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Note: Thanks again to everybody who was kind enough to leave me a note after the last chapter. Seeing how much you are enjoying this story is really what keeps me motivated to continue to work on it - so THANK YOU!

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CHAPTER 21

It was déjà vu all over again.

Rachel's hand was tucked into the crook of Quinn's arm as they led the way out of the bar, Brittany laughing as she helped a wasted Santana out behind them. Even though Quinn's car was parked in the alley behind the club, they went out the front door so they could help Brittany get Santana into the car, and that was when they hit the wall of cameras.

"ARE YOU TWO DATING?"

"RACHEL, DID YOU SING?"

"QUINN, WHAT ABOUT YOU?"

"WHO GOT THE MOST APPLAUSE?"

"Fucking hell," Quinn muttered as she glanced back at Brittany who was far enough behind her and Rachel to not be included in any of the photos that were being taken. The dancer seemed genuinely unaffected by the cameras and she was glad that the dancer didn't react to them at all. She was pretty sure that no magazine would buy a picture of just her friends leaving a bar, but she hated the idea of dragging them into this side of her world. The photographers were moving around, constantly shifting in front of them as she tried to blaze a trail through the crowd to the parking lot where Brittany had said they'd parked. The cameras moved with her, a fluidity to their motion that was almost poetic in the way that they took two steps back for every one forward that she took. At least she had enough of a reputation to garner that level of respect.

Brittany, however, was not unaware of the cameras and had, in fact, experienced more than her fair share of paparazzi while she was working on the videos of some of the biggest musical artists. She knew the focus was on Quinn and Rachel, and she knew that Quinn would be torn between wanting to protect her and Santana, and protecting Rachel. And Rachel needed to be Quinn's first priority. Never mind the fact that, once the two stars left, the cameras would go with them, leaving her alone with her still-singing girlfriend so that she could get them home.

"I got the moves like Jagger, got the moves like Jagger," Santana sang drunkenly, drawing everybody's attention to her. That was the song she got up and sang right before they'd left the bar.

Brittany took advantage of the distraction Santana provided and caught Quinn's eye, telling her with a look that she was okay to get Santana home by herself. She had been hoping for a more traditional goodbye, she really had missed Rachel and it had been so nice to spend some time catching up with the brunette, but, for now, this was what needed to happen.

Quinn caught the silent message Brittany was sending her and she nodded once in understanding. She held Brittany's gaze and mouthed, 'text me later', before she abruptly changed direction, tightening her hold on Rachel's hand as she began moving away from the parking lot and in the direction of the back alley where her car was parked.

"You have got to be kidding me," she groaned when she spotted her car. There were four more paparazzi surrounding the vehicle, spaced out for an ambush should she and Rachel exited the bar via the back entrance. Great. Just great.

"WHO ASKED WHO OUT FIRST?"

"RACHEL, IS QUINN THE FIRST WOMAN YOU'VE DATED?"

"QUINN, WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE TO KNOW YOU SNAGGED BROADWAYS BIGGEST STAR?"

"DID YOU TWO HOOK UP BECAUSE OF THE MOVIE?"

Quinn sighed and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from rolling her eyes. At least, from the questions being shouted at them, she knew that nobody from inside the club had shared how affectionate she and Rachel had been. She was still glad that they weren't hiding, but she was more than a little annoyed at this level of intrusive scrutiny. They were just two people in a relationship. Did they really warrant this sort of interest?

As was her usual operating procedure, Quinn continued to smile and nod, giving the cameras all the pictures they wanted and none of the words to go with them that would give industrious gossips anything negative to write about her. Instead, she just guided Rachel through the throng, getting the cameras that didn't automatically move out of their way to shift with a soft spoken, "Excuse us, please". The questions continued to rain down on them as they walked but they just ignored them, and Quinn breathed a little easier once she'd helped Rachel into the car.

A photographer blocked her path as she went to round the back of the car and she bit her lip, trying to calm her temper. It would do her no good to lose it now. "Could you please get out of the way?"

He grinned and shook his head as he continued to take picture after picture.

Quinn groaned and looked over at the other photographers who were taking advantage of her situation and snagging a few more pictures for themselves. They're like locusts, she thought to herself. "Okay. That's enough. You guys got your pictures of us, go do whatever it is you do with them and please let us go."

"THE CHATEAU MARMONT CONFIRMED THAT RACHEL CHECKED OUT THIS MORNING. CARE TO COMMENT?" an ambitious photog hollered.

"Nope," Quinn growled, as she pushed past the man that was blocking her path. She knew it would only bring more cameras down on her later on, now that there was the potential for anger and retaliation pictures, which always got good money, but she'd had enough. It had been a good night out, even with the fact that pretty much everybody in the bar had taken videos of her and Rachel singing, and then this clusterfuck had to go and ruin it.

Sometimes she really hated being a celebrity.

"Are you going to be able to back out?" Rachel asked as Quinn jumped into the car and slammed her door loudly after herself.

Quinn grimaced and looked around at the flashing bulbs that surrounded them. "I dunno. If not, I'll call the cops and they'll clear them out," she said as she slipped her key into the ignition and started the car. Keeping her foot on the brake, she revved the engine a few times as a warning that she was going to try and leave, and she sighed as none of the paparazzi moved. "Great. Just fucking great," she said as she pulled out her phone. She scanned through her contact list until she found the entry labeled 'SNAFU – Malibu' and hit send.

"Ryan," a tired voice answered.

"Hey, Ryan, it's Quinn Fabray. I'm outside Howl at the Moon in Malibu and there are a bunch of paparazzi surrounding my car who won't let me get out of here. Could you please send out a unit or two and have them clear out this riff-raff so that I can leave?"

"Will do, Quinn. Anything else?"

Quinn looked out her window at a photographer who had his camera pressed up against the glass and groaned. "Make it quick? They're getting rather pushy."

"Hold on," Detective Ryan said and Quinn could hear him talking on another line. "All right. Got it covered. There were two units on regular patrol a couple blocks from your position, so they should be arriving any minute. Do you think he's in the group?"

Quinn bit her lip as a shiver of fear rolled through her. "I didn't see him."

"Lemme know if you do."

"I will," she said as she spotted a couple of police cars stopping at the mouth of the alley. "Your boys just got here. I think we're good now."

"Gotcha. Call me if you need anything else."

"Thanks, Ryan," Quinn said before she hung up and turned to smile tiredly at Rachel. "We'll be able to get out of here soon."

"Who's Ryan?" Rachel asked, as she watched the cameras that had been surrounding them begin to disappear.

"A local detective," Quinn answered as she waved her thanks at the boys in blue and backed carefully out of the parking space. "I had an incident up here last year, a fan, and I use the term loosely, pretended to be a paparazzi and got a little too close for comfort."

Rachel gasped. "How close?"

"He had me pushed up against a wall," Quinn answered quietly as she turned onto PCH and headed south, anxious to return to the safety and security of her home.

"Did he hurt you?"

Quinn shook her head as she remembered the feeling of his forearm against her throat and reached over to take Rachel's hand into her own. She rubbed her thumb over the brunette's knuckles and said, "Not really. Armageddon boot camp with Sylvester taught me basic self-defense, and I used to do some kickboxing, so I was able to fight him off. Oddly enough, that night one the paparazzi helped subdue the guy until the cops came. Most were still taking pictures, of course, but Gavin helped. So he's the guy we call now if Jack wants something in particular leaked via visual evidence."

"I can't believe somebody attacked you," Rachel said, her eyes wide with shock.

Quinn shrugged. At the time she had been scared, and angry, but now she was just weary of it all. The guy had got off with probation on assault charges since it was his fist offence and has, so far, respected the restraining order that forbade him from being within two hundred yards of her. "It happens, unfortunately. I need to call Jack and tell him about what just happened. Do you care if I do it now, or would you prefer I wait until we get home?"

Rachel smiled in spite of herself at the way Quinn had said 'home' and shook her head. "I don't mind. I should probably call Tina as well."

Quinn nodded and, at the next light, flipped on her Bluetooth before calling Jack.

"It's one thirty in the fucking morning," Jack Reynolds, Quinn's publicist, answered after the third ring. "So there better be copious amounts blood, broken bones, or a dead fucking body to be disposed of if you're calling me now."

"How about a hoard of paparazzi surrounding me and Rachel as we left Howl tonight?" Quinn said, rolling her eyes at his theatrics.

"Shit. Yeah, that'll get me up. What happened, Q?"

"We went out with some old friends from Ohio," Quinn said, smiling as she felt Rachel lips brush across the back of her hand.

"At Howl?"

"Right. It was their monthly open mic night. Oh, you're on Bluetooth now, by the way. Rachel's with me."

"Hello Rachel. Quinn's told me a lot about you," Jack said tiredly.

"Hi," Rachel answered.

"I'm going to need the name and number of your publicist so we can coordinate a strategy for you two," Jack said, getting back to business.

"Tina Cohen-Chang, with Chang and Hall Publicists in New York," Rachel said. "You want her number now?"

"If you have it. Have you called her yet?"

"She's next on the list," Rachel said. "Her number is 212-867-5309."

"Got it. Now, I didn't ask before, but since you've been caught out again – how out do you guys want this relationship to be? Should we release a statement confirming it, or do you want to remain silent? Either way, the tabloids are going to be all over this."

Quinn looked at Rachel who shrugged. "I don't care, Quinn. I'm serious about this."

Quinn nodded. "Well, we weren't exactly hiding anything in the club tonight, so go ahead and coordinate a statement with Tina and send it out. Keep it vague, but cover the basics. And, just so you're aware, Rachel has checked out of the Chateau Marmont and is staying at my house now."

"Ummm, okay," Jack drawled. "Will do. Right, so, tonight. You went to Howl with some friends. Did you guys sing?"

"Yeah," Quinn answered. "One song, just me, two songs with Rachel."

"What songs?"

"I Kissed a Girl, that was my solo, if you will, and then Rach and I sang Bubbly and Many the Miles."

"Well, at least it wasn't anything risqué like S&M or Sexy Back," Jack muttered.

"Um, one of our friends did sing Sexy Back, but that was before most of the people knew who we were."

"Great," Jack groaned. "So, in case I need to deflect any rumors about that stuff, who were you two with?"

"Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce."

"And they went to high school with you and Rachel."

"They did," Rachel answered.

"Do I need to be worried about them?"

"Other than the fact that being caught with them will bring up the fact that Rachel and I knew each other in high school, no. Santana's a third-year law student at Pepperdine and Brittany is a choreographer in the music industry."

"I see," Jack said. "I'm guessing that the whole high school connection between you two wouldn't be a good thing to get out."

"I've told you before that I was a complete bitch in high school," Quinn said. "So, no. It won't be good for me."

"Which means it won't be good for me. Gotcha. Okay, anything else?"

Quinn shot a look at Rachel and sighed, knowing that there was one last piece of information that needed to be brought to Jack's attention now. "Beth's adoptive mom is Rachel's birth mother."

"Jesus. And I thought LA was inbred," Jack muttered. "Um, sorry."

"It's okay," Rachel said quietly.

Quinn squeezed Rachel's hand and added, "Oh, and there will most likely be video and pictures hitting the internet soon – if it's not already up – of me and Rachel on stage singing, and possibly cuddling at the table."

"No tonsil hockey?"

"Nothing major. A light kiss here or there, one big kiss," Quinn added, flashing back to Rachel's impromptu attack, "but nothing really risqué."

"Well, finish your phone calls and then go get on that. If I'm going to be dealing with this mess, you might as well be getting some," Jack teased, sounding more awake. "I'll call you in the morning."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Thanks, Jack," Quinn said before she disconnected the call. "Sorry about all this," she murmured, squeezing Rachel's hand again for emphasis.

"It's not your fault, sweetheart," Rachel said, leaning across the car to press a chaste kiss to the blonde's cheek. "It's just the way it works, unfortunately."

Quinn nodded sadly, thinking that her plans of taking Rachel to The Little Door tomorrow night were most likely not going to happen. She had been looking forward to taking the brunette on a real date but, after tonight, she knew it probably wouldn't be a good idea. After these latest pictures hit the tabloids, they were going to be pretty much under house arrest. Good thing we went grocery shopping earlier, she thought wryly. "I'm still sorry."

Rachel's heart clenched at the sorrow in Quinn's voice. "I know, beautiful. But it's not your fault. We'll deal. We'll be fine."

Quinn bit her lip and nodded, hoping and praying that Rachel meant what she said and that they really would be fine. Beginning a relationship under this kind of scrutiny and attention was a recipe for disaster, she could only hope that Rachel being used to some level of intrusive curiosity meant that they could survive it. "Yeah. Okay. You should probably call Tina in case Jack decides he wants to work out a strategy right now."

Rachel squeezed Quinn's hand and slipped back into her seat. "Okay," she said as she pulled out her phone.

"It is four thirty in the morning. This better be damned important, Rachel."

"Quinn and I got ambushed outside a club tonight," Rachel retorted. "Good enough?"

"That'll do it," Tina groaned. "Give me the bullets."

"Open mic night at a dueling piano bar. Brittany and Santana. Singing with Quinn on stage. Video of said singing and possibly pictures of us cuddling at the table will be online within hours. Possibly a picture of me kissing Quinn… like, really kissing her. And Quinn's publicist will be calling you soon to, quote, 'coordinate a strategy' and go over drafting a statement confirming our relationship."

"Coordinating a strategy is a good idea," Tina said. "And, okay. Okay. Okay. I'll handle it. Did you have fun?"

"Yes."

"Good. You sang with Quinn? Like a duet?"

"Two duets, actually," Rachel clarified, smiling at Quinn who was focused on the road. PCH was nearly empty and the blonde was pushing the speed limit, probably trying to get home before any of the paparazzi could beat them there.

"Songs?"

"Bubbly, and then Quinn surprised me by playing the piano and we sang Many the Miles."

"Very romantic," Tina yawned. "Anything else?"

Rachel cleared her throat. "I've, um, checked out of the Chateau Marmont and am staying at Quinn's house."

"Damn, Berry. You don't waste any time, do you?" Tina teased. "Just be careful. Alright, I'm heading into the office to try and head off this clusterfuck. Call me after you two roll out of bed later and I'll fill you in."

"Sounds good, Tina. Thank you."

"No problem, Rach. Tell Quinn I say hello."

"I will. I'll call you later," Rachel said, disconnecting the call and dropping her phone back into her purse. "Done. And, Tina says hello."

Quinn nodded and sighed. "Just have one more call," she said as she lifted her phone up to where she could see both it and the road, and scrolled through her contacts until she found the one she needed.

"Who?"

"Puck," Quinn groaned as she put the call through.

"Wassit?" a tired voice answered.

Quinn grinned in spite of everything and yelled, "PUCKASAURUS!"

"Fuck, Q," Puck grumbled, slightly more intelligibly. "It's like, three in the goddamn morning. Is everything okay?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. Of course everything wasn't alright. If it were, she wouldn't be calling him in the middle of the night. "Yes and no."

"Does this have anything to do with the pictures I saw of you and Rachel online?"

"Yes."

"Did you finally nail her? I mean, really, Q. You've been drooling over Berry for-fucking-ever. If you don't tap that now, I'm going to lock you two in the janitor's closet at the reunion next year."

"Hello, Noah," Rachel chuckled.

Puck laughed loudly. "Q, you could have told me I was on speaker! Berrylicious, you hot little Jew you. How are you doing? You treating my baby momma right?"

Rachel smiled. "I'm doing well, thank you."

"She's amazing," Quinn answered his second question. "But, that's why we're calling. Paparazzi caught us outside a bar tonight."

"A titty-bar?"

"Get your mind out of the fucking gutter, Puckerman," Quinn growled. "Why the hell would I take Rachel to a titty-bar?"

Rachel laughed softly and looked out the window at the variegated charcoal landscape of houses, beaches, and ocean, the ghost of her reflection looking back at her from the glass.

"I dunno. Because it's what we do when you come home to visit?"

Rachel turned back to Quinn and grinned. "Really?" she whispered.

Quinn lifted her hand off of the steering wheel to smack herself in the forehead as she nodded at Rachel. "God, Puck. Can you please just shut up and listen?"

"You got it," Puck laughed. "What's up? Wait, that dumb fuck from last year wasn't there, was he?"

"No, he wasn't. But, there will be video of me and Rachel singing, and some pictures of us cuddling online by the time Lima wakes up in a few hours. I don't want to call Shelby and wake her with this news, so could you please go over there later and let her know what's up. She needs to be prepared in case the press decides to make another visit. The restraining orders and orders to cease and desist still stand, so Beth should be protected, but I want her to be aware of what's happening."

"Will do."

"Good. And, could you let me know if you see anyone hanging around town that shouldn't be there?"

"Can I lay them out?"

"No. Just tell me, so we can tell our publicists. And, if anyone does show up, try and keep them away from my parents."

"Have you talked to them about all this?"

"Puck, I haven't talked to them since I told them I was gay and they disowned me again. You know that. I just don't want them putting a recorder in front of my dad's mouth; god knows what that bible-thumping bastard will say."

"I'll try my best, Q. Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of. Tell Beth I say hello when you see her. And, that I'm still planning on making it out for her birthday next month."

"That'll make her happy," Puck said, a smile clearly evident in his tone. "Okeydokey. You girls go have fun. I've got your backs here."

"Thanks, Puck," Quinn said sincerely.

"Yes. Thank you, Noah," Rachel chimed in.

"No problem. Call if you need anything else, 'kay, Q?"

"You got it," Quinn said, grinning as her only response was a dial tone. "Well, that went okay."

"Had you told him about us?" Rachel asked.

Quinn smiled and turned off of PCH onto Rose. They were almost home. "No. This was the first time I'd talked to him in a month or so. Puck's cool. He still tends to act like an ass most of the time, but he's grown up quite a lot too. He's been on me to try and get back in touch with you since Jamie left. Honestly, Rach, that man is your biggest cheerleader. After me, and, probably your dads, of course."

Rachel smiled. "I find that rather touching, actually."

"Yeah. He has his moments," Quinn agreed as she turned onto her street.

"So, you two go to titty-bars, huh?" Rachel asked, her voice tinged with laughter.

"It's our thing," Quinn said with an unapologetic shrug. "It's stupid and whatever, but it's our thing."

Rachel bit her lip and grinned. "Has a picture of that made its way onto the internet yet?"

"Thankfully, no," Quinn said as she pulled into her garage, closing the rolling door behind them before she had even killed the engine.

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