Do you though I was dead? I can't believe it's been almost 2 years since I last updated this! I almost forgot about it but lately I got so many messages here and on other sites asking me about this story that I looked for my old files and fixed them a little. It really amaze me that people still want to know about this story so... well, I'm gonna finish it. I'm going to be honest though. When I started this I had a more complex idea, a lot more carachters were involved and it was going to be something like a 30 chapter story. I won't go that far though. I choose a point where to stop it. There would have been so much to say and tell but it would take too much energy that I don't have right now. I will give it an end, though, out of respect and out of real gratitude for the people who messaged me. I hope it will be good enough :)


"Something's wrong." Quinn enounced with a serious voice and a critical look on the vegetables garden she was trying to grow with Rachel. "It was supposed to be green-ish by now."

"Don't say it like that!" Rachel scolded her.

"Like what?"

"Like you're a doctor pronouncing the time of death."

Quinn chuckled. "You're such a drama queen!"

"Hey!" The brunette protested. "I'm not the one sinking in depression right now. I'm keeping my positive thinking. They say plants can feel your mood and attitude, you know? So I'm thinking that it's your pessimism what is murdering them."

"Yeah, sure, my fault." She shook her head playfully. "But correct me if I'm wrong, aren't these things supposed to grow on their own? Like, in nature or something?"

They were staring puzzled at their first attempt of vegetable garden. It was something Rachel always wanted to do but she had to admit she needed a push to get her hands dirty on the ground. She was more of a theoretical ambientalist and DIY person, but she knew Quinn could use something that would make her consider this place her home too, not just Rachel's. Getting her hands dirty moving around furniture and actually working on something in the house would do the trick, or so Rachel thought. Hence the blue gloves and the "Gardening for dummies" book she had bought a couple of weeks before.

They were so focused on the task of understanding what was wrong (did someone poisoned the ground? did they buried the seed in too deep? did they wet the plants too much? or maybe not enough?) that neither of them heard Santana storming in their house.

The latina eyed Quinn's form from the corridor.

"Fabrary!" she called, and Quinn turned around. The light smile on her face faded immediately seeing the dark look on the Latina's face. "Kitchen, now!" she barked.

Great! So early in the morning and yet the day was already going on the wrong side.

Quinn followed the Latina "What the hell, San?"

Santana smashed a yellow letter on the table and tilted her head waiting for Quinn to take it and read it. The blonde woman shivered unconsciously. That letter was so similar to the once announcing another claim that, for a moment, she was forcefully brought back to her past.

"What is it?" she asked trying to remember that she was safe now, she was with Rachel and no one could try to claim her. Ever again.

"The result of your stunt at Raphael's party." Santana uncerimonialy plopped down one of the chairs.

Quinn took opened the envelope, her eyes quickly moved while reading the few rows in the letter and then carefully placing it on the table as if it was dangerous.

Santana sat leaning back on the chair, closely watching Quinn's reaction, seeing her eyes go unfocused as the full extent of that letter sank in.

"Have you ever heard of knocking Santana Lopez?" Rachel had joined them in the kitchen, taking off her blue gloves before taking in the dark expression of both the other women. "What is it?"

"Raphael has filed a request for punishment for Quinn." The latina answered, never taking her eyes off the Blonde. "Public whipping at his place and, here I quote from him, 'as public was the offence'."

"How much?" Rachel asked, in her most as a matter of factly voice.

"Not specified but, looking at precedents, I would say 20 lashes."

"Shit!" Rachel paled and sat down.

She let herself take a moment, her mind wondering on pictures of Raphael's grin growing wider, and the scared look she had seen on Quinn's face during the party, her words when they were back home together

'I would never, ever, let that man lay a finger on me again.'

"What can we do?" She asked Santana.

"Nothing. It was coming all along and we knew it. There was too much of a fuss for that scene: he was going to have his revenge, it was just a matter of time." Santana explained.

"Does it says when he wants it?"

"In a week from now."

"And you're sure..."

"Rachel!" Santana was getting annoyed.

This wasn't about her, this was all about Quinn and Rachel was just coming in the way with the wrong questions. Quinn knew this was due to come, and the real issue, was not how many lashes she would have to take, the real issue, here, was if she was going to be able to stay in the same room as Raphael, knowing he would have total power over her again. The real issue was if she could go through that without doing something like breaking up for good or just trying to assault him again, once and for all this time, trying to end his life.

"I knew it was coming, I'm not stupid." Quinn spoke softly "I touched him without consent and in front of plenty of witnesses so, it wasn't a question of if he was going to do it, just when he was going to do it. I just..." Her voice cracked. Despite the calm and controlled mask she immediately wore when she read Raphael's name on the letter, she was feeling like her stomach was melting in a lake of lava.

Rachel took her hand and squeezed it. She was going to say something stupid and an absolute lie such as 'It's going to be ok'when Quinn looked up at her.

"I don't want him to touch me." Quinn confessed. "Please, Rachel, don't let him touch me!"

It was the first time she heard that desperate undertone in Quinn's voice, fear transparent in the way her lower lip trembled as Quinn looked at her. She wanted to protect her, more than everything else, but what she could do?

"I don't know how, baby!" Guilt dripping from her voice. Rachel stared, broken, as she admitted that she failed Quinn the very first time she asked for her help. Was she that useless? She thought she could protect Quinn from everything, she thought she could shield her and be the steady shoulder Quinn could always lead on, but she lost on her first challenge.


Santana watched the whole scene play in front of her.

She knew it would have happened, eventually, and she came prepared. Not that her plan was perfect, actually, it involved so many possible fails and deadly turns that she was still hoping for another miraculous solution to pop out in front of them, but she also knew it was highly unlikely. Besides it would have been way better if those two came up with a solution on their own, because she didn't really want to propose her plan to them, knowing it would force them both to face something they were not ready for. But, let's face it, as much as Rachel's heart was in the right places, she didn't have the pluriannual experience she and Britt had on dealing with the shitty consequences of Quinn's actions. Chances the brunette thought about it on her own? Close to zero. And the same was about Quinn whose rational thinking, Santana knew it too well, freezed the exact same moment she read Raphael's name on the letter.

She put her elbows on the table, leaning forward, giving Fate a few more seconds to manifest a fabulous answer to all their problems, but when it didn't, she sighed.

"The law doesn't say the offended has to be the one to punish Quinn." She said softly, and the two other woman raised their eyes to her. "It says the offended can request the punishment in the form it might seem fitter, but there's not a reference about him or her being the one to actually carry it on."

"I thought it was... I mean, I've always known..."

"In this room I'm the only one with a law degree dwarf, so trust me on this!" Santana stopped her raising her hand, slightly disappointed that Rachel had always to say something, always doubting, always questioning.

"Then who should it be?" The brunette asked.

"You." Quinn looked at her. Her voice sounded strangely confident while she saw her only way out of this. "It should be you,"

Silence enveloped the three of them for a few moments: Rachel processed what she had just heard; Santana silently thanked Quinn for catching up quickly and not forcing her to say it out loud; and Quinn just waited, maybe not quite grasping the full implication of what she had just said.

"I can't do it Quinn!" Rachel broke the silence. She was looking down, like the floor had turned to be this incredible interesting object of wonders. "No way."

"It can't be him, I... just..."

Rachel took Quinn's hand between her own. "I wouldn't do that to you!" She protested.

Yes, of course, she was a domme, she had plenty of fun with the whip, but what Quinn was due to face was behind the limits she imposed herself. That was pure torture. Punishment. And she didn't want to be the one doing that to her.

"Please?" Quinn begged.

"This... Quinn... this..." There were rare occasions when Rachel Berry couldn't voice her own words, but the abnormity of what Quinn was asking her stole away all her vocabulary.

"Please." She begged again, and when Rachel looked in her eyes she saw she was on the verge of crying.

Rachel felt dizzy: everything was wrong. They just had a fight about submission and things, even if they were starting to go on the right way, were still far from ok. If there was a wrong moment in their life to even consider that possibility, that was it.

"I can stand the pain, but I can't stand the thought of him doing that to me. Please. Please. Please!" She repeated again as the first tear fell down her cheek.

Rachel couldn't hold it anymore, she pulled Quinn to her shoulder feeling as she broke down into sobs. Santana had quietly left the room sometime in between, probably, since they were now alone. Rachel was grateful for that, because never ever she would have wanted the Latina to see her own tears roll down.


Soap bubbles. Instrumental music. And stay in the bathtub until the water ran cold. That was her plan when she came back home and let her keys soundly drop on the entry cabinet. She throw her jacket on the couch, and took her shoes off.

That morning she had left Brittany still sound asleep in bed, but she was supposed to be at the store, glancing at the walls, trying to decide what color would be more fit for the ice-cream-backery-bookstore-karaokebar she was planning on running there. It was the forth job Britt changed in less than 10 years and Santana had the feeling it wouldn't be the last one. That girl couldn't stay put in any way, she constantly needed new inputs and challenges and that was one of the things she both loved and loathed of her. It was hard to keep up with that level of energy.

"Hey."

As if her thoughts had summoned her, Brittany's voice called her.

"Hey yourself." She smiled weary. "I thought you would be at the store."

The blonde woman was half lying on the kitchen table, arms spread out and her cheek resting on the wood surface. "It's Saturday."

"I know, but you haven't opened yet so you can't start calling the days off."

Britt looked at her blankly, raising her head from the table. "It's Saturday, San." She repeated, like it was a self explanatory phrase.

Santana looked back at her confused and then she realized. She called the talking truce until Saturday, and now it was Saturday. The truce was over. Time to talk.

She sighed.

"I was planning on taking a bath." It wasn't an excuse, she already planned that and she could use some time with her own thoughts after the news she had just delivered to both Quinn and Rachel. The fact that it would have give her a few more hours before facing Britt's claiming issue was just one more convenience to it.

The other woman didn't answer, she just stared back, silently, and after a few moments Santana gave up.

"Fine." She grunted sitting down.

Despite the fact that Santana was a lawyer (or maybe because of that) she didn't cope well with rules or laws. Her approach had always been 'find a way around it'. She wasn't supposed to sneak out of her room while she was still in school, but she did; she wasn't supposed to see Brittany on their two years apart after they had been sorted, but she did; she wasn't supposed to get reserved info from the Central Department on her cases but, sometimes, she did. She had learned to bend the rules to her own will in every scenario but one: when she and Britt laid out their own.

"Can you tell me why you were so upset San?" Brittany asked crossing her arms on the table. She gazed at her girlfriend sitting opposite from her, arms down by her sides. She knew that posture well, it was the calm before the storm, the moment Santana used to gather her energies together. As predicted, Britt felt it. It was like a wave of heat, a wind crossing the room and concentrating around Santana as her thoughts changed color from a pale gray to a dark brown.

"That depends." When Santana spoke her voice was frightening calm.

"On what?"

"On what you tell me."

Britt shook her head. "Don't do your lawyer tricks on me San. You know the rules, you called the truce, and now you have to talk." She told her letting a hint of disappointment transpire in her voice.

"No tricks." Santana kept her tone low and steady and Britt saw the color of her thoughts turn to a more opaque and dark color. "Do you have anything, anything at all to tell me Britt?"

The blonde tilted her head surprised by the turn in their conversation, but thought about it, trying to remember if she did forget to tell her something. "No, I don't think so." She said after a moment.

"Are you sure?" Santana couldn't hide the mocking in her voice.

"Santana, stop. If you want to know something just ask it, for God's sake." It was a rare occurrence for Britt to lose her temper, but in that moment she felt like she was going to.

Santana ticked her tongue. "You had claimings."

Britt flinched. She tried to hide it but Santana noticed it anyway. "You know about my claimings San." She answered in a calm tone.

"About all of them?" The Latina asked and when Britt didn't answer right away she insisted. "How many did you have Britt?"

"Why are you asking me this if you already know the answer?"

"Because I want to hear it from you."

There was no point in lying. Not that she ever lied to Santana, anyway, she had just been selective about what truth tell her.

"Three." She admitted.

Santana gave her a sad smirk. "And you didn't think that having a claim while we were together was something you should have mentioned to me?"

"Are you mad?" She deflected the question turning it around on Santana.

"Yes." The Latina paused. Except that she couldn't really be mad at Britt because it was her fault too. She had it slipped under her nose, she didn't even paid enough attention to see that such a huge thing was going on in her life. "No." She retracted. It wasn't anger, or at least not only anger. It was the betrayal of her trust that stung more than everything else. "Yes." She changed again, more persuaded than the first time. "Yes, I am mad. And disappointed. And sad. And scared too!"

Brittany reached for her hand but Santana flinched away. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to, but you were so worried about Quinn and after the claim I had already promised not to tell."

Santana frowned. "Promised to whom?"

Brittany sighed heavily and put a strain behind her ear. "You're right." She admitted. "I should have told you, and I'm gonna tell you about it now, but before you have to make the same promise I made."

"What promise?"

"That what I am going to tell you will never leave this room."


She fidgeted nervously in front of the door.

'Come on Britt, it's just a stupid claiming.' She told herself'Just ring the bell. The sooner it starts the sooner it ends.'

A week before that moment a Central Direction Officer came by her house to deliver a yellow envelope with her schedule for a claiming. She had been so surprised by it that she stood on the door long after the man in the dark green uniform was gone.

Up until that moment it never occurred to her that she might be claimed by someone different than Santana, especially after her girlfriend put on one of her stunts, a few years back, making it worldwide clear that the two of them were together, whatever it was official or not. She had always thought it was enough to keep her safe because no one, in their right mind, would challenge Santana Lopez. But maybe this Will Shuster wasn't in his right mind.

She sighed and pressed the bell, hearing the steps approaching to the door a few moments after.

"Hi. You must be Brittany. Please, come on in." The man stepped aside to let her in. He was a nice looking guy, with short curly hair and a big smile on his face. He dressed casually with a plaid shirt and a pair of jeans. He seemed fine, maybe a little too jumpy, like in literally jumpy, unable to stay still for more than a fraction of second.

Britt took a tentative step inside. She was nervous. It had been a long time since her last claiming and she couldn't help but think of everything Quinn had to face, how the dominants had exploited her fears, and all the ways they hurt her. Was this her time to face it? Was he going to hurt her?

She looked around the small apartment or, at least, the part that she could see. There weren't chains or whips on the walls.'Not an hard core Master'she thought before looking for more subtle signs of his dominant nature. No D rings on the walls or the ceiling and no corners left empty for a slave to kneel.'It doesn't mean anything' She reminded herself, but she couldn't help but feel a little relieved by the apartment's appearance.

"Please, Brittany, have a sit." He gestured her to the kitchen smiling. His thoughts were a bright orange color with flickering red strains.

"Thank you Sir."

"I don't like formalities, please, call me Will."

"Yes... Will."

He nodded. "Can I get you something? Water? Coffee? Tea?"

"Umh, no, thank you si.. Will." She corrected herself.

A cough announced the presence of another human being in the room. Britt turned around to see a red haired woman exiting from the bathroom smoothing her dress. She hurriedly headed toward her, extending her arm.

"Brittany right?" She didn't pause enough to let her reply. "My name is Emma Pilsbury, I'm the Central Direction Officer assigned to this claim. Sorry I wasn't here to welcome you. I had to finish wash up my hands." The woman sat casually next to her giving a longing look to the coffee machine. WIll intercepted her gaze.

"May I offer you a coffee Em?"

"Yes, thank you Will, that would be nice. I was so busy this morning I didn't have time to drink it."The man nodded sympathetically "Someone had hid the trash bin near my garden and I had to clean the place. I don't even want to imagine what kind of animals or, God forbids, germs, that open trash bin might have attracted before I fix it."

Britt sat looking at the two of them, seeing how Will's orange thoughts faded into white vapors melting with her light blue ones.

"Do you want some coffee too Britt?" The woman asked smiling.

Britt shook her head and, simultaneously Will frowned placing a hot cup in front of the woman. "I'm not such a terrible host Em, I already asked her."

The woman raised her hands apologetically. "Sorry." She murmured sipping her coffee.

He shook his head but he was smiling."Please forgive us, Brittany. Emma is not only the Central Direction officer assigned to your claim. She's been a friend of mine for a long time and she basically considers this as her second home."

The woman nodded looking at Britt while blowing on the cup.

The blonde girl smiled back feeling more and more relaxed every moment. Granted, that was one of the most unusual claiming she had ever heard of.

"I know that this, that we," he said lowering his tone, "might look a little off or, better, totally weird, but I want to assure you, we're good people. Kind of awesome actually." He smiled trying to light up the mood.

"It's ok sir."

"Will." He corrected her.

"Will." She repeated.

"I know you must be a little on edge, you didn't have a claim for quite some time so I just want to assure you. We're just going to talk today, ok?"

Britt couldn't help but look at him perplexed. Dominants don't ask for a claim to talk, they could just ask you out for a date if they want to get to know you. If they file the papers for a formal claim it's because they want something more, they want that kind of power that is granted to them over a submissive in those occasions.

"You're scaring her." Giving Will a reprimendal look.

"I just told her she doesn't need to be scared."

"And by doing so you scared her." Emma said again reinforcing her thesis tilting her head toward a confused Brittany."I'm sorry." She turned to the blonde. "He believes he knows how to talk to people but, really, he doesn't. He means well, though, and he's not going to hurt you in any way."

"I..." Brittany licked her lips. Weirdest. Claim. Ever. "It's ok."

"So, Brittany." He smiled his best smile at her. "Can I ask you why haven't you been claimed up until now? You're obviously a beautiful woman and..."

"Will!" Emma scolded him.

"What?" He looked at her bewildered.

She shook her head lowering her voice "Like I said, he believes he's good at this."

He raised his hands "Do you want me to dance around the subject for hours?"

"It would be more polite."

"I'm not unpolite. I'm practical."

"Can't you be both? Polite and practical, I mean."

Brittany looked at the waves of their thoughts interlacing in the air, his orange thoughts smashing against her cold blue ones, while, one the opposite sides blu waves insinuated among his thoughts turning the orange flames into light green ones.

"Are you two together?" Britt questioned. "Because you sound an awful lot like me and San when we're arguing but not really arguing, you know?"

For a moment their thoughts froze and then they both turned to a white so bright as Will and Emma looked away embarrassed.

"We're just friends." Emma stated taking her cup and sipping from it in a forceful gesture to regain some composure, and Brittany couldn't tell if she had said it for her benefit or if the red head was just trying to convince herself.

She smiled and relaxed a bit more on her chair. She wasn't sure why but she wasn't scared anymore. Curious, bewildered, a little astonished, yes, but not scared. Will and Emma wouldn't hurt her. Strange as they can be.

"It's complicated." The blonde said after a moment of embarassed silent. "The reason why I'm not claimed I mean. It's complicated."

"But you do have someone?" Will asked and seeing a smile spread wide across the blonde's face.

"Oh yes. I have Santana."

"And Santana is your..." He dragged the vocals, hoping Brittany would fill in the blanks, but the woman didn't he went on "...Mistress?"

"I hope she will be, yes. As of now she's just my dominant. I haven't be claimed, remember?"

Will exchanged a look with Emma and Brittany noticed that both their thoughts had turned into yellowish pointy shapes with dark brown strains.

"What?" It was her turn to ask.

"Nothing, I just..." Will fumbled trying to cover his surprise with a logic explanation. "It's unexpected. Have the two of you been together for a long time?"

Brittany chuckled. "Forever. We've know each other since school."

"But then," Emma jumped into the conversation, "why aren't you two official?"

"Like I said, it's complicated. There are more people involved then the two of us."

Will sit down, leaning slightly on the table. "Well, that made me curious! Please, tell us."

And Brittany did told them, in her casual tone, like she always did when someone asked about her, because she didn't have any sense of privacy when it came to her life, because she didn't think that what happened to her was something to hide in shame, because she was grateful and proud of every single moment and decision they took along the way and because she never saw the dangers and perils of opening her heart to a couple of complete strangers.

Somewhere, within her mind, Santana's face popped into her mind when she started telling her story, (hers, and Santana's and Quinn's too). She had her characteristic frown, eyebrows slightly raised and that look that always scared the hell out of everyone but her. And maybe Quinn. Brittany shooked the image away. The Latina always told her that she trusted people too much but she didn't. Her girlfriend sometimes forgot that her superpowers let her see the other's thought and could warn her if something or someone was going to happen. She just knew in advance, she could read everyone's intentions and knew, by instinct, if she could trust them or not. And she could trust Will and Emma.

She finished her story and looked up at Will. "I will accept that glass of water now, please."

He nodded absently. He was still trying to wrap his mind around what the woman had just told them and one name, more than anything, kept on bouncing between his thoughts. Quinn Fabray. The untamed Painslut. Did they really cross path with the one and only Quinn Fabray?

He took a bottle of water and placed it on the table, shooting a side glance to Emma. The red headed woman seemed concerned just like he was. Unfortunately their gazes weren't so subtle as they wished and, even if Brittany didn't have her superpowers, she still would have noticed the looks they were exchanging.

"I'm not sure what you're hiding here." She said all of a sudden, surprising both Will and Emma, "but I can see that there is something going on so... why don't you just spill it out?"

Will smiled. "You're quite unique Brittany Pierce, you know that?"

"I get that a lot, yes." She replied without false modesty.

He looked at Emma and Brittany saw them having a silent conversation as they decided if they would really explain everything to her.

"We thought you were someone different." Emma finally said after a while.

"How so? You had my file, you knew I was Brittany Pierce."

"No, not that way. We thought..." Will bit his lip looking for the right words to say but ending up with a different topic instead. "Have you heard of the rebel revolution Britt?"

The blonde woman tensed straightening her posture. "Yes?" It came out more like a question than an answer.

"And what do you know about them?"

"That they are outlaws?" Again, the questioning tone. She felt a little like when she was in school and her teachers questioned her for a test. She knew the answers, she just wasn't sure if that was what the teacher wanted to hear from her.

But then it hit her, as Will and Emma thoughts changed into a light pink with dark blue strains.

"You're rebels!" She almost shouted making Emma jump on her seat and Will lean on the table trying to cover her mouth.

She jumped back on her feet, avoiding Will's hands, and took a few steps back.

"Now, please, Britt," will talked to her keeping his hands up "lower your voice, you misunderstood we're no..."

But she didn't let him finish as a weird smile appeared on her face he jumped on him throwing her hands around his neck, hugging him.

"I knew it! I knew it!" She said jumping on her feet.


"Come again? You were contacted by rebels?"

"Shhh, lower your voice San!"

"Why? Is not like they're gonna arrest us while we're in our house. This place isn't bugged or anything! Right?" But Brittany didn't look convinced and sighing in frustration Santana lowered her tone. "I'm still not sure here of what happened. I highly doubt that some outlaws with the entire Central Direction on their tails could simply just spill their plans to you."

"They didn't spill they plans." Brittnay remarked, disappointed by her girlfriend reaction. That was not at all what she expected from Santana, she should have been excited, exactly like she was when she realized what was going on. "They were trying to recruit me."

"That doesn't help making them look less of some loser morons." The Latina sighed and got up, frustrated. "Seriously B, why would they risk their lives just like that? Honestly, if this is their combat level, I'm quite surprised they're not all rotting in the Central Directions cells by now."

"You're being mean."

"No, I'm being realistic here." She scoffed her pointing an accusing finger to Brittany. "Have you thought this might have been some plan to look for possible rebels's allays within the population? What if they were trying to frame you? Have you thought of that?"

"I saw their thoughts, they were smooth and bright. They were not lying."

"For God's sake Britt!" The Latina kicked the couch out of frustration.

Santana Lopez believed Brittany was special and yes, she might even had some real superpowers, like she always told her. But it was one thing to indulge in those thoughts when everything was safe, another thing was to relay on them when it was a matter of life or death.

"They thought I wasn't claimed because I was in love with another slave." She was still on the other side of the table, knowing to well that Santana needed a physical outlet and getting closer to her, trying to calm her down, would just make her bottle her feelings and made them all the more dangerous . "They saw I didn't have a claim for a long time and they thought I had a relationship with someone. They weren't wrong, if you think about it. They just mistake the nature of the person I was in love with: not a slave but a regular dominant" She half smiled, managing to burn half of Santana's rage with that simple gesture of affection toward her.

The other woman slowly sat back down at the table. Lots of horrible thoughts and possibilities still running through her head. Were they doomed? Maybe they were watched by some secret Central Direction service, and maybe officers would burst in their house any moment now, and arrest them for conspiring with the rebels.

"Fuck!"

"We're ok, San." Brittany reached for her through the table taking her hands. "Everything is fine."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do. If they were officers posing like rebels, which they are not, wouldn't I already be arrested by now?"

It had been more than six months before, and Britt had a point. It was unlikely that the Central Direction would let loose a suspected rebel for so long.

"You should have told me."

"I promised not to tell anybody about them, and you made the same promise to me. This story won't leave our house."

"But you told them about Quinn. What if she is not safe anymore? We have to tell her. And Rachel too. They have to be on the look out for anything weird. Undercover officers. Strangers passing by their house..."

"San..."

"...we should get them a surveillance system. I can call a friend. They should know, they..."

"San!" This time Britt's voice was stronger and breached through her rambles getting her attention. "Yes, I told them about Quinn, and yes, they were interested in her. They thought she would be a great addition to their cause. They think if she joins them other slaves might find the courage to do so. She's a known face, after all, although I believe that they have now found another poster boy with Sam I'm pretty sure they still would welcome her with open arms." Brittany released her grip on Santana's hands and sat back in the chair. "It was a good opportunity back then. We were running out of options with her and if Rachel hadn't shown up like she did I would probably had talked to you and we would have used the rebels to get Quinn out of the system."

"But then Rachel showed up in her shiny armor." Santana continued.

"No, you showed up in your shining armor." Britt sighed and her mind drifted back to those days. Quinn had been declared 'not public property' anymore, and she had been dragged away, out of reach.

Back then, desperate as she was, Britt had tried and succeed into contacting the rebels. Their resources, though, weren't enough to reach Quinn in her new state. They didn't have men or women so deep within the Central Direction hierarchy to get to her, and they didn't have enough intels to get the operation done.

"And these are the so called rebels?" Santana frowned in disbelief. How could those people be leading a revolution?

Brittany shook her head amused. Santana tended to forget how amazing her skills were, and how incredibly resourceful she could be when she really wanted something. She still wasn't sure how her girlfriend got to see Quinn while she was detained in the Central Direction Facility, and she didn't know how Rachel had managed to get a claim for Quinn and then close the deal breaking down the lasts of her walls, but it was a fact that the two of them succeed where a rebel movement didn't even dare to try.

"Fucking losers!" The Latina mumbled solicitating a small smile in her girlfriend, but that moment soon faded away and Santana's perplexed expression turned into a frown as the image of the yellow envelope she had just brought to Quinn came to her mind. Yes, Quinn had been claimed, yes, she was now living with someone who cared about her and loved her more than anything, but she was still getting into troubles and, more than anything, she was still a slave, something she was never meant to be.

"We should still tell Rachel and Quinn." She said after a while.

"They have each other now, and Quinn is in no danger anymore."

Santana bit her lip. Britt didn't know about the Raphael mess and neither she knew about the punishment Quinn was due to face soon.

"It's not our call to make." Santana said quietly, closing her eyes. "Quinn should be the one to decide." Sensing that Brittany was to protest she raised her hand stopping her. "I will check those supposed rebels and I will make sure it' not a trap, but if they check out ok we're going to talk to both of them."

"It's a mistake San. You know it will make Quinn question everything all over again, even if she could be happy with Rachel."

"This is no up for a debate. It's final, and I'm pretty sure that if you think about it for a while you will agree with me."

"I'm pretty sure that I won't." Britt talked back. "You've been protecting her your whole life San, why would you stop doing it right now?"

"Protecting her is one thing, but you know damn well she never even took into consideration our suggestion, let alone let us take some decision for her. Quite frankly, I believe she would kill us if she just thinks we manipulated her into something, even if that something is a relationship with Rachel."

Brittany thought about it. Yes, she could imagine Quinn exploding rage on the two of them, still she would face her anger and anything that might come with it if it meant she could give her friend the chance to be happy.

"No." Santana seemed to have read her thoughts. "Don't even think about it. Decision is final. You will have a few days to think what to tell Quinn while I check them out, but that's all you get."

A weird moment of silence fell between them. Britt could see Santana's thoughts twirling around in gray vortex and she knew there was too much going on in her lover's head, right now: Quinn, the rebels, and also the two of them.

She walked to her and crouched down next to her legs, taking her hands and kissing her knuckles gently.

"Don't. I'm still mad at you."

"I know." She kissed them again.

"I'm serious B!" She tried to take away her hands but her attempt was weak and the blonde could hold on to her easily.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I am even more sorry because I didn't insist to talk to you when I saw you were upset a few days back." She caressed the back of Santana's hands with her thumb. "I know you must have thought a lot of crazy stuff in these days." She saw her girlfriend's thoughts turn immediately into a bright red as the memory of jealousy took over.

"Stop." Santana didn't want to hear her excuses, she wanted to be angry and she was desperately trying to hold on to that feeling. If she allowed herself to be relieved that Britt's claim was nothing like she feared, than all her worries and anger during the previous days would have been stupid childish fears. It would mean she almost lost it over nothing. Over a stupid chit chat. Over those hideous fucking rebels.

Brittany leaned on her kissing her cheek. Santana got away.

"I said don't!" The Latina needed that anger. If she let that feeling quietly extinguish she was left with just the realization of how much she needed Brittany. The mere thought of losing her girlfriend had paralyzed Santana in the previous days, she couldn't let herself be that weak, that a single person could turn her world upside down and shatter all her self confidence and pride.

Brittany followed her.

"Step away!" Santana hissed with a commanding voice but Brittany ignored her. "I said, step..."

"I'm not backing away," Britt said calmly "I did it a few days back and it was a mistake. Now I just want you to listen to me." She put a hand behind Santana's neck and, pulling her head down on her shoulder. She kept on talking, whispering into the Latina's ear, quietly stroking her hair as Santana stood without returning the hug, arms limp by her sides. "I love you and I'll always be yours and yours only. No one can claim me because my soul already belongs to you from the beginning of time."

There was a brief moment of stillness and then she felt Santana lips move on her shoulder as she spoke. "That is the most sappy crap I've ever heard in my life."

Britt chuckled. "Probably, yes." She cupped her face rising her head before leaning down to kiss her. A chaste, closet mouth kiss.

"I felt like shit."

"I love you." Again she kissed the corner of her lips.

"I thought I lost you."

This time she captured her upper lip between her own, letting her thumbs brush lightly over her lover's skin. "I love you." She repeated resting her forehead against Santana's.

"Don't do this to me again." She asked.

"I'll try not to." Santana's eyebrow raised questioningly and Brittany smiled in response. "I love you?" She said in a more playful tone now that most of the tension had left her girlfriend features

"We still have to sort a few things out B." Her voice was weak, drained of all that will and determination that filled it just a few moments before. Brittany could have that effect on her, she could make worries and fears disappear with a touch. Another superpower of hers.

The blonde woman was tangling her dark hair. She could see her girlfriend thoughts had turned into a light pink that faded into white evanishing smokes shapes "Can we do it tomorrow?"

Santana knew she was in no condition, in that moment, to take any rational decision about anything at all, less than anything about the consequences of Britt omitting the truth to her.

"Yes, tomorrow." She agreed, and kissed Brittany again.


That night Rachel and Quinn went to bed without further talking about it. Rachel had been unusually silent throughout the whole day, her mind racing between crazy plans and a dull resignation.

She had spent the night looking at the ceiling, trying to impose herself to sleep but to no avail.

At 5 in the morning she got up, exhausted and nervous. She went downstairs in the kitchen to make some coffee but a hand stopped her.

"Tea is probably a wiser choice right now." Quinn smiled at her. She was wearing a white tank top and pink pants she used as pj.

"What are you doing up? It's early."

"I heard you and I thought to keep you company."

Rachel closed her eyes for a brief moment: it was nice to have someone to take care of you sometimes. She sat at the table and watched as Quinn walked around the kitchen to gather the pan and the teabags. She could feel a massive headache approaching after her sleepless night and she knew she had to address the topic that was bothering her before the pain started.

"Can you please sit Quinn? I have to talk to you."

The other woman turned on the gas and went sitting next to her.

"I thought about it" Rachel started "about what you asked me to do." The thought of Quinn's punishment passed through their minds but neither of them voiced the actual word. "I understand why you asked me but I'm concerned."

Quinn frowned. She had a feeling she would not like where this was going but she kept silent.

"I'm afraid this will strain us as a couple. What I will have to do..."

"I trust you!" Quinn interrupted her, soliciting a sad smile from Rachel.

"You trust me" she repeated, feeling that there was a truth behind those words "but you don't trust your mistress, and that's the point Quinn."

Quinn's eyes widened. She was the one who brought up first the difference she felt and how it was hard, for her, to reconcile the idea of her lover, Rachel, and her owner, the Mistress. Rationally she knew they were one and the same but her feelings kept telling her differently. She loved Rachel but she feared the kind of control a domme could have on her.

"It won't be Rachel out there with you" Rachel explained calmly "it will be your Mistress, and I can't have the first real interaction between the two of you to be like that." She paused a moment steeling herself for the request she was going to make. "The way I see it there's only one thing we can do to make it through that night, and that is if you start trusting me as your owner."

Quinn's breathing had almost stopped and Rachel knew the other woman was clearly seeing where she was going.

"We need to give ourselves time to be Mistress and slave if we want to..."

"You want me to submit!" The water started boiling and some of it went out the pan causing an hissing sound on the gas. "You want me to act, no, to be your slave."

Rachel didn't take her eyes off Quinn and she answered without as much as a hint of hesitation, not even the smallest doubt. "Yes, I do believe this is the only way."

Quinn retracted her hands in her lap. The exact moment Rachel pronounced those words something in her broke.

Quinn got up to turn off the gas and put the teabags in the pan. She was giving her back to Rachel, her body still and rigid. Rachel could almost see all the thoughts running in her head, bouncing and crashing on each other as she tried to make sense of things and find a way out. But there wasn't a way out, Rachel knew it, because she had spent the whole night frantically looking for it.

"It was due to happen, right?" Quinn turned around and Rachel's heart missed a beat when she saw her expression, the emptiness of the impeccable relaxed masked she wore, like if she couldn't care less, like if they were talking about what to to have for dinner. There was a ghostly smile on her face, the kind that curves your lips up without reaching your eyes, the one that sends chills through your spine when you see it because you know it means everything but a smile.

Rachel had to suffocate the instinct to take it all back. This wasn't the way she imagined to take Quinn into real submission, these weren't the times she planned on acting on. But, one way or the other, it was settled, and she knew there was no turning back. It was her job to do it the right way.

She leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her mouth.

"Just remember that I love you." She whispered in Quinn's ear before extending her arm and inviting the blonde to follow her to the lounge.