She was never going to drink again.

Rachel glanced around warily as she walked to her locker on Monday morning amidst the dozens of teenagers roaming the school hallways. It was official – she and alcohol did not mix. Her weekend had been absolutely miserable. She'd woken at half-past eleven the morning after the party with a wicked hangover. Her one consolation was that her dads were out of town; she would have received the grounding of her life had they been home. And she had more than she could handle right now.

Her misery had only been compounded by her guilt at how she'd blown up at Quinn after he'd rescued her. Everything she'd said had been simmering for so long now. The dam had just broken, and maybe she had needed to get them out. But that didn't excuse the immature screaming match they'd held on her front lawn that night. She'd said things she probably wouldn't have said sober, and she needed to apologize and thank him for rescuing her. She just wasn't sure if that apology would be accepted, or even if Quinn would agree to talk to her long enough to apologize at all.

Arriving at her locker, she reached out to put the combination in, pausing when her gaze landed on the white scar running down her palm. It looked like a pretty bad cut. When she'd emerged from her hangover, Rachel had felt terrible for ignoring it when it had materialized on Friday night. She normally wrote Lucas whenever she received a mark, but she just could not cope at the time. It was thinner now than it had been when it had appeared on Friday night, closed tight with telltale puncture marks of surgical sutures running down its sides. At least Lucas had gotten medical attention for it, even if he hadn't responded to her when she'd gotten around to writing him yesterday.

Shaking her head, she opened her locker with another furtive glance at her surroundings. Hoping against hope that she wouldn't encounter –

"Rach, can we talk?"

Rachel instantly tensed. Of course it would be too much to ask for Finn to stay away. She had tried so hard to put it out of her mind the entire weekend, torn between wanting to confront him for his behavior and wanting to just write it off as a bad dream. He'd been drunk, they both had been, but she'd never even considered that he would actually –

She took a deep breath to compose herself, her gaze fixed on the inside of her locker. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Wait, are you mad?" Finn asked incredulously. "I thought you wanted to get back together. I mean, you asked me to dance with you. And you seemed like you were into it when we were kissing and stuff –"

"Finn, stop." She shut her eyes briefly before turning to the tall quarterback, her thick binder clutched defensively in front of her chest. When she opened her eyes, she looked up at him. He seemed… confused, which only upset her more. "What happened at the party was a mistake, okay? I shouldn't –" Her voice shook, and she stopped to clear her throat. "I shouldn't have gone with you, and I shouldn't have danced with you, let alone let you kiss me."

Finn's confused puppy-dog expression morphed into a scowl then. "This is about that Fabray kid, isn't it? What did he say? We were doing great before he showed up, he wasn't even invited –"

"This isn't about Quinn, okay?" Rachel cut across him harshly. "And we weren't doing great."

"Sure we were, you went up to Puck's room with me."

"I told you I needed to get some air! I needed a break from the crowd, I didn't –" She swallowed. "I made a mistake, I shouldn't have let you kiss me, and I'm sorry if you feel I led you on. But you should have respected it when I asked you to stop."

Finn frowned. "But you wanted it!"

Rachel stared at him in disbelief. Did he really not understand? "Finn, I told you I wanted to stop, but you didn't listen. You didn't listen."

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" Finn asked, obviously frustrated. "You keep making me think you want me, and then you turn around and change your mind, it drives me crazy!" His palm slapped against the lockers, and Rachel flinched at the sound. Before she could say anything, Santana suddenly showed up, Brittany by her side as per usual.

"Uh-oh, Finnosaurus is on a rampage, everyone lock up your chairs," Santana mocked, leaning against the wall of lockers. "What's the matter, did the Hobbit turn you down for the millionth time?"

Finn glared at the cheerleader. "Stay out of this, Santana."

"Yeah, see, I would, but we can't have you steamrolling over the Midget. She's so tiny you'd probably crush her under those ginormous Goofy shoes you have, but we kind of need her to win us Sectionals. So how about you just go on and hyuk-hyuk your way to class, hmm?"

Rachel frowned, utterly confused. Was Santana Lopez actually helping her? Was hell freezing over? Her gaze darted between the quarterback and the head cheerleader before landing on Brittany, who smiled lightly. "Finn, did you really get those shoes from Goofy? Do you think you could ask him to get me some gloves from Mickey Mouse?"

Finn scowled, turning to the blonde. "Brittany, they're not Goofy's shoes, okay? You really need to grow up and stop being so stupid all the time." Rachel's eyes widened. Finn seemed to realize his mistake a second too late, and his eyes widened as well. "Brittany, I didn't mean it like that –"

Brittany nodded, face set and blue eyes cooler than Rachel had ever seen them. "Yeah. All the guys in Glee Club call me that. And you're the leader, so that makes you the worst of them all. You cannot call your future president an idiot. It's mean, it's bullying, and I won't accept it."

With that, the blonde cheerleader turned around and marched away. Santana gave Finn a malicious glare that promised evil things before following her soulmate.

Finn for his part looked mildly regretful for his words, but he quickly shook them off in favor of returning his attention to Rachel. "Rachel, look…"

Rachel held up her hand. "Finn, stop. I don't want to talk to you for a while." Right on cue, the bell rang. "Not now, okay?"

She made her escape, ducking into her classroom. If only it were that easy.

..

Thankfully, Finn didn't approach her again, and they didn't have glee today either, so that was one worry off her list. That was good, since Rachel's list was pretty long. Unfortunately, the second item didn't seem to be at school today. Rachel had checked Quinn's locker between each of her morning classes and had even gone out to the bleachers, but it had been in vain. Either he wasn't here or he was deliberately avoiding her. Disappointed, Rachel had retreated to the cafeteria for lunch.

Heading to an empty table, she opened her lunch – brought from home, because the cafeteria definitely did not cater to her vegan diet – and started to eat alone. Then she was surprised when Brittany showed up at her table with her own lunch tray. "Hi Rachel," the blonde greeted cheerfully, sitting down across from her as Rachel watched with wide eyes.

"Oh, um, hi Brittany." She returned the other girl's smile, albeit in a more bewildered manner. Brittany frowned, sitting down at Rachel's table.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm… doing alright," Rachel answered evasively. No, she wasn't, but she didn't need to burden Brittany with that. "Is Santana with you?" The last thing she needed was to put up with Santana Lopez right now.

Brittany shook her head. "No."

"Oh." Rachel watched as Brittany started to eat her sandwich. For once, she had no idea what to say and was too distracted to ramble, so instead she kept her mouth occupied by eating a bite of her salad.

"Do you still take dance lessons?" Brittany asked eventually.

Rachel blinked, mouth full. Swallowing, she nodded. "Um, yes, I do. I moved to a different dance studio last year, it's the one on 5th Street."

"I know that one," Brittany said brightly. "I still go to Mrs. Jenkins' studio, I started teaching the little kids' class last summer. It's a lot of fun."

Rachel smiled. "I can imagine. I'm sure you're a wonderful teacher." Brittany was brilliant with children, what with her bright personality. The studio Brittany had mentioned was the same one she and Rachel had gone to when they were younger, and it was nice to know that she'd come full circle. They'd been friendly back then, and the memories of what had transpired since then caused Rachel's smile to fade. "Brittany, not that I'm ungrateful or anything of the sort, but why are you talking to me?" she asked. "We both know Santana doesn't like me, and let's face it, you haven't really talked to me since grade school."

The blonde cheerleader shrugged, glancing down. "Yeah, I guess we haven't talked that much since me and San got together." She sighed a bit wistfully. "I kind of miss you."

Rachel blinked. "I… oh." She stalled, unsure of how to respond. "I didn't think you felt that way." She offered the taller girl a small smile. "I missed you too." She had never had many – any – friends to begin with, and her separation from Brittany had made her sad.

"I always felt kinda bad that we weren't friends anymore," Brittany admitted. "I was sad when we didn't go to the same middle school, 'cause, you know, you're one of the only people besides Santana who don't think I'm stupid."

Rachel's lips quirked up into a small smile. "I think you just have a different kind of intelligence."

"That's what Santana says too. You know, she doesn't hate you."

"Oh? I kind of find that hard to believe."

"It's true. She thinks your voice is awesome, but she doesn't want to admit it. She's just like that to everybody 'cause she thinks she has to be a badass. She pretends to be all mean and prickly like a cactus, but she's really nice inside if she lets you in."

"… I'll take your word for it."

"Oh, she can be super nice when she wants to be. And she helps me when I ask, like earlier when I got her to tell Finn off for you."

Rachel's eyes widened briefly. So that was why Santana had suddenly shown up between her and Finn that morning. "That was your doing? I… thank you. It was very helpful. I'm sorry Finn called you… you know."

"It's not your fault, Finn's totally a doofus," Brittany said seriously. "I don't really get why you dated him last year, he's like a mosquito that sucks up all your attention and happiness. And he's too tall." Rachel let out a small snort of amusement. That was actually an apt description of Finn. "Anyways, Santana can take care of him. She doesn't like it when people call me stupid."

Rachel smiled. Santana hardly looked like she had a soft side, but she did see how the Latina looked at Brittany sometimes in glee. Like she was the only thing in the world. "It must be nice to have someone who takes care of you like that."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I called Quinn to come to the party on Friday."

"Wait, what?" Rachel's smile fell off at the blonde's matter-of-fact statement. "You invited Quinn?"

"Well, no, I thought he was coming with you," Brittany admitted honestly. "But then you showed up with Finn. I called Quinn to come when you were dancing with Finn, 'cause I thought maybe you needed some help. You kinda looked like you needed it, especially when you and Finn went up to Puck's room." She frowned. "I was gonna get Santana to go up after you, but Quinn got to the house first. Then he went upstairs."

Rachel shook her head, trying to shake off a burgeoning headache. "Why would you call Quinn if you thought I needed help?"

The blonde cheerleader tilted her head. "Because Quinn's your soulmate."

Rachel's stared speechlessly. "I – what – no, he isn't." She was thrown completely off-balance. "No, he's not," she repeated more firmly, for an instant wishing Brittany were right. "My soulmate's name is Lucas, not Quinton. And I haven't met him."

"Ohh." Brittany nodded conspiratorially. "I get it. It's a secret, like with me and San. That's okay, Santana says the important thing is that we know. Maybe you and Quinn came come with me and Santana to Breadstix sometime. You know, like a double-date, but not. You can hold hands under a napkin too."

"Brittany, no, that's not – Quinn and I aren't – we don't –"

"Don't worry, Rachel, your secret's safe with me," Brittany smiled serenely as she stood up with her empty tray. "Anyways, I know Quinn helped you at the party. And I wanted to tell you, Santana takes care of me a lot, but I take care of Santana too, if she needs it. She does too, you know. Just like you're the one who needs to take care of Quinn right now."

"Brittany –"

The blonde smiled. "I gotta go meet Santana now."

Rachel's jaw was slack as Brittany glided away, her mind in complete disarray. It was impossible. Quinton Fabray wasn't her soulmate. It just couldn't be right. She shook her head, trying to clear it, but Brittany's wild theory had shaken her completely. She'd thought quite a few times that Quinn felt like what she thought Lucas would feel like, but it couldn't be. The name was wrong, and she'd know if it was true, wouldn't she?

She shook her head again. No, Brittany was simply seeing things, and Rachel was just tired from her hangover and distracted by the events at the party. It was that simple.

..

Of course it wasn't that simple.

Brittany's innocent assumption followed Rachel around all day, niggling at Rachel's mind. It was so completely distracting that she couldn't pay attention to her classes, and she barely even attempted to pay attention to Mr. Schue and his lesson on Spanish verbs.

Brittany couldn't be right. Quinn wasn't her soulmate. Rachel shut her eyes, trying to ward off the headache that had been building since lunch. If she took out everything but the name, she wouldn't have any trouble at all believing that Quinton Fabray was her soulmate. Her initial attraction, the comfort she felt around him, the inexplicable spark between them – it was everything she'd thought being with Lucas should feel like, but it wasn't with Lucas, and it was all wrong.

But what if it was right? What if Brittany was right, and by some fluke, Quinn really was her soulmate? What if Quinn and Lucas were the same person?

The bell rang suddenly, the shrill noise making Rachel jump. She looked around wildly as chairs started to scrape against the floor, Mr. Schue calling out reminders to turn in the homework for tomorrow. Rachel ignored him, gathering her things and hurrying to her locker.

Turning a corner, she stopped short when she saw a flash of pink hair down the hall. Quinn was there. There was an instant of relief, then Rachel's stomach lurched. She shook herself. Brittany was wrong. Quinn wasn't her soulmate, he was simply someone she needed to talk to, both to apologize to and thank for what had happened last Friday. She straightened her back, striding down the hall through the throng of students.

She was a few feet away when she opened her mouth, drawing in a breath to catch his attention. Then she froze, her words dying on her lips.

He was facing away from her, a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked the way he always did. But what made her turn into a statue in the middle of the hallway was the bandage wrapped around Quinn's left hand, visible for three seconds before he pushed it into his jacket pocket.

"Out of the way, loser."

Time unfroze a burly jock shoved past Rachel, making her stumble. She lost sight of Quinn for a moment, and by the time she looked up, he'd vanished into the crowd.

Rachel was left standing there, struck dumb. It took another shove from another student before she could gather enough wherewithal to move. She tried to take a deep breath. She needed to be able to think. Thankfully, the auditorium was nearby, and Rachel hurried inside to the blessed silence. Now here she was, pacing back and forth distractedly across the stage as she tried to make sense of things.

She needed to think.

She needed to breathe.

Taking a deep breath, she sat down at the grand piano, her hands resting deliberately on the keys as she desperately tried to organize her whirling thoughts. Slowly turning her left hand palm up, she traced down the white scar on her palm.

It was a coincidence. It had to be. Quinn could have sprained his wrist. Or he could have broken his hand. It didn't have to be a cut like the one Lucas had. Countless things could have happened for Quinn to have a bandage on his hand… at the same time Lucas did… in the same place.

"Oh God." Rachel buried her face in her hands. She rubbed her head, the very idea giving her a headache. It couldn't be true, because if it were, then what she'd said on Friday night was even more inexcusable. And his rejection… his rejection would be a thousand times worse.

Suddenly she sat up bolt upright. Blaine. Like a bolt of lightning, she remembered their conversation at the party on Friday, just before they'd been interrupted by Kurt.

He knew Quinn.

Blaine had known Quinn from before he'd moved to Lima… She swallowed. Blaine had said Quinn had a brother named Frank.

So did Lucas.

She set out of the auditorium, determined to find the former Warbler. In a stroke of luck, she quickly spotted him a few hallways away. Maybe fortune had decided that she needed a break. "Blaine, I need to talk to you."

He looked mildly surprised. "Um, okay. What's up?"

"Not here." She took his arm, practically dragging him into a nearby empty classroom and closing the door behind them. She turned to face him, wincing a little at the extremely confused expression on his face. "Sorry, that was probably a little dramatic. But I need to talk to you. About Quinn."

"Oh." Blaine's confusion cleared a bit. "Okay, yeah."

"When we were at the party, you said you knew Quinn because his brother was married to your sister. Is that right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, smiling a bit self-deprecatingly. "The party's kind of fuzzy, but yeah, that's right. My sister Callie is soulmates with Quinn's older brother, Frank. They met when we were still living in Illinois, and they got married, oh, three years ago." He frowned. "Rachel, are you okay?"

Rachel swallowed when Blaine waved his hand in her face, peering at her with a concerned expression. "Are you okay?" he asked again. "You kind of zoned out there…"

Her jaw moved up and down soundlessly for a few seconds. She cleared her throat, leaning forward as she fixed Blaine with an intense gaze. "Blaine, this is imperative. I need you to answer my questions to the best of your ability, okay?"

Blaine, for his part, did a good job of not looking completely unnerved. "Uh, okay?"

"Your sister's name is Callie, and her soulmate's name is Frank?"

"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "Franklin Fabray."

"And Frank is Quinn's brother? You're absolutely sure?"

"I'm sure. I'm not all that close with Callie or Frank, and they didn't mention his mom and his brother were moving to Lima until I sent Callie a private message on Facebook last week. And I didn't really make the connection before, since Quinn used to go by Luke when we were kids."

A strangled whimper escaped Rachel's throat. "Luke?"

"Yeah. He switched to Quinn sometime before Callie's wedding, I guess. We didn't interact much when were kids. But Callie's ten years older than me, and I remember there was a crazy huge age gap between Frank and Luke too."

Rachel's hand covered her mouth for an instance before she managed to compose herself. "What else?"

"What do you mean, what else?"

"Can you tell me anything about him? Anything at all whatever you can remember." Rachel knew she probably sounded a little insane right now, but she didn't care. "Please. It's important."

"Uh, okay. I don't know a lot about him. It was years ago, and Callie and Frank moved to California for college when I was around eight. Our families didn't get together much, it was mostly Frank coming to our house. Last time I saw Luke was probably at the wedding three years ago, and I didn't see him a whole lot." Blaine rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Luke was pretty quiet, I guess, from what I remember."

"What did he look like?"

"Blonde, hazel eyes. Glasses. Pretty cute actually, when I saw him at the wedding."

Rachel stepped back abruptly. "I have to go." She turned, only to be stopped by Blaine's hand on her arm.

"Rachel, what's this about?" he asked. "You're kind of freaking me out."

She hesitated, looking into his eyes. How on earth was she supposed to explain when she didn't understand it all herself? "I… I can't tell you right now. But I will, okay? I just really need to go right now." She pulled away, heading for the door. Then she turned around, taking the few steps back to him and engulfing the bewildered boy in a hug. "Thank you. I'll tell you more when I figure it out, I promise."

..

Once again Rachel found herself simultaneously grateful and upset with her fathers' absence for the week. She needed to think without distraction, but she wished she had someone to talk to. She'd been going over every single interaction she'd ever had with Quinn since she'd gotten home two hours ago, trying to figure it out, trying to understand, because just how had she missed the fact that she was face to face with her own soulmate for this long?

Did he know? For an instant she toyed with the idea that maybe he didn't know who she was, before quickly discarding it. Of course he knew. He'd had her full name and address since they were eleven, and unlike him, she hadn't started using a different name. She shut her eyes briefly, the idea that he had known all this time making her so angry. She felt like such a fool.

So many things made sense now. How he knew so much about her. He'd known she was vegan without her telling him, he'd known her father was a doctor and had been unsurprised when she'd confided that she had two fathers.

He'd known about what Finn had done last year.

Slowly, her anger started to melt away. When all was said and done, he'd still cared enough about her to help her when she'd needed it. After that slushy a few months ago. After the Maria auditions when she'd fought with Mercedes. When she'd messed up with Kurt.

Friday night.

And he liked her. It had been evident in the flowers that he'd left, in the way he'd gone out of his way to help her the past couple of months. And then those things he'd said about his soulmate… about her. He thought she was talented (she was in full agreement with that assessment) and he thought she was beautiful (that one not so much). She blushed a little when she remembered his words, berating herself for her now ridiculous anger at Quinn's hypothetical soulmate for not seeing his value. It turned out his soulmate wasn't unappreciative, simply oblivious.

But then, if that really were the way Lucas – Quinn – felt about her, what had happened? What exactly had Rachel done to make him change his mind so abruptly? Why hadn't he told her?

She shut her eyes. It made her sick to think about their argument now. She'd promised herself that when she met Lucas, she wouldn't make him feel any worse about himself that she already knew he did. She'd broken that promise.

Rachel flopped face-first onto her bed with a groan. This was driving her insane. He was driving her insane.

..

Later that evening Rachel unlocked the door to her Dad's Prius late that evening, stowing her bag of vegan Rocky Road on the passenger seat.

Her insanity hadn't abated by the time she finished eating dinner. She wanted – needed to talk to Quinn – Lucas – whatever. She didn't even know what to call him anymore. At the same time, maybe it was good that they have some time apart. In her condition, it was probably a toss-up as to whether or not she'd start yelling at him for keeping her in the dark. Which would probably not be the most conducive way to hash things out.

It was a fantastic mess she'd gotten herself into, and she had needed comfort food. She'd needed ice cream. Sadly, her trip to the freezer had unearthed an almost-empty ice cream container. Apparently her Daddy had gotten into her vegan ice cream, which was why she was now halfway across town. Thank God she had her parents' permission to use the car. It was a twenty-minute drive back home, but she could use the time to think.

Unfortunately, the only thing she could think of was stupid, stupid, stupid.

Every time she recalled something about Quinn, she remembered it in Lucas too. And vice versa.

Lucas liked to draw, and she presumed he was good. She'd seen Quinn's notebook when he'd left it at her house, and he was good.

Lucas had a brother named Frank, So did Quinn.

Quinn played football. So did Lucas. Both were forced by their fathers into playing.

Rachel swallowed at the thought of Lucas/Quinn's father. He'd told her his parents had divorced over a year ago. So that was why the bruises had stopped right around then.

She took a deep breath, forcing her attention on the road. Enough. She was thinking of him too much. She needed to stop. In fact, she was starting to hallucinate, thinking she saw him sitting on one of the benches over there in the park she was passing by…

Wait.

She wasn't hallucinating. Quinn was sitting on one of the benches in the park, his pink hair just vivid enough to be recognizable under one of the nearby streetlights. Rachel slowed the car, looking at the dashboard clock. It was past nine in the evening, what was he doing out here? It was November, and while it was unseasonably warm, it was still cold enough to make him sick if he stayed out for too long.

On impulse she slid into a convenient parking spot and cut the engine, hesitating slightly before hopping out of the car. She took a moment to compose herself. She could do this. Straightening her shoulders, she walked as purposefully as she could in the direction of her soulmate. She paused for a moment, swallowing when she saw the bandage on his hand again. "Quinn?"

His head turned towards her immediately, a mix of emotions fluttering across his face before it settled into a scowl. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk."

"Oh, we do, do we?" He blew out a puff of smoke, tossing his cigarette away.

Rachel's brow furrowed as she detected a slight slur in his voice. Nerves forgotten, she glanced down, spotting a paper bag next to Quinn on the bench. "Are you drunk?"

"None of your business."

Huffing, Rachel stepped forward, picking up the bag. There was an empty bottle in it. That, along with the hint of alcohol on his breath, confirmed her suspicions. "You are drunk."

Quinn's scowl intensified, and he snatched the paper bag and the bottle back. "What do you care? I'm just a coward, remember? Leave me alone. Go be with Hudson or whoever."

Rachel faltered for a moment, remembering her words from Friday night. "Quinn, I'm sorry about what I said, okay? I shouldn't have said any of those things, especially not after what you did for me. You were right, I… I didn't want Finn to do what he did, and I am very thankful that you got there in time to help me."

The anger had faded from Quinn's face by the end of her speech, simply leaving him looking miserable. "Fine. Yeah, it's whatever, okay? Just go home already, before I have to bail you out of something again. And then get yelled at for it."

Rachel bristled at that. She'd wanted a bit more eloquent of an acceptance, but she supposed she deserved it, and she couldn't expect too much from a drunk teenager anyways. She shook her head. "Okay, first, you're the one who started that fight, and second, I refuse to have this conversation with a drunk partner. You're coming with me, I'm taking you home."

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Go away, Berry, I dragged your ass home last time, it's my turn to be drunk now. Go 'way."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Well, since you did in fact 'drag my ass home' it would only be fair of me to do the same. I can't just leave you here in the park, you'll probably be found by some poor jogger tomorrow, drowned in a pool of your own vomit. Come on." She grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him up. He was much heavier than she was though, and he barely budged.

"Cute," he drawled.

"Shut up, I'm trying to help. How did you even get here? Did you drive? If so, then that was very irresponsible of you."

"Walked."

"Good." At least she didn't have to worry about her soulmate driving under intoxication. "Lucky for you, I have a car." She finally succeeded in getting him upright, and she kept a firm grip on him as he swayed a bit. "I'm taking you home."

He yanked his arm away. "No."

"What do you mean no?" Rachel glared at him in exasperation. "Where else am I supposed to take you?"

"I'm not going home."

"Fine, my house then."

"NO."

Rachel was this close to losing her patience. Only the fact that he was somehow apparently her soulmate kept her from just leaving him there. "You can choose whether you want me to take you to your house or mine, but I am not leaving you here. So pick, or I'll decide for you."

Quinn gave her a baleful glare. "Fine. My house. Happy?"

"Ecstatic. Address?"

..

A few short minutes later, the two were in Hiram's car, well on the way to the Fabray residence. Rachel shot Quinn a sideways glance. "If you feel like you need to throw up, please try to aim outside the window."

"You told me to leave you alone, maybe you should try taking your own advice," Quinn growled, head propped up against the window.

"That's not fair," Rachel accused. "I was drunk, and maybe that doesn't excuse any of what I said, but you know what, you hurt me. You hurt me, Quinn, and yes, you did help me with Finn at the party, but it was so unfair of you to berate me for what happened!"

"You –"

"I already felt terrible about what happened, and I was scared, and it didn't help that you were basically calling me an idiot for going with Finn in the first place!"

"I was scared too, okay?!"

Rachel stared at him, surprised by his outburst. "What?"

Quinn dragged a hand down his face. "I was scared because I almost got there too late, and you told him to stop and he didn't! That's not supposed to happen to you t –" He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. "So yeah, I got scared, and I got mad, and maybe – maybe I shouldn't have yelled at you for it, but I did and I hurt you again, and I can't seem to stop fucking doing that!"

Rachel took a deep breath. "You know how you could try to stop hurting me? You could just try talking to me. It's that simple."

"Wait, so you're fine with everything I did? I pushed you away, I yelled at you, and what, you just forgive me?"

"Well, I'm not totally fine, I'm still a little put out, but I'm willing to hear you out. You deserve that." She paused, considering her words carefully. "I'm sure you had your reasons for everything. But I don't want to do this while you're drunk."

Silence filled the car for the rest of the trip, until Rachel pulled up to a residence in one of the more affluent areas of Lima. She couldn't see much of the house, dark as it was, but it seemed to be a good size, with a nice lawn in front. "We're here."

Quinn sat motionless in the front seat, and Rachel sighed. He'd probably fallen asleep. She reached out to shake him awake, only to freeze when he spoke suddenly.

"You already know, don't you."

Rachel pulled her hand back, suddenly on the spot. "Know what?" she asked, trying to play it off.

Quinn rubbed a hand down his face, his exhaustion and misery almost palpable. "Rachel."

Rachel nodded, dropping the façade. It was the first time he'd called her by her first name. "Lucas."

There was a moment of silence. Then, "When did you figure out?"

"Today, if you can believe it." She shook her head. "I can't believe I didn't see it before. I feel so stupid."

"You're not. I didn't want you to see it."

"Why not?"

Quinn – Lucas – let out a ragged laugh. "Because – because – just because."

That wasn't much of an explanation. Rachel averted her eyes, looking straight at the windshield. Her head bent forward, she asked, "Were you disappointed when you met me?"

"No." The sharp answer got her to look at him again. There was an angry look on his face, but it wasn't directed at her. He wasn't even looking at her, but at the window. "I wasn't. You were everything I wanted you to be. More. But I'm not. I'm not what I'm supposed to be. You're not supposed to be with me, okay?"

Abruptly he opened the door, escaping out into the street. After a moment of shock Rachel hurried after him, catching him on the front lawn of his house with her hand on his wrist. A sudden sense of deja vu swept over her. "Quinn, you're not making any sense. You –"

"God, you are just so frustrating!" He yanked his hand away, an almost baleful look in his bloodshot hazel eyes. "W-why do you have to make this so h-hard?"

Rachel frowned in hurt. "I understand that you're drunk, but you're not making any sense. I'm not trying to hurt you."

"Y-you –" He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. "Why do you have to be so nice to me?"

"What?"

"Don't you understand that you're not supposed to be with me? I'm not good enough for you, and I know I never will be, but I can't stop myself from wanting to be with you, but you deserve so much better than me and it's killing me to push you away!"

Rachel stared at him, conflicted. "Then don't."

He shook his head forlornly. "I'm not good for you, Rachel, and I wish… I wish I were better. I wish I weren't like this. You don't deserve a soulmate who's messed up like me." He took a breath. "You're supposed to be with Lucas. Not me."

This conversation was driving her crazy. "I don't understand."

Quinn shook his head. "Lucas is your soulmate. You're supposed to be with… You're not supposed to be with someone like me, okay?"

"Like what?"

"Broken, okay?! You're not supposed to be with someone as broken as me! I don't – God!" He laughed again, bitter and angry. "I am so screwed up, you don't even know the half of it. And someone like you – someone who's good, and talented, and so, so perfect, you're not meant to be with a screwup like me, okay?" He backed away, nodding. "And the sooner we accept that, the better."

Rachel shook her head firmly. "No. Not better. I refuse to accept that without a further explanation. We're soulmates, that means an equal partnership and it's unfair for you to make a decision to stop this without my input. I at least deserve to have an explanation."

Quinn glared at her for a moment before nodding. "Fine. You want an explanation?" He reached out, his hand closing on her wrist, tight enough to keep her in place but nowhere near hard enough to hurt her.

"W-what are you doing?" She let out a soft gasp as he ignored her, wordlessly pulling her in close until he could wrap his arm around her waist. The mixture of vodka and cigarette smoke and Quinn's own personal scent surrounded her, and she swallowed, trying to calm her frantic heart. The position was more intimate than they'd ever been, and Rachel's breath caught as his fingers fumbled at the edge of her sweater. Her hand quickly covered his own, trying to stop him. "Quinn –"

She cut herself off with a sharp inhale as gentle fingers met skin, laying right on top of the scars that resided on her left hip. She swallowed again, looking up into pained hazel eyes. "Quinn…"

"I did that," he whispered hoarsely. "I did that, and I remember what you wrote to me that night. I know I hurt you by doing it, but for a second, I didn't care. I am not good for you, Rachel. I'm too fucked up and I'm going to hurt you, even if I try not to, and I can't do that. I won't let myself do that. Okay?"

At last he released her, and Rachel stumbled back a few steps, reeling, speechless. "Quinn –"

"Just…" Quinn let out a breath, an anguished expression crossing his face. "Just go home, Rachel."

With that he turned around, trudging miserably into the house. The door shut with a soft click, and for an eternity, Rachel stood there on the front lawn, unable to speak.


Rachel frowned as a sharp white line slid into appearance across the tip of her finger. A papercut. The eight-year-old was lounging at home, watching a movie on TV and hadn't been doing anything that could have caused the injury, which meant that Lucas was responsible. Hurrying upstairs to get her marker, she returned to the living room and wrote a message.

Where did you get the papercut?

It took a few minutes to get a reply, and she'd returned her focus to the movie when she saw it.

Sorry. I was helping Frank pack his stuff. He's leaving for college soon. He told me to fix some of the papers on his desk.

Oh, I see. It's nice of you to help him.

No choice. It's kind of crazy over here.

If you're busy, we can talk later.

No, we're done. We're having dinner soon anyways.

Rachel glanced at the clock. He was right, it was almost dinnertime and she could hear her Daddy puttering around in the kitchen. Leroy was mostly the one who cooked, since Hiram often stayed late at the hospital. Rachel was a bit lonely, especially in the summers like now. Her dads did their best to organize their schedules so that someone stayed home with her, but she wished she had someone her own age.

What's it like having a big brother? I wish I had a sibling sometimes, it gets lonely by myself.

There was a short pause before Lucas answered. It's okay. Frank's annoying sometimes and he makes fun of me. But I guess he can be nice too. He taught me how to ice skate last December.

That's nice of him. Dad taught me last year.

My dad taught Frank, but then he got too busy to teach me so Frank did it. Anyway, Frank's a lot older so he mostly spends time with Callie. That's his soulmate. There was a short pause. I'm kind of jealous that they met so early.

Rachel smiled a little. I am too. I wish we lived near each other so we could meet already.

I guess having an older brother is kind of weird because Frank's really good at school and sports and stuff. My dad wants me to be like that, but I'm not.

Rachel frowned. I'm sure that's not true. She couldn't really relate, not being versed in the complexities of sibling rivalries and parents' comparisons. As far as she knew, her dads had absolutely no plans to adopt another child. But either way, she'd known her soulmate for over a year now, and she knew he was great.

Dad's always saying my grades aren't as good as Frank's. And I don't really like playing sports. I like reading and drawing better.

I thought you were playing soccer this summer.

Yeah. It's okay. Coach Richards says I'm good.

I'm sure you're great. I don't know a lot about sports, but I'm sure you'll win a lot.

Thanks. But I'd still rather do other stuff. Frank's the sports guy. I just want to make my dad happy.

My Daddies say you don't need to be like another person, you just need to be you. You don't have to be good at sports and things like that like your brother. You should be Lucas, not Frank.

A short pause. I guess. I never thought of it that way. But I guess Dad's right about the sports thing. Frank got a scholarship for football, so they don't have to pay for him to go to college.

I'm sure you're proud of him.

Yeah. Frank and Callie are going to the same college, I think they're going to be roommates. My mom's not too happy about it, but I'm not sure why.

Frank is a lot older than us, isn't he? He had to be. He was going to college, and Rachel knew people didn't go to college until they were practically grown-ups.

He's nine years older than me. It's kind of funny, because Callie's got a little brother who's even younger than me.

"Rachel, dinner! Set the table, please!" Leroy called, rapping on Rachel's door.

"Okay, coming, Daddy!" Rachel called back. She picked up her pen again.

I have to go.

Me too, my mom's calling.

Okay. Talk to you soon.


And we have angst galore. Wow, they've been miserable for a few chapters already, haven't they? Happiness is coming though, so stay tuned. I was going to cut it after the revelation, but since I take so long to write I figured I'd just go ahead and put in part 1 of the Faberry reconciliation. Glad the last chapter worked out, I still get crazy nervous whenever I post something and your reviews make me very happy. Hopefully this one was good too.

Anyways, I'll see you next time!