. To Rachel's surprise, Quinn simply ignored the fact that there was only half off one left, and turned back to the TV to answer Final Jeopardy.

"English poet Thomas Hoccleve, a contemporary of this man, called him the "firste fyndere of our fair langage."

"Who is Chaucer?" Quinn said easily.

Rachel had to laugh; she shook her head slightly against Quinn's shoulder. Adding this game to the fact that Quinn seemed to have become a different person in the last week, well, it was all just ridiculous. Date night would be answers night. Tomorrow night. But Rachel didn't even try to convince herself that she was a patient person, because she knew she was a pretty high-strung psychopath a lot of the time, so, she decided to start small. Right now.

"Why didn't you go to college, Quinn?"

Quinn pulled away a little to look at Rachel weirdly.

Rachel clarified. "I mean, I know about the panic attacks," she started slowly, "and there are lots of people and noises, but have you thought about online classes? You're just…crazy smart, Quinn."

Quinn didn't move. She didn't say anything and she wasn't fidgeting; Rachel was leaning into a fucking statue. Finally Quinn replied. "I told you, I just didn't think college would be right for me."

Rachel sighed and ran her fingers lightly over Quinn's forearm. Okey-dokey then. Tonight was not the night to find out why Quinn turned into a robot. Rachel tilted her head up to speak in Quinn's ear.

"Well, maybe you can go on Jeopardy and win us hundreds of thousands of dollars, and we can go live in Africa with our own zebras and elephants and lions."

Quinn's body relaxed and she turned, smiling slightly, and kissed Rachel on the cheek. Rachel kept watching her when Quinn turned back to the TV. She had expected Quinn to name their zebras, elephants, and lions. Fluffy and Muffin and Puddles. To come up with some more animals to add, what color to paint their house, could Cornelius herd a group of gazelle? Instead, Quinn sat with a calm face watching a rerun of The Office.

And, for the record, Rachel argued that Cornelius could herd a flock/herd/swarm of gazelle. With Quinn as his master he would do anything.

~ooooooooooo~

The next evening, Rachel was in the middle of moderately freaking out about the date when Quinn knocked on her bedroom door with a bouquet of flowers, all purple this time, and a smile on her face. Rachel smiled back.

She had a goal. Not really a plan to execute it, which, yeah she should probably work on that, but she had a goal. And Rachel Berry had never not fulfilled a goal. Except when it came to defeating Angry Birds, of course.

Rachel put on her coat, took the flowers, and kissed Quinn sweetly on the lips before dragging her out the front door.

They went to a moderately populated restaurant that was about ten minutes away by cab; Rachel picked it for its mac 'n cheese, which, God, wasn't even vegan. And then Quinn ordered a damn hamburger. She skimmed through the menu, and ordered a hamburger with a straight face, and Rachel just stared.

Time to put her nonexistent plan into place.

Rachel thought she'd start this conversation off slow and steady, completely the opposite of ripping off a Band-Aid. Which meant it could hurt like hell, for a long time, but, whatever. She didn't have time to think this over; she wanted Quinn back now.

"So how do you think the show's coming along, Quinn?" Rachel asked casually, sipping her lemonade. She was trying to seem nonchalant, so hopefully Quinn couldn't tell she was about to spill it all over herself.

Quinn smiled at her. "It's amazing. You're the best part, Rachel. I think you make everybody else better."

Damn you Quinn and your heartwarming sentiments. Rachel focused on Quinn's eyes so that she didn't forget her objective and get sucked into a black hole of mush. Wait, wait, what was she doing? Oh, yeah. Quinn's eyes looked dull, actually. Glazed over. How long had they been like that?

Rachel furrowed her brow in concern. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked Quinn.

Quinn nodded immediately. God, don't sprain your neck, woman. Rachel accepted this for now. But Berries were nothing if not fucking persistent. She realized this night would probably end in tears, or some sort of wonderfully melodramatic public scene, but whatever. Bring it on.

Rachel took one of Quinn's hands in her own, one of the two hands that were completely ignoring the spare straws sitting right in front of Quinn. Quinn grinned at her and interlaced their fingers.

"I saw this dog today that looked like a tiger." Rachel said, lips quirked up.

Quinn's eyes widened. "No way." She said.

Rachel chuckled and nodded. "It was adorable. I've never seen a stripy dog before. Oh, and it was like, seven feet tall."

Rachel was not exaggerating actually. This thing must have been bred in some sort of underground, government, scientific facility for superpower war animals because it was…not of this world. And then a fat guy in Central Park just happened to take it for a walk.

"There's one in the rescue right now that looks like a polar bear." Quinn remarked.

Rachel smiled at her. "Aw, what's his name?"

Quinn shrugged. "I call him Fuzzy, but only because he has three legs." Glazed eyes met Rachel's warm, brown ones. Rachel continued to get Quinn talking until their food arrived, and she focused on her fajitas while Quinn picked at her burger.

Really, she picked at it. Like little bites mixed with grimaces. Well, don't force yourself, Quinn. Rachel had to say something now, if only because a cow fucking died for this.

"Seriously, Quinn, are you alright?" Well, if that wasn't a loaded question…It was better than asking 'what the hell's wrong with you?' That would just be a loaded question with ten tons of ammo to back it up.

Quinn nodded slowly, eyes fixed on her fork. "I'm fine."

Pssht. Alright. No more games. Rachel set her fork down purposefully and folded her hands in front of her.

"You're not fine."

Quinn looked up at her with those same dull eyes. She seemed ready to protest, but Rachel shook her head slightly and cut her off.

"Something's wrong, honey. I know it, I can tell. And you can tell me what it is, but you can't just keep acting like this-this…" Rachel couldn't even think of a word. This normal person? This shell of who you were? Rachel had been speaking softly and kindly, and she just waited for Quinn to respond.

"There's nothing wrong, Rachel." Quinn said quietly.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "Then what's different? Did something happen? Did you change something for me, because Quinn-"

"I'm better now." Quinn interrupted, slightly louder than before.

Rachel looked at her. Quinn's hands were in her lap, but she maintained eye contact. Rachel really couldn't see anything through the glaze.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked.

Quinn clenched her jaw and looked away, before exhaling deeply and looking down at her almost-whole burger.

"My medication is making me better." She murmured.

Rachel had no idea what to say. She chose to sit there with her mouth slightly open, gawking like a fool. She processed this after a few moments.

"You're-you're taking medication again?"

Quinn nodded shortly but didn't offer any words.

"Well, what are you taking?" Rachel asked. For all she knew, medication could be aspirin. Hell, coffee was her medication.

Quinn looked pained. Rachel felt inexplicably relieved, only slightly, because the fidgeting, uncomfortable Quinn across from her was more like real-Quinn.

"Rachel, it doesn't-"

Rachel held up her hand. "No, Quinn, tell me what you take." She said calmly. Her eyes weren't unkind, but she wasn't fucking kidding around here. Medication wasn't bad, if it was necessary.

Quinn sighed. Rachel couldn't see what the woman's hands were doing under the table; if they were doing the same thing as Rachel's, then there would be half-moon welts in both of their forearms the next morning.

"I used to take Ritalin." Quinn started. Rachel had to lean halfway across the table, so her hair dipped in the tray of butter, to be able to hear. "But now it's Adderall…Plus Ativan, which is anti-seizure…"

Well, shit. Rachel's jaw dropped. "You, wait, you have-"

"The Adderall's given me seizures before. Ativan's just a precaution." Okay, Quinn seemed completely detached now. She sounded tired.

Rachel didn't say anything for a full minute, and then her eyes landed on Quinn's burger. "Plus nausea." She stated. It wasn't even a question.

Quinn nodded slightly. "Ativan does that." She said quietly.

Rachel was flabbergasted. Rachel Berry did not get flabbergasted by anything. She believed it was a ridiculous word, but…It was perfect for what she was feeling now. Fucking flabbergasted. And, God, was she having a heart attack? It felt like God Himself was squeezing at her heart.

"Why do you take any of it?" She blurted loudly, eyes wide. "Quinn, you don't-you were fine without it!"

Quinn shook her head and smiled slightly. "Rachel, you don't even-"

"Don't tell me I don't know you." Rachel stated a little angrily. This was just ridiculous.

"Well, you-you really don't. Look, I talked to my aunt again a couple days ago, and she's right." Quinn started rapidly.

Okay, Rachel needed to hire a hit-man and look up the last name of Quinn's goddamned bitch aunt.

"If I continue how I was, I'll just-I just drive people away. I'll get fired, and I'll-I'll lose you, and I won't have any money, and I won't get to see Barnaby again-"

"Quinn, there's nothing fucking wrong with you!" Rachel half-yelled. She sunk down a little when a few people glanced in their direction, but didn't take her eyes off the wreck happening in front of her.

Quinn shook her head rapidly, but said nothing. She was breathing a little heavier now. Rachel wondered if pushing her over the edge would be a good thing.

"Tell me why you take them!" Rachel persisted. She briefly wondered where her tact had gone.

"Rachel, there's so much- I have an anxiety disorder, okay! A real one, that gives me panic attacks so I make a fool out of myself every other day. I'm hyperactive. I probably have ADHD, and, oh, I never play Scrabble with you because I'm dyslexic on top of that. I only got into Columbia because all I did when I lived with my aunt and in the foster home was read, Rachel." Quinn's eyes were glistening. Rachel couldn't look away. "It's all I could do because people don't like me! I'm-I'm weird and childish and immature. I can't handle being around people, and they just make fun of me for it! I'm a-"Quinn's voice cracked and she let out a whine, "I'm just-I don't want to lose you because you think I'm crazy. The medication makes me better. People-people just let me be. They aren't so mean."

Quinn finished and stared hard down at her plate. Blonde hair covered her face, but Rachel could see tears landing on the pitiful steakburger. God, remember when cows were the worst of her problems. Rachel could be mistaken for a fucking statue right now. She just stared, mouth open, tears filling her own eyes. Because, geez, this was so much more than she expected. And holy crap, that hand around her heart was about to make it split in half.

She had absolutely no idea what to say. Really, her mind was blank, only processing the tears falling more rapidly onto Quinn's plate, the slight shaking of Quinn's shoulders. Fuck, the only thing her mind was telling her to do was hug her. That wasn't even her mind telling her to do that. It was her damn pressurized heart.

Rachel's body moved itself out of her side of the booth and slid in next to Quinn, ignoring the eavesdropping assholes who thought they were getting a free show with dinner.

"Quinn, honey." She said gently, and God her voice was shaky. Even shakier than her hands. Quinn flinched when Rachel tried to wrap her arm around her shoulders. Rachel backed off. She didn't want to make Quinn even more uncomfortable, if that was possible.

"Let's go home, honey, okay?" Rachel said softly, rubbing the tears out of her own eyes.

The only indication that Quinn heard Rachel was the slightly deeper breath she took.

Rachel slid out of the booth and Quinn followed slowly, wrapping her arms around herself and not letting Rachel take her hand. Rachel led the way out of the restaurant and into the taxi, Quinn following closely behind, sniffling but breathing deeper. The ride home was silent, and Rachel had nearly unraveled her whole sleeve with a single string by the time they arrived.

When they walked through the door, Quinn went straight to her bedroom. She opened the door once when Barnaby scratched at it, and then again five minutes later when Cornelius flung his fluffy puppy body at the door handle.

Rachel had been standing in the living room the whole time. She had no fucking idea what to do with herself. God, she wanted to climb into Quinn's bed and hug the woman until everything was okay. But the last thing Rachel wanted to do was scare her, or push her further over that goddamned edge. She sighed and finally went to bed, pulling Fuzzy out of the closet and burying her face in Cuddles' mane.

Well, she was right. This night definitely ended in tears.

~oooooooooo~

Rachel found that it was hard to sleep when you were crying your eyes out. An hour later, and Cuddles was soaked through, which was, yeah, slightly gross. Her heart wanted to go to Quinn, and her mind was in no fucking state to make any sort of decision right now, so she shut it off, got out of bed, and made her way to Quinn's room. She opened the door slowly with Cuddles and Fuzzy dangling from one of her hands, and stepped inside carefully.

Rachel could hear uneven breathing and sniffling coming from one of the three dark masses on the bed, and she moved over and sat on the side that wasn't occupied. Quinn was on her side facing the wall, and Rachel leaned over carefully to place Fuzzy right against Quinn's chest. She watched Quinn immediately hug him to her, and then Rachel lay back against the pillow with her feet on Barnaby, who took up a good half of the bed. Rachel listened as Quinn's crying quieted and the pipes groaned overhead.

After about five minutes, Quinn rolled over to face Rachel, who lolled her head to the right to see her. Quinn scooted closer and hesitantly wrapped an arm around her torso, squishing all the stuffed animals between their bodies. Rachel angled herself to the right and wrapped her arms around Quinn so the woman would relax. She brushed some hair out of Quinn's eyes and smiled when the blonde sighed.

"I don't want you to let anyone pull you out of the clouds, Quinn." Rachel said softly into jellybean-scented blonde hair.

Quinn shifted impossibly closer and removed one of her arms from Rachel to rub at her eyes, before putting it back. "You make it better." She sniffled.

Rachel smiled slightly and absently hummed "Hushabye Mountain" from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. She kissed Quinn's head as the blonde's breathing evened, and Rachel fell asleep soon after. At least her heart no longer felt like it was in a vice grip. Now it just fluttered with every warm breath against her neck.

Rachel awoke in the morning when Barnaby shifted and bulldozed over her legs to get off the bed, followed by Cornelius. She and Quinn were in the exact same positions as when they fell asleep, which was odd because Quinn usually slept like a starfish. Rachel looked down at the mop of blonde hair on her chest and Quinn's beautiful face, flushed, peaceful, and worry-free.

Rachel reached a hand up and ran it through Quinn's messy hair, glancing at the window and registering that it was raining outside. Quinn shifted and blinked her eyes open, and Rachel watched with a small smile as the blonde regained her bearings.

"Good morning." Rachel said softly. Quinn rolled a little and rested her chin on Rachel's chest, looking up into warm brown eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Rachel asked, tapping Quinn's cheeks with one of her hands. Quinn's eyes darted away and she bit her lip. Rachel watched pale fingers start to tap against the sheets.

"Hey." Rachel said, waiting for Quinn to meet her eyes again before continuing. "Just know, nothing's changed, okay. Last night-well, thank you for telling me. About everything. I'm still here, I'm still your girlfriend, and Barnaby will force you to see him every day for the rest of his life because that's just what you do to people." Rachel grinned when Quinn smiled a little, ears turning pink. "And there's absolutely no getting out of it, big bear."

Quinn smiled fully and turned her head so that her cheek rested on Rachel's chest.

"Maybe," Rachel continued more cautiously, "we could talk to somebody…professional. Or you could talk to me. Just so you're more…comfortable, day to day."

Quinn was silent for a moment, but nodded slightly against Rachel's chest. Rachel decided to leave it at that, and stayed silent, running her fingers through Quinn's hair.

"Go back to sleep, Rach." Quinn mumbled. "It's still dark out; you're crazy to be awake."

Rachel chuckled. Of course. Of course she was fucking crazy, man.

When Rachel woke up again she was alone, and she panicked for a minute before looking at Quinn's clock and realizing, dear God it was almost noon. She was seconds away from leaping frantically out of bed to start her day, but then she realized, what's the rush? Rachel relaxed again and glanced around Quinn's hoarder-mess of a room.

She looked at Quinn's pillow, which actually had Pongo from 101 Dalmatians on it, and smiled. She moved her head to that pillow and breathed in the gummy bear smell, just as the door opened.

Oh, shit, what? No, no she wasn't being creepy. Not at all.

Quinn stood uncertainly in the doorway. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." She said.

Rachel shook her head. She felt like she'd been caught in a scandalous act, and surreptitiously pushed Pongo back to Quinn's side of the bed.

"No, I was just getting up anyway." Rachel said. And smelling your pillow. She then noticed that Quinn was soaking wet. She had soap bubbles in her hair, her shirt was disheveled, and her pants were drenched from the knee down. Rachel's first thought was that Quinn had to rescue Barnaby from Central Park's freshwater man-eating pond sharks again. Then she realized that Quinn was tracking water everywhere.

"Quinn! What did you do?" Rachel climbed out of bed and walked towards Quinn; she didn't want to get too close until she was sure it wasn't, you know, toxic or something.

Quinn opened her mouth to respond as Barnaby and Cornelius came bounding in to the bedroom, sopping wet, and onto the bed. Rachel's eyes widened, but she reined herself in. This was not her bedroom. She could control herself. Right.

"I-I took them for their walk," Quinn started, fidgeting with her hands in front of her. "And they-they went and rolled in a mud puddle. Like, a huge one. I mean, it was really cool-I wanted-"

"Quinn!" Rachel interrupted with an exasperated smile. "I know you wanted to roll in the mud puddle. What happened next?"

They just looked so…clean. It was disconcerting.

Quinn flushed and smiled as she realized Rachel wasn't angry. Psshht, of course Rachel couldn't be angry with the little drowned blonde in front of her. She was like a stray. On a doorstep. On a rainy Christmas Eve.

"So I gave them baths, and they, um, escaped before I could- I was gonna blow dry their fur, but…"

Rachel narrowed her eyes as she caught a scent in the air. Her jaw dropped.

"Did you use my shampoo?" she exclaimed.

Quinn bit her lip and took a few steps into the room in her rush to explain. "Yeah. I-I-We don't have dog shampoo, and I like-I like how you smell…" Quinn frowned like this was coming out all wrong. Rachel tried to contain her laughter. Yeah, who's the creeper now? "And I thought it would be cool-or, like, nice if he smelled…like you." Quinn scrunched up her face.

Rachel snorted and closed the distance between them. She stood right in front of Quinn and took in the clear, bright eyes with a grin. Quinn watched her, face flushed, playing with the hem of her messed up shirt. Rachel ruffled Quinn's hair, getting rid of the bubbles, and Quinn ducked her head. All the way to Rachel's lips. Quinn smiled into the kiss and wrapped Rachel up in a sopping embrace.

Rachel moaned, half annoyed, half turned on. Sure, she'd thought a little bit about a naked Quinn, because, seriously, it was Quinn, she just never spoke those thoughts aloud because she didn't want to push. These wet clothes were not leaving a lot to the imagination.

Rachel was getting soaked, but a little water wasn't enough reason for her to pull away. Barnaby and Cornelius shooting past them and into the hall to wreak havoc in her own bedroom, however, yeah, she needed to stop this. Rachel pulled away and went to follow them, but caught sight of the living room, and Jesus Christ, what the hell had happened? There were suds everywhere, wet spots along the sides of all the furniture where the dogs had rubbed, random pools of water waiting to injure any of them.

Rachel sighed.

Ice cream melting on the counter.

But, God, she had to fucking smile. This was all Quinn's doing. Real Quinn. Her Quinn.