A/N: I do so love Matt, Mike and Brittany.

Mostly, it's lovely. Having dinner with his mom and sister--well maybe she had been a little nervous, but it was all so normal, so much like she'd always pictured having a boyfriend, down to laughing and flicking soap-suds at him as they did the dishes. And then there's the way he seems to be picking her up for school now (if two days in a row means anything that is). And the way he seems to like being close to her. Not just making out, but sometimes his hand stroking her hair absently or sitting at lunch so that their knees are touching or brushing his elbow against hers as they walk together. Leaning, like now, against the locker next to hers with a lazy smile that makes her think about things more appropriate to a bedroom than a school corridor.

Other parts are a little more surreal, she admits to herself.

She smiles at him in return and he squeezes her hand, gives her one last quick kiss. "Time to give my history teacher a thrill. I'll see you at lunch," he says and she bites down on her bottom lip watching him as he walks away. She turns from her locker to go to her own class when she catches something from the corner of her eye and her stomach flips. Some jock (baseball? hockey? not football, anyway) is rapidly closing in with a slushie in hand. In a fraction of a second she tries to remember if she has extra clothes in her locker because oddly enough, it's been a while. Then she braces for the icy impact. Which never happens. Someone grabs her hips and whirls her out of the way. Mike. He does have nice moves! Brittany wraps a protective arm around her shoulders and glares at her attacker and Matt...Matt has him by the collar and is repeatedly shoving him up against the lockers. Violence is never the answer, so Rachel knows that she has to intervene. Eventually.

"Are you blind?" Matt hisses in an undertone. Bang! "Are you stupid?" Bang! "Do you have any idea who she is?" Bang! "Did you see what happened to Reynolds?" Bang! "Get the hell out of my sight before I decide to tell Puckerman!" With that, he shoves the boy down the hall and turns to Rachel with a concerned look.

Rachel is too shocked to say anything for a moment but finally manages to choke out, "thanks guys!" Mike and Matt smile and nod and meanwhile Brittany is fussing over her. "Look!" the tall blonde says, "He got a few drops on your blouse! Come with me." She grabs Rachel's hand and starts pulling her down the hall. "I've got a bleach pen in my locker!"

As Brittany rifles through her locker Rachel asks, "Brittany, what was Matt talking about? Didn't Scott Reynolds get hurt when he tripped in the parking lot?" Brittany turns to her with the bleach pen in hand. She's much too nice to say anything, but Rachel reads the expression on her face. Brittany thinks she's a little bit slow.

"Uhhmmm, Rachel. Did you not notice that that happened about three hours after Scott slushied you?" She beams at Rachel and continues as if it were obvious, "Puck beat him up for you!"

So wrong. But hot. No, wrong! "But...that was two weeks ago!"

"So?" asks Brittany.

"Well, I mean Noah and I...we weren't together..."

Brittany looks confused. "I'm not sure that makes a difference with you two." She hands the pen to Rachel and says "Here, you'd better get that stain out before it sets. I'll let your teacher know where you are."

Rachel walks to the bathroom in a daze. Noah has a protective side, she knows and if that jerk had slushied her today--well that would have been a huge mistake on his part, that's all. And she knows Noah likes her--he certainly likes to kiss her. But Brittany's words seem to hint at something different, something that doesn't depend on what the exact definition of their relationship is. Something more. Her thoughts fly back to last night, the remembered sensation of lying next to him on his bed. If books and movies and musicals are correct, people feel love in their hearts, but she feels this in her throat, like she has to sing. Love? She shakes her head as she pushed open the bathroom door. Maybe she's just reading too much in to this; he might have just felt like beating somebody up.

She hears Quinn's voice coming from the last stall as she enters. Eavesdropping is reprehensible, but for a moment she's frozen and then the tone of Quinn's voice, defiant but scared, makes her forget.

"Why are you calling me again?...I told you last week, I told you again last night, I've changed my mind!...What are you implying?...I don't care what Finn told you that day!...Well, how would you know?...Oh please, don't even pretend you have any real nursing experience!...I've got to go to class...No wait, please don't!...Now?...Yes...Fine!"

Rachel's shocked brain finally realizes that Quinn is on her cell. And judging from what Rachel has heard, she's in trouble.

Quinn steps out of the stall and her expression turns from anxious to flinty in a heartbeat. "What the fuck do you want, manhands?" she snarls.

Rachel pauses, thinking frantically. She is not part of the plan (the color-coded one). Actually, she had played a small role in the first three drafts, (the part where she imagined calling Quinn a heinous bitch was particularly satisfying) but as she thought it through, she had realized that no good purpose would be served by her involvement. Quinn is irritated by the fact that she breathes and the last thing Rachel wants to do is mess things up for Noah. She could just pretend she hadn't heard anything. Turn around and leave Quinn to her own devices.

But Quinn is scared. And in trouble. And Rachel doesn't turn her back on people in need.

She looks down at her feet. Softly, "You could trust him, you know."

Quinn's face crumples a little bit, but her voice is still hard. "Do you honestly think there's anything about Finn that you can tell me?"

"Not Finn, N...Puck." (No matter how sorry she feels for Quinn, Rachel won't give her 'Noah'.) "He's a good person and he cares about the baby. He could help you with this."

She pauses and the silence stretches out but Quinn doesn't say or word or give an inch. Rachel takes a trembling breath, the phone call, the atmosphere in this room...something is wrong. She's not entirely sure about this next part, but she takes a chance. "With Mrs. Schuester. I think you know you need his help. You...you just can't do what you did to him on Friday again."

Quinn's eyes soften, get that unfocused look like a newborn and for a second Rachel thinks that she could take just Quinn's hand and hold her while she cries and cries and cries and then all four (five) of them would figure something out. But the moment passes and Quinn stiffens and says flatly, "I don't know what you're talking about." She walks out.

For a minute Rachel sags against the sink, her heartbeat tattooing against her ribs. She tries to convince herself that she's overreacting. Kurt might say that she's just making drama out of nothing--Mercedes definitely would. This is just another example of Quinn being Quinn, she tells herself. She takes several deep, calming breaths. Then without even thinking about it, she flies out of the room.

Shit. Shit. Shit. History. Which one? Finding the right classroom, she smooths her skirt, plasters a fake smile on her face and knocks. The entire classroom is staring at her as she says sweetly, "Mr. Schuester sent me. He says he needs to see Puck immediately." A few students snicker, most likely the ones who have seen Noah with his tongue down her throat, but that can't be helped and Noah's glare effectively silences them. His teacher waves at the door and goes back to grading papers.

He barely waits until the door swings closed behind them. "Rach, what's wrong?" he asks, grabbing her hand.

She tells him what she heard, what she said and it's frustrating, because on the surface there's really not much to it. Or at least not enough to warrant lying to teachers and skipping classes (although this aspect probably worries him less). She doesn't even know for sure if the call was from Mrs. Schuester or what, if anything, Quinn was being threatened with and she doesn't think she can make him understand the intensity of it all without making it sound like the last act of Hamlet. He's quiet for so long, she worries. Could it have waited for lunch? Or worse, does he think she should she have turned around without a word and left Quinn in the bathroom?

Finally he nods sharply, pulls out his phone, flips through the contacts. "Straight to voice mail," he says. He pulls her to him, wraps his arms around her, kisses her hard. "I'm going to go look for her. Look Rachel, I need to...," but he stops and kisses her again. "Will you keep your cell on?" he says finally, a little breathlessly.

She hugs him back. "Call me if you need me." He turns and walks purposefully down the hallway and she gets ready to wait while her boyfriend goes to track down the woman carrying his baby.

Undoubtedly surreal. But sometimes that's life.