A/N: Hey, everyone. I'm sorry this came a little later than expected. I'm trying my best to get a lot of writing done, but I got an opportunity for a little bit of an impromptu vacation, and where I'm staying has very, very limited internet access. Actually, I'm pretty much using my phone as a wireless hotspot, and that's not always ironclad. However, I am trying to get a lot of writing done, so even if I can't post everything rapidly, when I get back to the real world, there should be quite a bit of rapid updating on both of my stories. Until then, I hope this tides you over and is an enjoyable read. Thank you SO, SO much for all your support, reviews, and comments. I always love reading what you think. So, please - let me know.

I was starting to realize that one of the hardest things about being human was saying goodbye. Even though I was not a human, at least not technically, I was still expected to abide by the rules and laws that made their society work. I wanted to fit in; I craved normalcy, deep down, even though I knew finding it and making it a possibility would be a constant struggle.

Struggle. This was something I was becoming very, very familiar with. I struggled with the truths as I had been given them. I struggled holding onto the knowledge of who and what I was, since I had been given some answers by Marcus, who was still very much a mystery to me. I struggled with keeping these truths from Rachel, who was becoming a permanent, necessary fixture in my life. I felt bad keeping secrets from her, but I rationalized this by telling myself, by understanding that the secrets I kept were for good reason, and perhaps in keeping them, I would keep her around longer.

I still didn't know how she'd react if she found out what I was. She had emphasized in the past that she didn't care if I was a monster, that she believed that I was still something good, deep down. I didn't want to give her any reasons to doubt; I didn't want to etch insecurities in her brain. I would rather keep those secrets and those insecurities in my own mind, along with my wavering self-control. She brought that out in me, the need to constantly do better and be better.

Which led to another struggle.

Then another.

We stood outside her car, which was still left parked at the high school at precisely 9:40, twenty minutes before she was due home. I would not disobey her fathers' commands. I would not give them any reason to dislike me. I would not even help her disobey them, even though I was beginning to understand that even the shortest time away from this girl was wreaking some sort of blissful havoc on my systems, installing a virus deep within me that continued to grow and develop on its own. It held both positive and negative effects, I decided: it was helping me become a different person, helping me develop into a better human, and teaching me not only about the world, but about myself. However, it was this same virus that lead to what was, quite possibly, an unhealthy level of attachment.

Rachel leaned back against her car, back pressed against the driver's side door, and looked at me with full, round, dark eyes.

"I don't want to say goodnight to you," Rachel said quietly. Sometimes, I wondered if she had access to my most private thoughts. However, the difference was that she had the abilities and tools to voice them aloud in ways I could not. She would open the doors, and blindly, I would follow. I learned this about myself also – I would follow every time, anywhere she asked.

"Your fathers set a ten o'clock curfew," I stated.

Rachel pouted, and I watched her bottom lip jut out, asking me to do horrible, irresponsible things. I shook my head and stood my ground.

"They're just overprotective. When I explain the situation, they'll find it to be charming and will likely-"

I cleared my throat, then looked pointedly at Rachel. I watched her stance crumble slightly, and she sank back a little, offering me a half smile as a consolation. She knew that I wouldn't bend on this issue.

"Ten o'clock, Rachel," I insisted.

Rachel's pout resurfaced, and I took a step closer, wanting to soothe the tenacious girl before me. I could sense her struggles along with my own, and felt a surge of what seemed to be compassion. It couldn't have been easy for her, either.

We had ended up spending a good amount of time in my bed, just content to hold one another, and I found that Rachel fit perfectly in my arms. We talked quietly after a good bout of silence, playing the question game that we had taken to at lunch, when we first met one another. Rachel was determined to find out every little factoid about me, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant I found it to be. She was determined, which was a positive characteristic I was growing quite fond of. Her tenacity, however, was unshakable, even now, when we were faced with stark reality.

Everything, everyone had to say goodbye.

I could sense her reasoning behind not wanting to. After all, the last time, it had been a more permanent sort of goodbye, which ended up taking me a year to return and surface in her world once more.

I had to make her realize that this wasn't the case. It would never happen a second time. This time, I was playing for keeps.

"It doesn't even take five minutes for me to drive home," Rachel said, glancing up, down, and all over me. I followed her gaze, not certain where she was trying to go, but when I felt Quinn stir, I got the hint loud and clear.

"And?"

"And we should be utilizing this time in a proper, useful way, don't you think?" Rachel asked seductively, licking her lips and reaching out to me. I found myself clutched between her small hands, each taking purchase on my hips and pulling me forward so I was situated against her body, effectively pinning her between me and her car.

"Oh," I breathed out, noticing that my exhale landed on her lips, which were now very, very close to mine. "Right. Absolutely."

"No more talking, Quinn," Rachel purred.

I nodded, and she closed the distance.

Every time I kissed Rachel Berry, it was something akin to being struck by lightning. Every time, no matter how many times it had happened, it always felt brand new. It felt like my body was wafting, untethered in the breeze, just waiting for a connection, and then when I found myself in Rachel, I was held fast to something bigger, something that gave me the strength to find exactly what I needed. It was an interesting thought that floated through my head, but was quickly pushed aside when Rachel became more insistent. She gripped my hips with her hands, flexing her fingers against my skin, and moved her hips forward, seeking more heat, more contact, more of everything I had to offer. I pulled back, panting slightly, and took in her wanton appearance.

She was miraculous. She was perfection.

She was everything.

"What happened to slow?" I asked quietly.

Rachel nodded, and I felt her thumbs stroke the skin just off to the side of my hipbones, caressing gently where my shirt had risen up.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I just... it's all so new, and I can't get enough."

I swallowed hard when a question surfaced in my mind. I knew it was linked to jealousy, but I didn't push it away. Humans had to feel emotions, right? The good could not exist without the bad. For every action, there was an equal and opposite... I knew what the basics meant. I knew logic and reason. It was my purpose, I understood it. My mind functioned in a way not unlike a computer, an operating system that picked up base cues from everything around me. Jealousy. I had learned that, so I could embrace it when it surfaced and I felt it.

I looked into Rachel's eyes, hoping to find truth there.

"Have you never... you've never been like this with others?"

Rachel looked down, then found me again. I sensed that mentally, she was far away, so I attempted to bridge the gap by pulling her closer, wrapping her up in me. She smiled, then placed a delicate kiss to the top of my shoulder before her eyes rose up again.

"There was... once. During the period of time where I was romantically attached to Finn," Rachel said, pausing when she heard my audible hiss of disapproval. She kissed my shoulder again, then held both of my hands in hers. "It was nothing. I mean, nothing big. We didn't take things any further than you and I have."

"It was nothing?"

She nodded.

"I don't want to hurt you by telling you the details, but if it will give you some sort of peace of mind. I know you're not his biggest fan..."

"It will."

Rachel steeled herself, bit down on her bottom lip, and inhaled deeply.

"All right," Rachel said. "He came over to my house one night, when my fathers were away. I felt horrible for sneaking him in, but they would have never approved, you see, and he was just so... convincing. I should have known better, but teenage hormones and the need to feel like I belonged somewhere got the best of me."

She paused again, and I prompted her.

"Go on. I'll be all right."

"We went up to my bedroom, and there was kissing. Like what we've done. A little touching, but no removal of clothing. I told him my stance on wanting to wait until I'm firmly set in my career, accomplished. Possibly by age 25. However, he was persistent, and I found his passion to be endearing, somehow, so we went to take things just a little further, but I had to stop."

"He listened?"

"Yes, Quinn," Rachel said. "Despite your opinions of him, he's not terrible. He's... a little difficult to communicate with at times, and has that strange male aggression and need to be overtly dominant, but he was a gentleman with me. He really liked me. He was the first person who ever really showed an interest in me, and he's one of the most attractive boys in school."

"Why did you stop?" I asked.

Rachel looked at me, then smiled.

"People always say that 'when it's right, you'll know,' and with Finn, it never felt right. It felt good, in a way, but never right. I don't know, it always just felt like I was waiting for something more than my inevitable Broadway career and multiple awards. Like I was supposed to be with someone else."

"Someone like... like me?" I asked, unable to stop the sounds of insecurity from creeping into my voice. Rachel placed her hand on my cheek, stroking my skin with her thumb.

"Exactly like you," Rachel whispered, then pulled me in for another slow, gentle kiss.

I held onto Rachel like it would be the last time and summoned her breath into my lungs. When she moaned, I pressed harder, and felt what it was meant to be alive. To be free. Finally, I felt the satisfaction of being human, of belonging and having a place, and being able to call something my own.

I pulled back and looked into those endless brown eyes.

"Rachel?"

"Don't tell me that I have to go home right now," Rachel breathed out.

"I wasn't going to say that, but soon you'll have to," I replied.

"Just don't say it right now."

"Okay."

Rachel grabbed my hand, and led me to the hood of her car, and she positioned us so I was leaning against the hood, and she was pressed flush against me, her back to my front. My arms slipped around her small waist, and I laid a gentle kiss to her shoulder blade. Rachel looked up, her eyes focused on the pinpricks of light, stars forming in the sky.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it, Quinn?"

"I can barely look away from you enough to appreciate it," I commented honestly. She swatted my arm and giggled.

"You and those words!" Rachel exclaimed. "What am I going to do with you?"

In an instant, I knew the answer.

Perhaps it wasn't the answer she was looking for. Her tone suggested that she was being playful, not overly serious. However, my response was warranted, provoked, and absolutely necessary.

"Be mine."

Rachel's eyes widened, and I felt her inhale sharply, a result of surprise.

"Quinn..."

I turned her in my arms, gazed deeply into her eyes, and kept her close. Too close.

"Be mine," I said again. "You asked what you were going to do with me. I don't care what you do. Just be mine. That's all I want."

"It was a rhetorical question, Quinn," Rachel said, and I silenced her with a simple, pleading look.

"Is that a no, then?"

Rachel exhaled again, a sigh, and looked at me via another one of her infamous head tilts. She was contemplating, I thought, looking at me like she had never really seen me, but wanted not only to see the outside, what I showed the entire world, but all the inside layers. I wanted so badly for her to know those parts of me. I felt that in time, in the right time, I would. She would be the only person to crack the code.

Nobody else was worthy.

"I've always been yours," Rachel said simply. Her words fell directly on my heart, striking a balanced chord of enlightenment that came with the feeling of being absolutely fulfilled in every way.

I wondered for a brief moment just how much truth was behind those words. She hadn't been able to allow herself the proper realm of intimacy with Finn. She had waited for me for an entire year, not knowing if I would ever return. She felt perfect, like my perfect match. Like a part of me that was detached from my body, acting on its own somehow, yet still belonged at my side.

Maybe she truly had always been mine.

I just hadn't laid claim on her yet.

I glanced at the watch on my arm. 9:50.

I sighed, then lowered my eyes.

"Quinn, what is it? What's wrong?" Rachel asked gently.

"You have to go," I said quietly.

Rachel's brow furrowed as she played an idea in her head. Then, a smirk rose on her features, and she leaned forward to place a quick, chaste kiss on my lips.

"This doesn't have to be a bad thing!" Rachel said animatedly, waving her hands around and indulging in our close proximity for a few moments longer.

"Explain."

"Tomorrow, both my fathers will be home. Dad's back from his latest business trip, and even though he tends to favor family time when he gets back from those things, I'm sure he wouldn't mind you coming over for dinner."

"Come over for dinner tomorrow night?" I reiterated.

Rachel grinned.

"Yes, tomorrow night," Rachel said. "My fathers have always been incredibly open-minded in the prospects of my dating life, although it has been nearly non-existent. They didn't like Finn, either, so you'll have that in common, and my Daddy already loves you."

"He does?"

That was a surprise. I never thought I had the proper tools to enchant a parental figure, but then I remembered: it wasn't me.

Thank you, Quinn.

"Yes, of course he does. Who wouldn't?" Rachel said. "And since you've got he and I both firmly in your corner, my dad should be easy enough to charm. He's the more difficult parent, definitely, but I have faith that he'll approve of you."

"I really do hope so."

Rachel kissed me again, letting it linger. The air around us had turned cold, and when we parted and breathed, I could see our breath float together as steam, which brought a smile to my face. Rachel's bottom lip was swollen and dewy, likely from our continuous bouts of passion. I wondered if her fathers would notice. Would they inspect her, interrogate her? Would I be in trouble when I did walk in their home tomorrow evening?

"Just be yourself," Rachel instructed. "You're kind of remarkable."

Remarkable.

I'd been called that a time or two, though not for the reasons Rachel meant.

Rachel leaned in, but before her lips could touch mine, I pulled back, giving her a gentle smile to know that it wasn't anything against her. This was my practicality kicking in along with a new desire to get on her fathers' good sides, respectively.

"Go, or I won't be able to let you leave."

My arms lost their grip on her body, and we both hopped off the hood of her car. I watched her get in, and didn't stop watching until she had left the parking lot.

The rest of my night was on autopilot: home, nightly routines, then straight to bed. I tossed and turned that night, over and over again, my mind was on constant rotation: Rachel, Marcus, 22-B, the lab, feelings, emotions...

It was more than I could handle.

How do you shut it off?

I didn't remember anything after that.

The next morning, I woke up feeling completely refreshed. Actually, it was the best sleep I could ever remember having.

I found my phone on the nightstand, and turned it on to check the time. I had woken up ten minutes before my 7:00 AM alarm was due to sound. I checked my status bar, and saw a text message icon, signaling that I had an unread message.

Sure enough, it was from Rachel.

I opened it, and read: I can't wait to see you at school today. I hope you slept well. All my dreams were of you. Xoxo, Your Rachel.

My Rachel.

My Rachel.

I grinned, stretching my muscles that were tense from staying in the same position for a good number of hours.

Nothing could deflate my mood.

I walked into the halls of McKinley, head held high, feet careening across the floor in a manner that suggested I might actually be walking on water. Everybody I passed in the crowd got a head nod, a smile, or both, even though my eyes were scanning for familiarity.

I was looking for dark eyes, brown hair, short, petite frame. I was looking, naturally, for Rachel.

Then, a glimpse of brown caught my eye. I felt a drop in my stomach, and felt my palms start to sweat a little. I smiled, and made my way toward the girl, trying to make a solid plan of how I would act upon greeting Rachel. Even though I had been brave enough, or possibly careless enough, to kiss her in front of the entire student body less than 24 hours prior, we hadn't discussed boundaries in a school setting. I knew that it was difficult being a member of a same-sex relationship in modern society, although my mind could not wrap around the reasoning behind this.

I cared for Rachel, deeply, and she cared for me in the same regard. It had been a long time coming, possibly longer than either of us could really comprehend, so I wasn't about to tread upon it lightly, or let anyone else with their small minds lessen it or dirty it.

I kept walking closer, realizing that my timing was horrible.

The girl turned around, and instead of the happy, excited smile I was hoping for, I was met with something very different.

"Hey, Rainbow Brite! Nice show after school the other day," Santana remarked, fully equipped with venom in every syllable of her words.

"It's lovely to see you again, too, Santana," I remarked dryly. Santana took a few steps closer, edging me all the way to the lockers. She slammed her hand hard by the side of my head and glared at me. I jolted, surprised mostly by the loud noise, since I knew she couldn't hurt me. She had the capacity to make my day unpleasant, at best, but couldn't really cause me any physical harm. At least, not without consequences. I could feel my other half stirring already, preparing to unleash herself upon the other brunette that she wasn't fond of at all.

"Listen up, freak show," Santana snarled. "I don't know where you went off to for so long. Wonderland, maybe, but since you've come back, I thought I'd give you a friendly replay of the rules around here. Your little Pride parade? Not welcome."

"Why not?" I asked defiantly. "I don't see why it's such an issue. Unless you're also interested in courting Rachel."

Santana practically hissed at me for that remark.

"Bitch, please. I've got a type, and I prefer my significant others to be taller and less hairy," Santana retorted sharply.

"Rachel is not hairy," I defended.

"She's a hobbit. Personally, I don't see the attraction, because if you weren't such a freak of nature, I'd say you could hang with the higher-ups. You know, the pretty and popular types, like me. Because you've got some game going on under those shapeless polo shirts and discount jeans."

"I don't want to be your friend."

"Please," Santana said, raising a hand. "Everyone wants some of this in one way or another. You should feel lucky I give you enough of my time to torment you."

"I feel so blessed," I drawled. "Can you move, please? I have a class to attend."

Santana whistled, then moved in again, like a hungry lioness stalking her prey. Except, I didn't feel like prey. I didn't feel intimidated. I mostly felt bored. And Quinn mostly felt a strange, overwhelming need to rip every strand of Santana's hair out at the root.

"You think you're hot shit, but you're not. You think you're something, I don't know what, but truth is, sweetie, you're nothing. Not anything. So, stay out of my way, or I'll find better places to toss your ass than the dumpster," Santana threatened.

I felt a fire surge in my belly, and bit my tongue from releasing a strand of horrible things that would mostly send the already tilting girl completely off her axis.

Just then, Brittany came up, separating us in the nick of time by placing a hand gently on Santana's shoulder.

"What?" Santana reeled, turning around with cold eyes that immediately softened when she saw who the hand belonged to. "Sorry, B."

"It's okay," Brittany said gently. "Walk me to class?"

Santana looked between me and Brittany, shifting her gaze back and forth a few times before pursing her lips and nodding abruptly.

Brittany extended her hand when Santana took a step back, and their pinkies linked, as if they were gravitated toward each other. Opposites, in nearly every way, finding their mate in one another. I could see the beauty in it, in the way that Brittany, who truly seemed to be a gentle soul, calmed the headstrong, obviously tormented girl and made her someone that was possibly likeable.

Part of me wished that I could see that side of Santana, or find a way to get close enough to Brittany to befriend her. However, I feared that both of these things were close to, if not already impossible.

Brittany turned to look at me as they were walking away, and I glanced into her cerulean eyes, deep as oceans, vast and filled to the brim with gentle emotion. She smiled at me, and mouthed a quick apology. I nodded, accepting, and they walked out of sight. I slumped back against the lockers, breathing heavily, and felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw another text from Rachel waiting for me.

Can you come to class early? I wanted to discuss the dinner menu for tonight and I saved you a seat. Xoxo, Your Rachel

I tapped out a quick reply, and felt my feet pick up speed, traveling on air, perhaps as they lifted me all the way down the hallway into the classroom.

I sank into the seat next to Rachel, who practically started bouncing in her seat, unable to contain her joy when she saw me.

I quietly organized my books, my thoughts, and cleared my mind so I would be able to give her the proper amount of attention and focus.

However, she instantly sensed something was amiss.

Busted.

"Are you all right?" Rachel asked, her brow furrowing with concern. "You're not still worried about impressing my fathers, are you? Because they were already quite pleased that you insisted on the punctuality of my curfew and obeyed their wishes. So that's a check to the positive."

I shook my head and pursed my lips.

"No, I'm not as concerned about that. I'm still a little nervous, but the fact that you like me so much has given me hope."

Rachel smiled, then went right back to focusing on the cause behind my apparent difference in personality.

"So, if not dinner, what's got you troubled?" Rachel asked. She placed her hand over mine. "Because, as much as brooding suits you, I prefer when you smile."

"I had another encounter with Santana Lopez," I said. "I don't know why she hates me so much, and then she started attacking you verbally, and her words are just cruel, Rachel. I don't know why she says those sorts of things. I'd prefer she just stuck with insulting me, but you? I can't stand it."

"I'm used to it," Rachel said sadly. "That's just how she is. You know, sometimes people don't take very well to being... different."

Different? How was she any different than the other bullies and humans who sought out others just to crush them under their shoes?

"Really? Different? How?"

"She's..." Rachel said, then leaned in conspiratorially, and lowered her voice to an near inaudible pitch. Which was quite difficult for her, I assumed. "She's like us, Quinn."

"I know she's female, Rachel."

"No! She's..." Rachel raised her voice, then lowered it to a whisper again. But first, she looked around, just to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. "She likes girls. Perhaps not exclusively, but at least to some degree. So, she's probably targeting you because it makes it easier to hide things about herself. I've read a lot of books on adolescent psychology."

"Oh," I said. "Well, why doesn't somebody help her?"

Rachel's eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

"Quinn, nobody would dare."

I shrugged.

"Everyone could use a good friend, Rachel," I said. "Even cruel bullies like Santana Lopez."

Suddenly, it dawned upon me.

What a perfect way to place myself in society. Santana Lopez held the keys to the kingdom. With her on my side, I could secure myself at McKinley, and keep Rachel safe from bullies.

It was quite possibly the perfect representation of a "win-win" situation.

I smiled, but hid most of the joy, not wanting Rachel to know what I was plotting. I reached across the aisle and grabbed her hand, not caring what anyone would say or if anyone even saw the gesture.

I finally had a plan.

First, I had to convince Rachel's fathers that I was worthy of their daughter's affections.

Then I was going to befriend Santana Lopez.