Chapter 11

It was the first time that Quinn had felt this well rested since moving to New York. As she made her way downstairs she saw Santana sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee from a Starbuck's cup, reading the paper, and eating half a bagel. Before saying a word Quinn poured herself a cup of coffee, dropped another bagel half in the toaster, and then grabbed a jar of peanut butter from the fridge. Taking a slow gratifying sip from her mug she smiled at Santana. "Morning." Looking up from what she was reading Santana returned the salutation and then grabbed a bite from her bagel. "How late were you up last night?" Quinn asked, curious as to how her friend would answer.

Santana went back to skimming the paper. "Late. Some times convincing that man to trust my instincts is like pulling teeth. You would think after this long he would get it."

"You're the one who went into public relations and politics."

"It shouldn't be this difficult all the time. There is something called common sense."

Quinn laughed. "If that were true we might both be out of jobs."

"You have a point." The toaster took that moment to pop up and Quinn proceeded to throw peanut butter on her bagel while Santana took another sip from her coffee. "So Quinn, what had you all worked up last night?"

Quinn put the dirty knife in the dishwasher. She was hoping Santana hadn't noticed. It appeared she had. "Worked up?"

"Unless you were out having a blind woman do your face at Sephoria, you had been crying."

"It's no big deal." Quinn deflected taking a seat at the table.

"Bull, and if you tell me you are having regrets about the divorce I will kick your ass."

"It wasn't anything to do with the divorce."

"I knew something was up." Santana said gratified but concerned. "Is everything okay?"

Quinn stared at her coffee cup. "You don't want to know."

"Quinn, come on, I'm being all "best friend" here. Lay it on me."

"I went to the theatre last night."

Santana placed the paper she had been reading aside and sat forward in her seat. "Please tell you didn't see that depressing new play in midtown."

Quinn foolishly stalled. "Worse."

"Worse? What could be worse then that?"

"I finally saw the show Rachel's in."

For a split second silence overwhelmed the room and then Santana pounced. "I take it back there is something worse. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I needed to do it. Get it over with, celebrate the past instead of running from it."

Santana shook her head. "And instead of celebrating, knowing you and the condition you were in when you got home, you walked the entire way home, dwelling on the past, and crying your eyes out."

"So what? It was a good thing."

"Having a 'cry' is never a good thing Quinn."

"Who says?"

"Me." Santana said taking another drink of her coffee.

Quinn reflected on things for a moment and then threw caution to the wind. "This is exactly why when I got home last night I was glad that you were on the phone."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Taking another moment Quinn looked directly at Santana trying to convey as much soft honesty as possible. "Because I knew you would react this way."

"What way?"

"Judgmentally, because you don't deal with certain things."

Quinn watched as defensive Santana started to appear. "What are you talking about?"

"Emotions. Okay? You don't deal well with certain emotions."

"So what?"

"So, you are my best friend and some times I think what you need more then anything in this world is a good cry."

The words seemed to catch Santana off guard. They had their share of honest conversations in the past but typically yelling was involved. Quinn knew this was about to go one of two ways, fight or flight. Perhaps because Quinn's observation was made with the best intentions Santana opted for the later. "I want to get to the gym before it gets to crowded. You coming?"

Quinn shook her head and then relented. "Sure."

"Great." Santana grabbed her coffee cup and headed upstairs. "Leave here in about twenty."

The Starbuck's cup in her hand didn't go unnoticed and neither had the sound of the front door opening at around seven that morning. There was no judgment on Quinn's part but at the same time she knew she was right. She had to address things with Santana, even if it was going to take forever to get through to her. Her friend had a lot more going on in that head of hers then she let on and the last thing Quinn wanted was to see was Santana ending up continuing down her current path. She was capable of so much warmth, compassion, and love but those pieces of her were being pushed farther and farther down.

Santana's crash course in emotional emptiness had started five years before and showed no signs of letting up. Quinn knew there was one drastic step she could take but was worried of the outcome. So putting her plate in the dishwasher Quinn resigned herself to the fact she would have to table this discussion for another time and went upstairs to get ready for the gym.