A/N: Okay, So I have been MIA for a couple weeks. I hit a road block in where I wanted to go from here. I'm not entirely thrilled with this chapter. But I know where I want to go from here, so that's the bright side. This is short and mostly just a filler to move us on to the next part, but regardless, here it is. I'm back now with hopefully more frequent updates. I would love some feedback and even some suggestions on where you guys want to see this go. Can't hurt to take some things into consideration, could it?

Sidenote: I am not a fan of this season of Glee completely forgetting the fact that Quinn ever existed. As Santana would say, no me gusta.


3 months later…

Rachel stood in line patiently waiting, well as patiently as an up-and-coming diva can wait, watching as people zoomed in and out of the busy little coffee shop in Soho.

She had stumbled upon the place one night a few weeks ago when she was coming back from a street fair with Kurt and she absolutely fell in love with it. Something about it was artistic, and poetic, and so simply New York, and it reminded her of somebody she wasn't allowing herself to outwardly think about. Not anymore. Something about the place was warm and inviting and she found herself coming back time and time again.

It had been three months since she began to get her life back on track, put herself back together. And she even had to admit to herself, it had been easier than she had originally anticipated.

She had been going on more auditions, thanks to Kurt, who was now known to leave newspaper clippings and Craigslist print-outs advertising small parts in various plays and musicals around the city. Despite her initial response of brushing them off, she found herself putting herself out more. She had no success as of late, but her confidence boosted a little more with each polite rejection.

It was a start.

As was her budding relationship with Angela.

They gradually moved from coffee dates, to dinner dates, to theatre dates, to sleepovers. They were taking it slow, to Rachel's relief, and they still hadn't classified their relationship, but Rachel knew the redheaded girl wasn't seeing anybody else, and neither was she.

The brunette knew Angela was anxious to label their relationship, but lingering demons kept Rachel from taking that step. She didn't feel she was still hung up on, well, her, but jumping right into a relationship after they had…she wouldn't call it broken up because that would mean they were together to begin with… but either way, starting something new and official so soon just didn't feel right.

Kurt had been pushing her towards the blue-eyed beauty. Encouraging her to take the plunge and officially move on. 'It's been months' he would say, 'she's getting married' he would remind her, 'follow your heart' he tried. Although the latter was only said once after they both realized following her heart is what got it broken to begin with.

Angela was a great girl, Rachel reminded herself constantly. She was a sweet southern belle with a great family, a solid career as a kindergarten teacher, and great moral values. She was essentially the polar opposite of, well, her.

Stop comparing them! It was a common sentence repeated by her psyche. It never hurt to be reminded.

She was over her.

She was.

She barely ever, only sometimes, but mostly not usually, thought of her. It was only when the wind blew in a way where she could smell the morning dew in central park, a subtle scent she associated with the blonde's apartment, and she usually didn't walk through there early in the morning on purpose. She was only reminded of the sweet bravado of that melodic voice when she listened to Frank Sinatra, a paradox she still didn't fully understand, and she only listened to him on Sunday mornings. She only dreamed about her once or twice a week, waking up with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat, and even that had dwindled down to be less and less frequent.

She was getting over her better than she thought. She should pat herself on the back.

Screw Kurt for saying she was still in denial.

Every time she felt those memories of skilled hands traveling down the length of her back and a raspy voice echoing in her ear, she quickly replaced it with thoughts of the sweet redhead instead. Thoughts of her charming smile and her calm southern drawl. The way she was always so thoughtful and cleaned the kitchen after she made dinner and knew Rachel liked white wine versus red. She reminded herself of how Angela was supportive and caring and really, really nice. She was. Like, really nice. And it worked sometimes…

And when it didn't… she walked across town and drank coffee.

Alright, so her apartment in Chelsea was absolutely inconveniently located from both Central Park and Soho. And sure, there were places she could sit and read books she didn't and couldn't comprehend closer to where she lived, and sure there were probably places to drink coffee in her own neighborhood. But sometimes it was nice to get out.

It's not her fault the coffee shop was located two blocks from her apartment. It was simple coincidence.

And coincidence was something Rachel rarely questioned.

"Ma'am?" A small voice belonging to the coffee barista who couldn't have been older than 17 broke through her thoughts, alerting Rachel to the fact that she was next in line.

"Oh, hi. My apologies. I'll have a large Café Grande with soy and two pumps of vanilla." She shot a smile at the young girl and searched her purse for her wallet, "one second, I know it's in here… I just…" Her mumbling cut off by an arm reaching around her and handing their card to the waiting barista.

"Make sure it's not too hot, yeah? This ones vocal cords can't afford to be burned. Her voice is too beautiful. And I'll take the same as her."

Rachel froze. A sting of familiarity and want traveled from her ears to her toes under the scratchy voice she could point out anywhere. She hadn't heard that voice in – she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was fine. She was fine. She just really needed a second to turn around since her body suddenly became paralyzed. Dammit.

"Quinn?" Rachel breathed out. Begging a question that never needed confirmation.

The aforementioned girl chuckled. "Rachel." She repeated in a mock tone, but lacking any malice.

Something about the way her name falls from perfect lips has her intake a sharp breath of air. She can imagine what soft pink lips look like as they form the word, so delicate and bleak. She swears sometimes she can feel them on hers. And the thought makes her feel pathetic as reality punches her in the gut.

"What are you doing here?" the dreamscape has left her and spins around on her heals to come face to face with the source of many sleepless nights and bitter fantasies.

"Oh, you're welcome for the coffee." The blonde rolls her eyes and takes a step back out of the brunette's space, clearly taken back by the bitterness in the other girls tone. "And I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing in SoHo?"

Two coffees are dropped in front of them and Rachel offers a small smile to the young girl who's head ping-ponged between the two girls. No doubt trying to figure out the dicotimy of their relationship. She slips a dollar bill into the tip jar and slid by the taller girl to the sugar counter.

Deep breaths, Rachel thought to herself. It's just Quinn. Quinn who was her, sort of, friend once. Quinn who was another inhabitant of a great big city. Quinn who hid her feelings so very well. Quinn who would one day be a Hudson. Quinn who smelled so heavenly. Quinn who knew how to use her tongue in such a way that it made every once of her small lithe body –.

It was just Quinn.

"Let me guess. It's on your paper route?" The sarcasm in the blonde's husky voice didn't go unnoticed as she approached Rachel from behind. And at that moment Rachel made a mental note to never turn her back on Quinn, the chills the girl sent down her spine were beginning to become painful.

"Something like that." Rachel retorted with a despondence in her voice and she watched the sugar melt into the bottom of her cup before stirring it carefully.

Quinn walked around to her side and leaned over shakey tan arms. Skin brushed and the brunette flinched on contact.

"Sorry." Quinn offered a shy smile. "Sugar." She held up the shaker and cocked her head to the side.

They stood in awkward silence while the blonde carefully measured out incriments of sweet grains and Rachel used every ounce of concentration to focus on not spilling her drink and not at all on the way her skin was still burning from Quinn's proximity.

"Sit and catch up?" The taller girl broke the silence with a gesture to an open table.

Rachel wanted nothing more than to say yes. To sit and forget about the past couple months and beg and plead with her emotional psyche to allow her that luxury. She wanted things to go back to how they were before, because despite how difficult they had seemed, she still could trick herself into believing she owned some part of Quinn's heart. And she missed that feeling. She was fine, she had convinced herself of that numerous times. But one glance at the girl in front of her and she suddenly couldn't remember why she strived for fine to begin with. It could be that easy right? Things didn't have to only be fine. They weren't really that bad before, were they? But as she glanced down at the cup the blonde held with a strange hold, she noticed the silver band that determined everything she had done was for all for one reason.

"No." She coughed out the strangle in her voice. "No. I can't."

"Rachel…" Quinn began with a sighing frustration.

"I really can't Quinn."

"It's just coffee."

Rachel's gaze fell to the ground and shook her head. "No. It's not."

The uncomfortable silence arose between the two again as neither wanted to leave and neither knew what to say.

"Look, I –"

"I really need –"

They both began at the same time and followed with a chuckle at the expense of their own awkwardness.

"Go ahead." Rachel said with a smile.

"I just wanted to say you look good. Like, you look, I don't know, bright." The tall blonde gave a shy smile and a shoulder shrug. The gesture partnered with the compliment made tan cheeks blush.

"Thanks." Came her shy response.

Pale skin washed over in pink and Quinn shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'no problem' before Rachel suddenly remembered what she was planning on saying.

"I really have to run. I have an audition for an off-off Broadway troupe in 20 minutes and being late is absolutely unacceptable, as you know, so I really must go before I make myself look like an absolute –"

"Hey Rach," the nickname sent a warmth through her body, "you'll be great."

And for the first time in a long time, Rachel thought she might have somebody to believe.


R&R por favor.

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