"I don't want to do this with you Santana!" Quinn yells. She has that slightly crazed look in her eye that I recognize.

My stance shifts and Quinn and I are now both poised for a fight. Of course we are. It's how we work together. It's what makes our relationship what it is.

Read: Damaged.

I rise to the unspoken challenge in Quinn's tone and body language, "Really Quinn? Because you kind of look like you're ready to go a few rounds. Maybe get in a good kick or two. Is that what you want? To slap me down?"

Quinn' expression shutters and her voice lowers to a barely audible murmur. She shakes her head, "I think I've had enough of those physical confrontations with you."

I don't know why I react the way I do but I instantly arch up. Like an angry cat, my hackles rise in response to her quiet statement, "You didn't seem to mind our physical confrontations last night," I throw the words back at her.

I know instantly that I've gone too far and said too much. Quinn's face seems to crumple, shifting abruptly from anger to confusion to general devastation. The anger which had boiled up so quickly inside of me fades into nothing almost instantly. I don't even really know what we're fighting about anymore. I stand awkwardly mid way down the stairs, unsure of how to proceed. Quinn remains still at the bottom, staring intently at a loose thread on her sleeve. Her eyes are glossy.

When the first sob makes her shoulders shake Brittany is the one to stumble down the last few stairs; she wraps her arms around Quinn's shaking body and whispers comforting nonsense into Quinn's hair. Quinn wraps her arms around Brittany's waist, burying her face into Brittany's shoulder.

When I finally approach them, close enough to see Quinn's face I almost shudder. I can see pain in her eyes more devastating than I've ever seen before. I know now why she ran away from me and Brittany. She wanted to avoid exactly this. She didn't want me to see all this pain and hurt and fear written so clearly across her features.

I think of how Quinn presents herself at school; she holds her emotions behind the highest walls. That's why everyone thinks she is cold and emotionless. She appears heartless, not because she is but because she is terrified of what people would see if she did let her feelings show.

I want to comfort her, I really do.

I think back to the mini breakdown Britt and I were witness to in New York a few months ago. Quinn had lashed out then, pissed off and determined to destroy our chances at National's. The Quinn I had witnessed that day, though a little nuts at least had some strength in her. She was a woman with a plan. She had her shields up and her defenses prepared. Brittany and I had slipped passed her walls by pure luck. We had slipped through a crack to see her pain.

On that day we got her passed that little Berry/Finn revenge kick long enough to get a hair cut and forget about her ruin-our-chances-at-Nationals plan. Today I don't know what to do. I have no suggestions, no ideas for how to get passed this.

Quinn is just so broken.

Today, Quinn's walls are not just damaged but completely gone and I know it's my fault. After these last few weeks I should have understood how Quinn would react. I should have been able to stop this exact scenario from happening. As it is, I am utterly void of ideas on how to repair the broken girl now wrapped in Brittany's arms.

Brittany continues to run her fingers through Quinn's hair just like I had done after Quinn had argued with her father; just as I had down for her last night.

I stand awkwardly, staring at the carpet until Brittany finally pulls away from Quinn just a little, "Come upstairs Quinn, we can talk about this okay?"

Quinn nods and I step back to let Brittany brush past me with Quinn still wrapped tightly in her arms. I watch them pass and Brittany turns to give me a look that clearly says how disappointed in me she is. I feel my heart clench in my chest and I remember what Brittany had said earlier about me breaking Quinn(again). I don't know what it means or how all of this could be my fault or how Brittany could be mad at me.

I'm just going along with Brittany's plans aren't I? It was Britt's idea for me to get Quinn into bed; to shove Quinn out of her custom built closet(prison) and realize what she wanted and how she feels about girls. I was practically following orders wasn't I?

Wasn't I?

Even in my own mind, my excuses and deflections feel weak and insincere. Sure Brittany had been the first to come to the conclusion that Quinn might secretly be a great big Lez. Brittany had even been the one to notice all those subtle indications that led her to the very true conclusion that Quinn had feelings for Rachel Berry.

But in the end I was the one to follow up on Britt's ideas. I was the one to approach Quinn under the bleachers. I had put Britt's ideas into action and actively pursued Quinn, regardless of what I knew I could be doing to Quinn's feelings. Most importantly, I was the one that had left Quinn alone in her house to deal with all that emotional shit that comes with realizing just how fucking gay you really might be.

It took me months to deal with that realization. It nearly destroyed me when Brittany chose her relationship with Artie over me.

Not that Quinn is in love with me. This particular notion of Britt's is ridiculous.

I care for her and she for me. I know that much for sure. But that's it.

"Santana?"

When I hear Brittany's voice call my name from her room I jolt as if from sleep. I'm still mid way down the stairs and Quinn has disappeared with Britt into her room.

I follow quickly, minding the steps that I know squeak on Brittany's stairs. I know that there is no need to muffle my steps in the house right now but I do it anyway. Almost habitually. With all the times that Britt and I have snuck into her room after curfew it shouldn't be surprising that I tread the same careful steps.

When I get into Brittany's room I find Quinn still wrapped up in Brittany's arms. They're on the floor leaning into the side of Britt's bed. Brittany has her back against the overhanging comforter and Quinn is leaning into Brittany's chest, sobbing quietly.

I sit down in front of them with my legs folded underneath me. I stare at my hands as I pick awkwardly at the lint and fluff stuck in the carpet. From my position I can see the pink mark left in the beige carpet where Britt spilled red cordial on the floor. I'm pretty sure we were maybe twelve years old when that happened. Right next to it is a small burned spot where I dropped the cherry of a joint I was smoking early last year. It gives me an idea.

"Hey Britt," I begin hesitantly. "Have you still got that weed I left here in the last week of summer?"

Britt gives me a speculative look, "Yeah San, but I thought we agreed. No—"

"Yeah no alcohol."I interrupr her thought, "And I wholeheartedly agree but I think we might need this one. Things are getting way too hectic."

Quinn gives a tiny hiccup as if to reinforce my notion that things have gotten way too heavy to deal with clear headed. Brittany looks down at Quinn's pink head before looking back at me. I hold my breath, unsure for the first time in a long time what Brittany's response is going to be. Finally she shrugs and then nods her head towards her bedside table.

I jump up immediately to retrieve the small parcel from the back of her draw. I then wriggle on my stomach past the two girls, half under the bed to retrieve the lighter, papers and filters from between the planks of Brittany's bed frame.

We've been using these hiding places for years. For everything from weed and alcohol to condoms. If Britt's Mum has ever found any of it she's failed to confront us about it. Honestly, I'd say Mrs Pierce would rather just pretend she hadn't found anything incriminating in her daughters room. That's just how she operates.

I unsnap the zip locked bag and breath in deeply. The familiarity of the smell is comforting. Quinn looks up at me and I can see that her tears have finally stopped. There seem to still be aftershock of sobs running through her but they are dry and silent.

"Chronic lady?" Quinn asks.

I smile at her in what I hope is a friendly way, "Nah, not that good. It's from one of Puck's cousins. It'll do the job though."

Quinn nods and I know that I'll be rolling one for her.

I pull out the first paper and filter, crossing my legs and stretching my dress across my knees to make a surface I can work on. I use the scissors that I found alongside the papers under Britt's bed to chop the grass straight back into the zip locked bag. I don't need to ask if Brittany will be joining us. She never denies her place in a peace circle. I think maybe she considers it bad luck or something to sit out. Either way, I know she's in and chop enough to share.

I glance up at the two girls watching me. Quinn is still leaning heavily into Brittany and Britt is still running her hands through Quinn's shaggy, pink hair.

I clear my throat, "So um...Apparently we have some stuff to talk about. I mean,I'd rather just get high and skip the melodrama altogether but I'm trying to grow as a person or something so yeah," I'm feeling much more comfortable talking about stuff now that my hands are occupied.

Brittany and Quinn share a look I can't interpret before they both turn away from each other with a smirk.

"What?" I ask wondering what I could possibly have missed in the few moments it took me to follow them upstairs. "What did I miss."

Quinn answers and I'm glad she's found her steady voice again, "It's nothing. We just...um...we knew you would open with the word 'apparently'."

Quinn unsuccessfully tries to smother a giggle as Brittany continues her thought, "Yeah I tried to lay five bucks on it but Quinn refused to bet against me," she shrugs as if to say c'est la vie.

I shake my head and return my concentration to the scissors in my hands.

From the corner of my eye I see Quinn snuggle further into Brittany, "Are you um," Quinn starts hesitantly. "Are you ready talk about stuff."

I try really hard to not roll my eyes at her. It's as if I was the one who was all avoid-y this morning instead of her. I mean sure, she tried to jump in the shower with me but other that little act of crazy, Quinn was thoroughly dedicated to the not-talking thing.

I stare determinedly at the pack of papers in my lap as I respond with as little snark as I can manage, "Well, yeah. If you are."

Brittany rolls her eyes rather spectacularly. At both of us. "Please will one of you start talking about something?" She's finally had enough of us both, apparently.

I put the scissors down beside me and start filling a fresh paper in my lap. I maintain a focus on this activity so I won't bother responding. I keep my ears tuned to any potential change in Quinn though and I hear one of them move.

Quinn is the first to say anything, "Well, stuff happened."

I scoff, "Yeah you could say that."

"Santana," Brittany warns and I can feel the disapproving glare she shoots me.

Quinn continues, "It's well. We...did...had..."

I interrupt her stuttering, "We had sex Quinn. It's okay to say it out loud. No one's going to smite you." I've rolled the joint as tightly as I can manage but there is still a little too much wiggle room for my liking and sigh, unrolling the joint and discarding the paper.

Quinn scoffs, "Sure that's easy for you to say. You haven't been to church since, like the second grade. You haven't had a father—" she stalls and swallows what I know must be fresh tears. "You haven't had a father beating Leviticus into you with the rest of scripture since before you could walk."

I have no response so I scowl darkly at the new paper in my hands as though it had personally caused Quinn's father to be an asshole.

Quinn starts quoting scripture, "Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable," she says, quoting from heart.

"Do you know the whole thing?" I ask.

"Only the bits my father liked to quote frequently." Quinn replies with a shrug.

"So your Dad liked the gay bashing?" I ask before letting the tip of my tongue slip passed my lips in full concentration. I glance up long enough to see Quinn frown, "Do you think maybe he knew?"

"Knew what?"

I avoid rolling my eyes, only just, "That you're a big homo. Like, he was quoting Leviticus at you like nobodies business because he knew you were inclined toward a—fully justified—preference for the fairer sex."

Quinn is silent and I feel a moment of panic. I'be said the wrong thing yet again.

Brittany interrupts our back and forth with more bible verses, "And if the burnt sacrifice for his offering to the LORD be of fowls, then he shall bring his offering of turtledoves, or of young pigeons." I hadn't expected Britt to have scripture memorized but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised as she adds her own interpretations. "If the first chapter of that book demands that a baby pigeon be sacrificed then I don't think I can listen to much of what it says."

I know just enough about Leviticus to understand that Britt is using the easiest to digest argument against it and Quinn seems to respond in a mostly positive way. At least, she doesn't automatically shut down. She closes her eyes and presses a palm against her face.

Brittany continues, "It also says that if a man cheats on his wife both the man and the woman must die. Do you think your Dad is still quoting that section?"

"Exactly," I say as I hold up my first completed joint level to my eyes, "That filthy old hypocrite didn't even bother with the basic thou-shalt-not's. Is he really the one you want guiding your moral compass?"

Satisfied with my efforts, I hold the newly rolled smoke out to Quinn. She takes a deep breath before lifting it from my hand. With my hands free, I'm able to reach a blanket from the bed and throw it towards the door. Hopefully it will be enough to stop any smoke spreading into the rest of the house.

Brittany gives Quinn's shoulders one more squeeze before slipping away from her and standing up. She moves quickly to the window and throws back the latch. Breathing onto the glass she draws a love heart into the condensation. Quinn lights up the joint.

There is a small squeek as Brittany draws an arrow through her heart and I can here the smallest crackle of heat as Quinn takes her first drag. She holds the smoke in her chest as she passes the joint to me.

Brittany opens the window finally as Quinn lets out her breath and I take my first drag. It tastes awful and burns my throat but I hold it deep in my chest all the same, letting the smoke drift slowly out through my nose. I hold my hand out to Brittany who takes a seat in between me and Quinn. My back is to the door now and Quinn is still leaning against the bed.

"So now that we've gotten past scripture," I talk directly to Quinn as more smoke escapes my mouth. "Can we get into the way better stuff? Like what we're going to do about all these gay feelings of yours."

Quinn glares at me, "Who says I'm gay anyway. I mean maybe I just felt like having sex and you were there."

I share a glance with Brittany, "Well sure, maybe you just felt like having sex with someone and that someone just happened to be a girl. But what about Berry?"

"What about Rachel?"

Uh oh.

"Well you do have a fairly substantial lady crush on her." I can feel the weed taking effect and cushioning my brain against higher thought processes. I hope that the same effect is happening to Quinn so she won't be able to maintain her usual capacity for self deception.

I take the smoke back from Brittany to drag down another lung full and pass it on to Quinn.

I'm glad when Quinn takes it without a thought, "Do you remember Junior prom?" she asks abruptly. I turn my body to look at her more directly. She looks about ready to cry again and she continues with a slight tremor to her voice, "I was so worried that everyone would figure out how much Finn wanted Rachel, so worried that I would look alone at prom. I was terrified," she gives a mocking laugh.

I give her a small smile as I remember the night of Junior Prom, "You still had your photo taken, even after Finn got kicked out. You got back in there."

She gives me another teary smile, "And do you know why I was able to do that?

"Get your photo taken?"

"Yeah and carry on with Prom in general," she paused to wipe away the tears that had escaped her eyes. "The only reason that I was able to go back into the gym, have my photo taken alone, dance, any of it...The only reason I didn't just go home with mascara streaming down my cheeks is because of Rachel."

I give her a quizzical look, "But she's one of the reasons you were crying in the first place."

Quinn shakes her head, "No, Finn is the reason I was crying. Finn was the reason that I was forced off that stage in tears."

I'm tempted to point out that it was actually the student body's mass-homophobia in electing Kurt Prom Queen that had sent us both away in tears but I don't.

She continues with a light blush flooding her cheeks, "I slapped her. Did you know that?"

I did not know that, "I'll be honest, I was a little wrapped up in my own deal actually"

"Well I did. And do you know what her response was?" Quinn started to cry again. "She said I was the prettiest girl she had ever met and then wiped the tears from my face. She had the softest touch you could possibly imagine and this was after I had slapped her. I mean, I slapped the girl and all she wanted was to be nice to me. She said she 'appreciated the drama' or something but I'm sure she just wanted to make sure that I was okay. Can you imagine Rachel ever being that selfless?"

I shake my head. I can't imagine any member of the Glee club being that selfless.

"Yeah, neither could I." She looks completely dejected, as though everything we've been talking about has been weighing on her heavily.

"So what does this all come down to in the end?" I ask her. "Are you in love with her or something?"

Quinn shrugs non committaly.

I roll my eyes, "Well, I think it's time for you to figure that out Q."