Love by Proxy

by slowread

Rewrite from "New York" episode. Finn convinces the new Quinn to help him get Rachel. Lines get blurred in the process. Now, all three of them were going to get hurt. Some Finchel. Eventual Faberry! Brittana also.

25. Chapter 25 So This is Progress

Chapter 25 – So this is Progress

Hi guys! Here's the new chapter. It is another unbelievably long one, but the ending is hopefully what you guys deserve. There's only probably a couple of chapters left to this saga of mine, so you guys won't have to deal with the long waits anymore. I'm thankful that you guys love the characters enough to pick sides. It's actually a pretty even split so maybe I did something right eh? In response some questions, I thought 8 years was the right time for college and for Rachel to get to this point in her career.

Anyways review response time:

T – Haha sorry about that. It is just the way I'm used to writing. Will work on it though.

Phoebex13 – I advise not starting this chapter at night. It is long and you might not get to sleep! I look forward to your responses. I think that everyone should have a Santana or Tyler in their lives. Thanks about that compliment about my version of Quinn (grrrr I still own nothing =) anyways, her character is never really explored on the show so it just kind of seemed right in my head.

Sekehowlka – Rachel is just a special, special child isn't she? I think I just wanted to keep her in character and still let her grow a bit. Enjoyed reading your thoughts! Thanks.

Faithx5452 – Garsh. Can't wipe the grin of my face. Highest compliment any author can have. Thanks so much. If I ever get the time I might want to start a story that focuses on Brittana and the early Quinn and Santana friendship that I often allude to in this story. Gah, so many ideas.

Jock –Those are some of my favourite lines as well, they seemed to fit. Thanks! =)

Guy - I think that Lima was good for Quinn's growth, because she wasn't without motivation, skill or money; but her perspective had changed. Like she wasn't throwing everything away, she was building herself up. At that point, the scattered version of herself after college found Lima to be what she couldn't appreciate before? Anyways I'm rambling. Look forward to your thoughts on this chapter though! Thanks again.

Feintidea – You're too kind. Please don't cry, smile because I promise this chapter ends happy. Unfortunately I can't take credit for the lyrics but I have a good itunes library and this story is actually built around it =)

EAnIL – Read on a computer screen. This will be better =)

Conventgirlvampire – My pretty pretty words huh? Thanks so much =) I think that I am just too much of a romantic but until something happens otherwise that's the way I'll stay. I'm glad that this story really means something to you.

S8105 – Wifey! Emotionless robot? Psh no such thing, the right person always breaks us out of it =) Though I'm the same, I can only show emotions in writing according to my friends. This one is to bring out the smiles. I hope you like the end of this chapter.

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed and feel free to jump to the story now! The song that the girls sing is a favourite: All this time by One Republic.

Previously…

"Hi Rachel."

For some reason, it feels like a lifeline.

Santana holds her breath as she stands still, waiting the silence out. Quinn's soft voice lingers in the air. And, Rachel's jaw closes. Her wide eyes betray just how much she isn't ready for this. Suddenly her clothes are too warm, too constricting and yet, she doesn't want to walk away. It takes a while but she absorbs every little thing about the pianist, basking in the fact that she can finally feel her heart try to beat its way out of her chest again. There's a familiar flutter in her stomach and the first words that slip out are honest and unfiltered.

"You look good..."

Quinn blushes.

She almost looks away till she realizes that she doesn't want to waste any second with the singer. Even the closing of an eyelid feels to long. So, she's courageous as she lets hazel meet brown. She thinks that Rachel's gaze is still every bit at exposing and powerful as it once was.

"Thank you. Rachel, I… how are you?"

There's a hesitance, a stutter and a pause to her speech. Santana rolls her eyes because Quinn has never had trouble with words but Rachel Berry seemed to have the unrelenting effect on her confidence. It's sweet…the notion that you can't lie or hide. However, it also leaves one defenseless and open to new wounds. So as the pianist plays with the hem of her cardigan, waiting for an answer, Rachel moves to the window that looks out to the street; not too close and not at all far away. It scares both of them that this is actually happening, after all these years. And maybe, the brunette can feel how hard this whole situation must be. Or maybe she still cares enough to want to spare the blonde the struggle of forcing the conversation. But perhaps the most likely is that Rachel has simply missed Quinn Fabray's presence, and now even superficial exchanges mean so much more.

"I'm good, Quinn. Finally, got to the Broadway stage."

The singer absentmindedly gestures to the studio room. Her voice is slightly distant as she tries to shake the fact that all she wants is to hug the blonde. Quinn, on the other hand tries to be calm. She takes a seat on the piano stool, watching Rachel pace and move about. Quiet words slip out.

"I heard."

"You did?"

Rachel looks up surprised. Her voice goes that little higher at the end of the question and she hates that she can't disguise the hope and flattered tone that emerges. She barely notices when Quinn stands up, but she does straighten when the blonde's breath tickles her neck. She thinks that she can almost feel the flutter of the blonde's sundress behind her as a raspy voice answers.

"Yeah. I have the soundtrack."

Rachel smiles softly to herself. It occurs to both girls that they should probably separate and move apart. And as Quinn's hands covers hers on the glossy piano top, it feels too intimate and they forget that Santana is still in the room.

"You sang beautifully."

The brunette turns around to face the blonde. She takes time to gauge the other girl's sincerity. There's a second when her eyes widen slightly and Quinn takes an embarrassed step back, because, Rachel finds something else. It is something that they both swear that they've forgotten: a flicker of sorts. So instead they ignore it and try to place it at the back of their minds. Rachel wanders to the other side of the room, letting freedom run her speech.

"You know none of this happened the way that I thought it would. Sometimes I still think that it all happened overnight."

Quinn tilts her head curiously. The singer tries not to chuckle at the familiar action. It's harder than it seems. Still, for the first time in years she gets to be herself and she realizes one important thing…that Quinn is still the one to make her feel safe. So as the blonde follows her, always two steps behind, Rachel shows how she's not the famous Broadway star. She explains the thoughts that got her here. And Quinn finds herself settling in for the long haul because she wants to listen. In her mind, she can almost paint her parts in the blanks.

Rachel speaks with awe, reverence and subdued sense of enthusiasm.

"One second I'm just boring Rachel Berry singing in her room and the next, my face is everywhere. Girls want me to sign their playbills. And the boys have my picture on their walls. It's hard to believe."

There's a pause. It's the first time they recognize just how much time has passed. Quinn can't help the break in her voice as she lets out a soft whisper. The statement is striking in its surety.

"I don't think you were ever boring."

The girls smile at the comment. It's almost like an inside joke, as they are each hit by a separate set of memories. Santana shakes her head in amusement as she leaves the room. At the very least they weren't going to kill each other.

Rachel is the first to look away. She was never really equipped to deal with such confrontations. Quinn was. In high school, the blonde could be firm, kind and cruel, all at the same time. She made sure that the singer was never weak. It meant something as a fellow New Direction member. It meant far more as a timid friend. But it meant everything as someone that loved Rachel.

Slowly a tune comes to the singer's mind and she can't help but hum it out loud. Rachel has always believed music had the ability communicate what nobody could say. The trembling high notes are perfect, in showing the uncertainty that existed. It takes only another moment for Quinn to gasp. It is a song that Rachel shouldn't know. The sounds of the "You could be happy" fill the room.

Quinn thinks that she can forgive Santana and Brittany for showing the singer this song. It must be hard being in the middle. However maybe at the time, their friends realized that both of them needed the words. And in the midst of all this, the pianist can't help but think that Rachel sings it better…

Is it to late to remind you how we were?

You made me happier than I'd been by far…

As the music comes to an end, the singer is knelt in front of the seated blonde. She places a hand behind the back of Quinn's neck, leaning their foreheads together. It is the same position they had adopted when they first decided that their relationship wasn't something either wanted to walk away from.

So now, as they remember the past, they manage to feel close and can't help the relieved laughter that escapes. Rachel looks into Quinn's eyes and she realizes that they're not who they used to be. This version of the blonde couldn't be mean, stripped down her bare emotions. Love. Guilt. Pain.

Whereas, the singer… she's matured by years in the spotlight. Rachel refuses to be petty; finally ready to acknowledge that Quinn won't slip away if she doesn't want her to. And with so little space in between them, she asks heartbreakingly.

"Quinn…Teach me to do this. Show me how to be just your friend."

It is hard not to break down a cry because this is a chance, more than either had hoped for. And while the interaction is not easy, the effort doesn't feel like a waste.

"Is that really what you want?"

Quinn makes sure, because, Brittany had been right all those years ago: no more giving up and no more running. They were going to help each other out of this emotional limbo.

"No. But I really can't handle anything else right now."

It's a start: their second beginning.

/

"Hi guys sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe the traffic!"

A loud voice interrupts as a tall man strides in. Santana is hot on his heels as she tries to stop him. She quickly mouths apologies to the two girls, who quickly break apart. Quinn raises an eyebrow at the hand thrust in front of her face.

"Hello, you must be Charlie. I'm Lewis Tanning. And can I just say you look much lovelier than the mysterious profile that the media has created for you."

The compliment is smooth, thrown into the sentence with little hesitance. Santana and Rachel can be heard groaning and muttering in the background as Quinn chuckles at the boy's confidence. His smile is a little crooked, as a charming dimple settles on one cheek. The pianist takes a quick onceover, coming to conclusion that he must be Rachel's co-star. And despite all the articles foregrounding his recklessness and partying attitude, Quinn shakes his hand wondering about the flash of recognition in his eyes as he glances back and forth between girls.

"Charlie, but you can call me Quinn. It's nice to meet you."

/

In the coming weeks, the girls have rehearsals and writing sessions. Finishing the song takes longer than it should because their passion for music causes them to become perfectionists.

So even if right now, they're still a little awkward and worried for the remains of their hearts, music is the medium that will always be right, perfect… and theirs. Somewhere in between choruses, bridges and verses, excuses and distractions exist so that they can dawdle, simply to prolong the time together.

Rachel starts to look forward to such moments, as the rest of her life seems to blur. She finds herself in a hurry to get to the studio and somehow sees the potential in taking chances again.

Likewise, Quinn's hands tremble and turn into jelly each time the singer sits near. However the blonde finds that it is easier to forgive the loss of control in exchange for the singer's occasional touch and candid comments. A drawn out lecture about the finer points of Broadway training might just one of the few things that the pianist lives to hear about…

Together, Santana and Lewis watch the scenes. The Latina can't help but smile as the tension dissipates from her shoulders. The girls are in the same room again. Rachel has a light in her eyes that shines brighter when she's talking to Quinn. She even laughs so much that there's a slight tightening in her facial muscles from their overuse. Though, it doesn't matter at all because seconds later, the beautiful sound willingly comes again. Quinn appears serene in everyone's eyes, as she stops worrying about the world. Instead, she simply reacts to the singer, letting her feelings seep through her words and eye contact. She learns to enjoy being around Rachel in the moment. And Santana thinks that this is how it always should have been.

Lewis, on the other hand, seems quietly shocked. His brow slightly furrowed as the gears work in his mind. In due time, he'll ask Santana.

"So…she's Quinn Fabray, huh?"

-Flashback- Drama Class Julliard - First day

It's loud in the classroom. There's that normal level of rowdiness that exists on the first day of school as students try furiously to make some last minute friends, if only so that they didn't have to weather the term alone. Rachel knows that it is a sarcastic view to take, but since that fateful day in Lima she's found it hard to be anything else. Despite her promises to 'be the fun Rachy' to Brittany, the singer just sits in the corner seat, in the back row. She finds herself people watching until she remembers that that's what Quinn liked to do. It was something the blonde was so good at.

So Rachel is grateful when her teacher strides into the room and interrupts her thoughts with a strict and firm tone.

"People! To your seats please."

The woman is conservatively dressed in a loose button up shirt and dress pants. The only indicators of an artistic or rebellious streak are the colourful beaded bracelets and small tattoo on the inside of her wrist. Such an inherent contradiction is the first interesting thing that pierces through Rachel's heartbroken haze in a while. And so, she sits up in her chair thinking that she might actually learn something. She tries hard to ignore the fact that her teacher happens to have a similar shade of blonde hair to Quinn.

"Ok, I'm not going to go through some stupid icebreaker activity just so you children can be on your way to fornicating with each other. Let's just start this class, yeah?"

The response is a chorus of semi-frightened yes responses as everyone looks to each other, not knowing what to make of the bluntness of their teacher. The girls quickly shake it off and pull out their pens and notebooks, their eagerness shining through. Watching, Rachel almost smiles, thinking that once upon a time she would have felt right at home in that mass with such single minded focus. The boys, however, take a little longer to swallow the first sexual remark that pops into their mind upon seeing an attractive individual. Still in the end, the woman is given her due respect.

"Good. My name is Katrina Lawson. Today, we're just going to talk. I'd like to get to know what I'm dealing with when it comes to you lot. So, I'll pose an interesting question, was Shakespeare a romantic?"

Whispers erupt and there seems to be a general consensus for 'yes' however no one speaks out. Katrina smirks, thinking that she really shouldn't be surprised. The students seemed to be opinioned but self-conscious, unwilling to volunteer their thoughts to be dissected by the public. Well that attitude wouldn't last. She would drill it out of them in a matter of weeks because their ability to express themselves was their only link to the audience. The stage was about honesty and a willingness to delve deeper into a character's psyche, thus bringing the script to life. So she tries again.

"How about this, why do we think that Shakespeare was a romantic?"

There's a silence, as most ponder the question. Rachel looks around, finding it surprising that no one really has an answer. For a moment, her mind travels back. Rachel recalls sitting in Quinn's room, relaxing one Sunday. The pianist was reading an old copy of Anthony & Cleopatra for the third time. And the singer had been perplexed, asking why the blonde would do so when she could recite a few of the lines already. That afternoon, Rachel learned more about her girlfriend as Quinn explained the storyline with such a deep reverence for how a couple of flawed characters could fall so perfectly together. Marc Anthony was arrogant. Cleopatra was selfish. Shakespeare somehow managed to make them indispensible to each other's happiness.

A voice is heard above the crowd.

"Because of the way he describes love in his plays."

And it isn't until Katrina looks at her, that Rachel realizes that she had accidentally said something. A scoff sounds from somebody in the front. However for what it was worth, Katrina, herself, is welcoming. She respects anyone who displays enough confidence to say something. And she can't help but be curious about the thickness in the young brunette's tone and the almost tragic quality in her eyes.

"Go on, explain what you mean."

Rachel pauses for a moment. Her eyes dart around as she realizes that all eyes are on her. It occurs to her that she hasn't really thought this through. But as she closes her eyes for a second and hears Quinn's patient voice filter from her memories she feels stronger in her convictions.

"I think that…that anyone who portrays love in all of its colours as something so basic and undeniable has to be a romantic. In all of his works, there are issues such as familial obligations, social standing and civil war but he manages to elevate the relationship of the two leads as something that is almost transcendent. And though the love written about isn't clean cut, laden with lust, trickery and despair, it becomes something that the audience wants and yearns for."

When Rachel is finished, she has to take a deep breath, She surprises herself by getting carried away in the passion of it all; the burst of energy that comes from pushing for something that she believed in. And it was true, wasn't it? She could feel the familiar combination of happiness and pain as a picture of a certain blonde fades in and out of her mind. Rachel isn't really sure what is going on with herself. Walking to class today she wasn't even sure that Julliard was something she wanted anymore. But here, today in the classroom, she's reminded about herself. How a younger Rachel would snatch the toy microphone from her daddy's hand to belt out a Streisand song. So, when she has to explain love and Shakespeare, something that Quinn taught her, she has a moment of lucidity. And as her classmates turn and nod their heads in awe or agreement, Rachel doesn't feel out of place.

These thoughts are interrupted by the much louder scoff from that same place at the front. However this time, as everyone turns to glare or take notice, Rachel actually gets to see the boy making the noise through the mess of bodies. He's tall. Good for him. He's got dark brown hair quite like hers and seems to come from some mixed descent. She wonders if his good looks are wasted on him, as his facial features remain angry, bored and disillusioned. Katrina seems to hesitate. Her gaze flickers to the boy before a sense of resignation crosses her face. She rubs her temples in a tried manner like she's been through this all before.

"Right, ladies and gentlemen I'd like you to meet my TA, Lewis Tanning. Now, he's a bit of a pessimist about all things, but let's ask him what he means…"

There's an unmistakable challenge to her tone. However, Lewis brushes it aside, turning around instead to face Rachel in an exaggerated and indulgent fashion. The singer has to resist the urge to roll her eyes because she not quite sure if she's irritated by his rudeness or amused by his cockiness. Still, the chance to stand up for herself and engage in a bit of debate calls to her bitter angry side and this is the most invested she's been in a while.

"While I respect Miss Whatever-her-name-is opinions on this grand issue. I think she's wrong and a little naïve, don't you think?"

Rachel's jaw clenches at the slight mocking tone but she won't show it. She has been through years with bullies far more talented and far more hurtful. He doesn't scare her. Noticing the fierceness in her gaze, Lewis releases a chuckle as he relaxes a little. It had begun as a simple disagreement, but with the progression of the conversation he can see it. Rachel believes so strongly because her faith lies with the person and not the concept. He just questions how long it will take for experiences to break her out of that hopeful existence.

"Look what I'm saying is that if you really take some time and think about it, Shakespeare was a wolf in sheep's clothing. I mean he wrote plays, supported by a patron right? Queen Elizabeth and King James, just to name a few. So that means that he had an audience to cater for. Maybe, stories about star crossed lovers and their grand gestures just sold better. If we look at the almost extremist way he describes relationships, it doesn't really seem realistic or even honest. He just seems like he is making sardonic remark about love, an emotion that people hold so highly, but in his stories rarely, if ever, is enough to make things work."

There's a gasp as people wait with anticipation. They wonder if the building tension will evolve into an argument or something more. Rachel looks to the teacher, wondering if Katrina would like to step in and redirect the class. However, the woman only seems sad as she glances at her TA. She's not going to try and change Lewis' mind. There's a familiarity mixed in with something else as Katrina looses some of the vigour she started the class with. It takes a minute for her professional mask to return.

It is inexplicable but that change, even if Rachel doesn't quite understand the motives behind it, hurts more than it should. It makes the singer want to take up arms and fight the boy's disheartening words. Love doesn't need a champion or a savior. It is a concept that would probably persevere without Rachel Berry, but sometimes, having help doesn't hurt.

"You're right, Lewis. Shakespeare wasn't realistic. Love that causes rifts in nations and delirium in the individual doesn't often translate to everyday life. But that wasn't really his point was it?"

Rachel asks pointedly. Lewis raises his eyebrow. He appears not to care for her responses but there's just the smallest change in his posture that suggests that he is hanging on her every word. There's the smallest uncertainty that flashes across his face that makes pleas to Rachel to change his mind because he desperately wants to see it from her point of view. His experiences thus far has just taught him not to.

Rachel speaks gently.

"Maybe Shakespeare was simply trying to write about what could happen instead of what is. Because when you plant an idea or a possibility into somebody's mind, it can lead to action. So even if some of his stories have tragic endings, there's no doubt that Romeo and Juliet or Twelfth Night probably inspired a lot of people's dreams of happily ever after."

After that, there's just quiet, as the two seem to stare at each other. With their anger and frustration draining away, there's just stubbornness and blind determination causing them to hold steadfast to their opinions. They recognize the broken in each other's eyes. Softly, Rachel might ask in a pained voice.

"Why don't you believe in love?"

Lewis might shrug despondently before meeting her gaze. He returns with a question of his own.

"Why do you?"

He seems to expect her to back down. That would be the smart move, right? Not to air your past in front of classmates that you've never met. They might mock. They might laugh. They would probably think that you were a little too naïve for your own good... However Rachel is different. She doesn't really mind the whole world knowing. Because, after all the high school achievements and friends, the one thing that still matters most is that fact that she managed to find somebody worth caring for over everything else. Quinn was complex, strong willed and most times aggravating in her sense of right and wrong. However, Rachel felt safe with her. When her college dreams were threatened and her self-esteem troubled, she felt grounded. Like if she made a mistake, she wouldn't be alone. There would be someone to walk the failures with her, kissing her and holding her hand with a supportive smile.

It's not that hard to comprehend and almost impossible to deny. So without a care, she answers questioning gaze of the class.

"Because I met her."

For a moment, there's nothing and then the chatter begins. Still, the singer is deaf to it all she fiddles with an old Polaroid shot. Lewis is quiet and Katrina finally realizes that she's the authority in the classroom. It's funny because even she managed to get lost in the truthfulness of Rachel's words. She thinks from the singer's tone, she can almost imagine the person deserving of it. Though, she won't have much time to dwell, before calling the class to order. With a few sharp sentences, the content of the lesson is directed to something less controversial. However, three people remain changed.

Lewis – because he's angry. The boy is absolutely furious that the freshman had hit the nail on the head. She managed to put a name to his grief: about meeting the right person.

Katrina – because her hands are trembling slightly. She is overcome with concern and worry as the arrival of her newest student threatens to break the fragile peace, bringing people's emotions to the surface.

Rachel – because it is only after voicing her thoughts that she realizes that it will take a while before she can learn how to function without Quinn. It's a painful inevitability and she wonders if she'll see the world in the same way by the end. She'd hate it if she became a cynic.

After class, as Rachel waits on the steps of the performing arts studio for Brittany to finish her day, her thoughts are interrupted by a voice.

"So who was she?"

The singer looks up to the curious gaze of the boy who challenged her all throughout the lesson. He stands proud, however there are flickers in his eyes that grudgingly say that he's sorry. It communicates a softness about him beneath all the bravado, and Rachel is reminded briefly of Puck. But she tries not to think about it, because after leaving Lima she's spoken less to her fellow New Directions members. She remembers Brittany sympathetic gaze when she refused Mercedes's phone call, citing that it just brought back to many memories. She does a lot of things without thinking these days, operating in an inconsolable haze. The name slips out without her knowledge

"Quinn."

"That's it? After all that daring you showed in class, you're only going to give me one word?"

Lewis asks with surprise. He can't seem to match the fierce girl he had seen in class with the despondent one before him. The energy and purpose had been powering her attitude before seemed long gone now. And, he finds that he recognizes the state she's in, with her deadened eyes and slouched posture. How, no matter how hunched her shoulders are, it doesn't feel like its enough to hide and protect her from the world. Her feelings are like a crushing weight. It's what the brokenhearted look like. It's what he, in the privacy of his college room, still looks like. So in a moment of empathy he'll give her some advice.

"You know, whoever she is, she probably doesn't deserve your dedication like that. All people disappoint. Once you figure that out, it won't hurt anymore."

There's a strange sense of kindness to his speech. And when Rachel looks up, there's nothing but pity as they both recognize the lies in his words.

It's later in the year, during the semester break, when Rachel wonders into the performing arts building hoping to get a little extra practice. By now, she'd started to become self-sufficient again. Brittany being pleasantly surprised coming home to the singer slaving over the stove and making a warm meal. The dancer had tears in her eyes, grateful for the improvement. While she had gotten used to preparing food and almost force-feeding Rachel when the singer was in one of her catatonic moods, it always made her sad each time.

Rachel wasn't by all means recovered but she had started to realize that her behaviour was affecting Brittany more than the effervescent girl would ever admit. So she resolved to try harder, to be better. And she was succeeding somewhat. Even though the gaping hole remained in her chest, the nights in which Brittany had to come into her room and rock her to sleep was becoming less and less.

She finds herself humming an old show tune, till the voices of two people fighting catch her attention. It was coming from the ballet studio and Rachel is frozen in her spot. Not because, she had issues against prying or anything like that, but the tone of the voices cause her memories to flood back. There's desperate broken quality to the girl as she asks the boy to walk away from their relationship and her. And there's a defiant cracking hoarseness to the boy as he refuses, trying to convince her of any other way out. He tires to remind her of what's of stake. Rachel's heart rate picks up and her breathing quickens as the voices become louder and begin to overwhelm her fragile control. In her mind, she keeps going back to that night in Lima when hope was absent.

Seeing through the crack in the door, the singer make out two figures but not their faces. The female is trying to move away, as dark tears from messed up mascara stream down her face. Her blonde hair is in complete disarray. Rachel can only imagine how many times the girl has tugged and wrung at it in an effort to establish some sense of self during this turbulent discussion. The guy has his head in his hands and in his disheveled suit; he's the very picture of a man on his knees. But as the girl takes a few steps away, there's something in the air and they share a look of pain and resignation. And like all other couples, everything is understood. I love you. This is it, I'm sorry. So the girl strides back to the boy. She has a hard grip on his hand, as her other comes around his neck. They pull their bodies against each other's, feeling every shudder before they collapse.

Eventually their last moment is played out and without looking back the girl starts for the door. She doesn't really see anything, not the time on the clock or Rachel by the drinking fountain as she hurries away. The singer isn't all that shocked when she realizes that the girl is Katrina Lawson, her teacher: the person who always seemed too young to be a faculty member and too harsh to be without baggage. In due time, the boy comes out. He's had a little more time to pull himself together and manages a brief glance at his surroundings. It's Lewis and Rachel can't help but take in a breath of surprise. In his suit, he looks older than she's ever seen him. And, Rachel knows that he had just lost far more than a girl…

It's quiet, as their eyes meet in the empty hallway. Slowly, they both come to realize something. That, no matter what you believed or how hard you resist, some people leave indelible marks on your heart. And, for a lack of a better reason, it is probably because you loved them more than your desire to remain unhurt.

-End Flashback-

A couple of months down the line; Rachel and Lewis actually became good friends, united by their common ground. In time, he tells Rachel about Katrina.

Lewis explained about how their families were from the wealthier part of New York City, no stranger to high rises and expensive boarding schools. They were 10 years apart. Katrina had been his babysitter and confidant: a capable surrogate big sister. And when his parents fought, which was practically every second night, she would let him stay in her room in the Lawson's penthouse apartment. She would hold him as he fell asleep, whispering that it wouldn't always be like this. That, together they would get out from under their parent's name and influence, to make their own marks on the world. She loved the arts. And, he loved her, so he followed. Things were changing and they were changing. It might've been during the lunch breaks in which she would break into his prestigious high school just to tell him about her day or it could've been the lonely thanksgivings when they refused to go home. But, they fell forcefully together, ignoring the warnings and the reality of their situation.

Lewis spent a lot of years theorizing about the downfall of his longest relationship. With excuses plenty, there was none so honest as the fact that neither he nor Katrina had enough trust in each other's ever changing personalities to make it work. She was always too busy, almost single minded in her need to be taken seriously. She was less and less the girl he knew. Whereas he? He couldn't empathize, in some respects still too young to fathom anything beyond his teenage world. He was always angry and lost, no longer the confident boy who had her concerns at heart. In their last moments, they could read the tiredness in each other's eyes and giving up seemed healthier.

Watching Quinn and Rachel in front of him now, Lewis realizes how wrong he was with his past comments about the unknown ex-girlfriend in Rachel's life. Their relationship was so much unlike his and Katrina's. There was no underlying sense of foreboding, tension and blame.

The girls' interactions were tentative yet welcomed by both. Rachel was willing to forget. And Quinn was willing to let go of her pride and ask for forgiveness.

And he supposed that the most important difference with them was that, neither girl ever lost faith in the person. There were probably times where they thought that love was too hard, too complicated and not at all worth the trouble of looking. But, it didn't really matter. Because, while they might have shut everyone else out or become serial daters, they had a strange sort of confidence in each other's character. There was a belief that Rachel would never become cruel and Quinn would never become flighty.

Of course, Rachel had no illusions. She's knows that Quinn is not the same person. However the amazing thing about it all, was that, come another one or ten years, she's sure that she would still be able to find the unique quirk or use of sarcasm that could make her fall in love with Quinn all over again. It's the one thing that will remain a little too easy.

Lewis smiles to himself. He's happy for Rachel as he notes the mischievous glint in her eye as she changes one of Quinn's melodies. It reassures him how, the pianist is not mad; she's laughing as she plays along and gives Rachel free reign. There's a feeling that she'll do whatever she can to incorporate the singer into her process, as they delight in being in the same space.

"She's…not what I expected."

Lewis manages to utter. His breath catches when the sunlight hits Quinn's lightly coloured hair as she moves in sync with the musical keys of the piano. She really is quite pretty. He's not immune to her charms and he doubts anybody really is. However, that probably doesn't register to her, not with the way she continues to glance at Rachel; humbled, adoring and reverent. Santana does nothing but snicker beside him.

"Don't even let your little boy brain go there."

The instruction is said bluntly, inviting no option to question. Lewis chuckles; unlike Rachel he's always enjoyed Santana's tough as nails attitude. Honesty was so refreshing in a world of euphemisms and the politically correct. And, for a brief interval, they just laugh at the singer's scrunched up faces as Quinn plays an impromptu and comedic rendition of the singer's first single of her newest album.

The piano cover is overly dramatic with pauses tailored specifically for Rachel's scandalized gasp and groans. It's funny because Quinn isn't actually mocking and Rachel isn't actually mad. Instead, there's just a sense of playful mischief in their eyes as the singer makes a grasp for Quinn's hands and a wrestle ensues.

Santana clears her throat, watching her friends find themselves again.

"You know, in high school, everyone took bets about how long they would last. Britts was convinced that they'd end up making babies and getting hitched. I was a bit skeptical. I mean little miss diva and perpetually confused Quinn? How did that even work?"

There is incredulity in her tone as she speaks, her eyes focused on the pair in front of her.

"Ever heard of the idea that opposites attract?"

Lewis offers. Santana sighs before turning around to meet his gaze. There's a sense of certainty in her tone embedded in her quick and pointed responses.

"Sure and whoever came up with that probably had a shitload to drink and woke up next to somebody they thought they hated… but chances are? They're a lot more similar than they've let on."

There's a natural break to the conversation as Lewis tries to discern the truth in her statement.

"That's a little harsh"

It's the only response that comes to mind though he's proud he manages anything at all. Talking to Santana required a quick mind, bravery and a level of sharp wit that he was still working on. It amuses him though, when he watches Rachel and Brittany take control of the Latina. He can only guess at the high school experiences that fostered such trust and willingness to bend. But for now, he simply watches as Santana shrugs, continuing with her thoughts.

"Not really…. At the beginning, I thought it was just about loosing out on the National's title. That maybe, it left Berry a little unstable and Q feeling like shit, like we hadn't accomplished anything. So, they ended going at the option that made the least sense."

Santana wears a nostalgic smile as she lets out a scoff. She had been so off base back then, refusing to see what Brittany already knew. Lewis rubs his jaw absentmindedly before asking.

"Was glee club really that big?"

There's a moment where the question catches the Latina off-guard. It had been a long time since she had explain or defend the activity. She runs her hand through her hair, taking the time to think of a proper response. Mr. Schue must have done something right in his time mentoring the group, because Santana refuses to let New Directions to be misunderstood. Eventually, she finds the words.

"It was to us, because you got to pretend that your social group didn't matter. In high school, that, alone, seemed like a revolutionary concept."

She pauses, looking into the distance. A wistful smirk appears on her face as she remembers trying to get Mr. Schue into a 12-step program for his addiction to vests and competing with Mercedes for the title of having the most attitude. The time spent in the choir room was fun.

"…And I guess it was. I mean, it gave the cheerleaders the chance to apologize to the traumatized geek and footballers the opportunity to date the stuttering wallflower."

Lewis grins. He thinks that he's never seen Santana so respectful of anything before.

"That sounds nice."

The comment was meant to be kind but when spoken out loud, seemed lacking. Lewis tries not to cringe. All it does is elicit a tired eye roll from the Santana, who has grown up enough to ignore the fumble.

"I think that the moment that I thought that their relationship could actually work, was when they were arguing. I don't even remember what it was about… But you know Rachel…"

Santana leaves the statement hanging. They share a smile and Lewis nods. One of the reasons, why Rachel caught his eye to begin with was the passion in her arguments. She had an unwillingness to back down, even as she lost her footing or when evidence started to prove otherwise. And there was always a reason for her doggedness, it was never just to antagonize.

"Well Q isn't that different. I mean she's just a little more genius with her wording. Most of the time, you would've lost the argument before you even started speaking… Q's the only other person I know, that hates losing as much as I do and Britts used to have to keep us back before it came to blows."

There's a warm quality when Santana speaks about Quinn. Her eyes actually soften and she seems calmer. It's nothing like the seemingly endless adoration and patience she gives to Brittany but it's still more emotion than she allocates to anyone else. Lewis wonders about the knowledge swimming in her head about Quinn. A lifetime of shared milestones: tryouts, first boyfriends and planning for prom. Best friends and all. Eventually he clears his throat.

"A Rachel versus Quinn battle huh? So why did that turn you into a believer?"

Santana released a sigh, trying to rub the stress away from her face. The last few days, hell, the last few years had been stressful. She and Quinn had hid their actions from Brittany and Rachel, thinking that all would be well. Oblivious co-existence was the apparent term. The girls would like to think that they've graduated from such immaturity, such stupidity, but as open as they've learnt to be? Sometimes they fight it because they aren't ready, because they don't know what to say and because they're scared. So now, when Rachel and Quinn are in the same room and it doesn't feel like the sky is falling, all Santana can think about is the moment where everyone but herself, thought that it might. The memory sticks out in her mind as she holds Lewis's gaze.

"I realized that they could actually work because they were angry that day, full on yelling. You could tell that Berry had already lost her mind and that Q was biting her tongue to keep from yelling. But, it was a good thing; they were actually trying to hash their problems out. It meant that they were invested enough to let their feelings out and try to fix things."

Santana notes how peaceful the girls had gotten. They'd had finally finished the almost childlike wrestling and now wore tired smiles as they caught their breaths. Rachel had her hand delicately placed on her chest as she tried to retain her composure. She's laughing still, and finds that her eyes won't move from Quinn. For a moment she opens her mouth, about to say something. And when the words don't come, she's met with an understanding gaze. Quinn smiles gently as she reaches out to pick the scrap of lint that had landed in Rachel's hair. She bites her bottom lip as the action brings back memories. They both wonder if they're trespassing the boundaries of friendship. However, as Rachel finds herself leaning into Quinn's touch, they make an exception. They tell themselves that it is just this once.

Santana returns her gaze to Lewis.

"It was more than they've ever done in the past. You see, before they got together, Berry used to do this thing with Finn where she'd manage to delude herself into thinking that everything was peachy keen and that she could talent talk her way out of anything. Whereas Q? Her method was to manipulate the hell out of the first guy who fell for her golden locks."

Lewis mouth opens slightly in surprise. He doesn't quite know what to make of Santana's tone. She speaks her comments as if they're simply facts. There's no judgment, just a quiet acceptance despite the obvious wrongful actions described by her words. Lewis finds himself nodding slowly. There are all those jokes about real friendship and being willing to help bury bodies but Lewis is just now realizing the real life equivalent. So he lets out a slow breath.

"I'm going to guess that they never tried that on each other."

Santana smiles warily.

"No…they didn't, but, after that? I put my money on those two."

It's funny; because Santana never quite realized the truth of her words till this conversation. In an effort to be supportive she had forced herself to be ok with the fact that the blonde seemed content to ignore Rachel, to live in pea sized Lima, Ohio. Santana had clamped down on her desire to berate Quinn's seeming chicken attitude. But despite it all, if you asked her what the endgame was, it'd be the same answer since high school: Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. A disbelieving laugh escapes. Because honestly, what if at 18 years you found somebody that you were extremely attached to. And while you aren't dumb or innocent enough to say that you love everything about that person, you are just all too willing to work through of the faults and errors. It doesn't really happen in real life. But, humor her this once and ask: what if it did? And a future together was the only thing that you could imagine…

"So who actually won the bet?"

Lewis's voice is quiet but curious. Santana huffs.

"None of us."

"What?"

At Lewis's exclamation, Santana looks away. Her voice is thoughtful as she flips through the contracts in her folder.

"Half of us didn't think that high school would be the end for the two of them. And I guess if it was, the other just didn't want to believe it.

There's a lull in the conversation before Lewis's chuckles break the peace. There's warmth in his eyes as he speaks in a slightly teasing tone.

"What do you know, Santana Lopez, an optimist…"

The Latina rolls her eyes but small smile appears for a brief second.

"Shut up."

Lewis pretends to zip his mouth shut before standing up.

"Well time to get to work!"

The boy is met with a confused glare. However instead of being frightened, he simply grins.

"Come on, it is clearly our job to get the lovebirds together again."

The exuberant comment causes Santana to groan, pinching the bridge of her nose. She ignores Lewis's excited planning as her gaze lands on Rachel and Quinn by the instruments. Sometime during her discussion with Lewis, the girls had given up pretenses of work and they're simply talking to each other. Rachel is gesturing to punctuate her words, almost unable to stay still in her enthusiasm. Quinn is seated cross-legged on the piano stool, the picture of content. Her back is not it's usual ramrod straight as it loosens slightly so that her arms lie comfortably in her lap. It's so natural, when her hand accidentally grazes the singer's knees as she laughs at a joke. The image is beautiful and when Santana directs her attention back to Lewis, she notices how the boy has a sharpie and a notepad, already jotting out various ideas and shenanigans to give the girls more of a chance. The first few lines talk of ridiculous ideas involving handcuffs and a locked room and the second half of the page doesn't fare much better. Santana looks up tiredly to the ceiling.

"I need to stop talking to Berry's friends."

Still, in the end she lets herself be dragged away. And as Lewis continues to come up with plans, Santana pulls out her phone. Her hand hovers of the green call button, feeling the stress fade from her shoulders as she lifts the device to her ear. She's glad for the chance to finally be honest.

"Hi Britts? I need to talk to you, it's about Q…"

The phone call is mostly quiet as Santana explains everything: how she had gotten the pianist to migrate to New York and how Quinn and Charlie were the same person. She apologizes for lying and keeping secrets, steeling herself to deal with the repercussions. So when she finishes talking there's a pause and it almost causes Santana to worry. But Brittany doesn't yell, break down or say things out of spite. She simply takes time to process her thoughts but before she does, the words are automatic and sincere as they leave her mouth. She still holds Santana's worries first.

"San, I'm not mad."

The Latina closes her eyes in relief. She doesn't hurry or demand anything. And soon enough, she'll hear a sigh on the other end and the tense period is over. Santana thinks that she can hear the smile in Brittany's tone when she asks if Rachel and Quinn are still as good together as they once were… She laughs after Santana mutters the words.

"Like PB and jam."

/

The song gets written and reluctantly the girls spend some time apart. They're thrust back into their previous lives where Rachel is dealing with her managers, record label and the paparazzi. Likewise, Quinn has to return to Lima to check the accounts of the café and visit her godson. It surprises the girls that just a few days together, only several hours in a studio can feel like normal. It feels like something that they'd miss.

/

"So, should I be expecting green eyed Berry babies anytime soon?"

Without looking up, Quinn puts down her folder and pen. She runs a nervous hand through her hair, letting out a slow breath. Santana stays in her spot, leaning on the doorjamb to the café's back room. Her arms are crossed, insistent in her expectation of an answer. Gone is her usual office attire and she's just wearing fitted jeans and a black button up shirt rolled up to the elbows. Her eyes are tired and it feels as if the clothes are a comment of her reason for being there. In this moment, she's a friend and not a business partner.

Quinn can hear it in Santana's voice: the rare tentativeness to the question. However, the first response that comes to mind is a reflexive fact learned during high school biology.

"Green eyes are recessive."

There's a pause and it takes her a second to process her own words. She has the grace to be embarrassed as her blush travels down her neck and her heart races that little bit faster. However, Quinn doesn't backtrack or try to take any of it back. She has learnt the impulsive, reckless moments are perhaps the most honest, before thinking gets in the way and hopeful attitudes are returned to their cages. Santana rolls her eyes at the science speak. Sometimes she's still caught off-guard by the small comments that slip from the pianist's mouth, they're often not thought out, nonsensical and entirely uncool. Because, when Quinn is given room to change, she's witty without her biting sarcasm and she's original, so much more than people ever gave her credit for. The most important thing that remains is that she is still taken when Rachel's voice comes alive on the radio. Santana places a set of documents in front of her friend.

"Here, the papers for that loft downtown. It's a big place and it's all yours. If you're really going to stay New York, I have the pricing set, all you gotta do is sign it."

Quietly, Quinn reaches for the contracts. And when her hand makes contact, she can feel Santana's grip on the other side of the sheets. Quinn finally meets the Latina's gaze and they respect the gravity of the moment. The pianist clears her voice and whispers.

"Thanks."

"Sure."

The response is instant and easy. Santana looks to the side, shrugging the gratitude away. It always felt alienating when Quinn did this; inject more emotion than necessary. It reminds Santana of how they weren't built for this, but because of their experiences and the people that surround, they try for different. Occasionally, they're rewarded but most of the time they revert to their old habits, a grunt and careless wave of acknowledgement. This time, Quinn's fingers slip around the Latina's wrist, catching her in her turn away. The friends almost stare, until the words interrupt their thoughts.

"No really Santana. Thank you…for putting up with me, for getting me through this."

Santana swallows, making a slight nod. She tries not to make light of the situation because the times in which she's seen that look in Quinn's eyes can be named only on one hand. The first occurred when Santana had caught up to the blonde after Quinn had delivered her first slushee. Hazel eyes bored into hers, asking for some sort of guidance. The second time, was when she had forcefully told the pianist that no amount of dictates would say otherwise, they were going to UCLA together. And the last time, was right after Quinn orchestrated her transfer to NYU. Santana refused to see it at the time, but it was what she didn't know she needed.

So now, as that same look strikes a chord, Santana decides to direct the attention away, to the more important topic at hand. Her voice seems loud in the empty room.

"So, how did it feel to talk to Berry again?"

Quinn eyes are closed when she manages to speak.

"Frightening."

Santana raises her eyebrows, surprised by the admission. The pianist bites her bottom lip as she looks away, talking mostly to herself.

"She's changed."

"Well, what did you expect Q?"

"I don't know."

A silence descends. Santana watches Quinn's fingers, how they would twist, pull and push at each other, as their owner seems unable to come up with the eloquent answer she expects. Quinn's eyelids flutter with frustration and Santana jumps in. The Latina slides into the guest chair, trying not to frown at the creaking noise that comes about.

"I guess it doesn't really matter. But, the question is, if this version of Berry still gets your engine going."

And Quinn finds herself easily distracted by the memories of the past few days. There were times where she missed the world of black and white, where the right decision was practically set out. She didn't know why she expected her thoughts to be clear-cut. They never were with Rachel before and they certainly aren't now. She'll always feel a little more than she expects and worry a little less than should. Quinn tries to work through it as her mind lingers on the differences between then and now.

"Rachel, she's stronger now: better with her words… maybe even better than me."

Santana looks up at the concession. There was no self-deprecation in Quinn's comment, simply a small sense of pride for the singer that she doesn't know if she has the right to express. There's a sense of surrender, as Quinn smiles gently and finally meets the Latina's gaze.

"It's interesting, yesterday when we were talking… it almost felt like she was the one taking care of me."

The statement lingers and Santana finds herself giving Quinn a sympathetic smile. She imagines that getting to know Rachel in the now is a constant war, as the pianist's mind clings to old memories whilst her heart unmistakably falls again for the current singer. It's not picking up where they left off but it isn't starting all over either. In their interactions, Rachel is grounded and social in a manner that she never was in high school. She can quip, banter and be strangely diplomatic. And when Quinn watches her interviews, the singer's ability to manage a crowd is obvious. There's a moment, when she's unsure about her place in Rachel's new life, not when they'd finally learned how to survive separately. But the panic passes, and they both adapt and depend on each other in a new way. They find that they still complement each other. Rachel still leads the conversation with her enthusiastic passions, except now she's caught by surprise because Quinn emotions are voluntary and very much painted on the surface for the world to see. On the other hand, Quinn still holds onto her gallant acts and quietly composed etiquette, but Rachel finds that she understands more about the things that aren't always said out loud. I love you. Please forgive me. So maybe it is because they're older, but the anticipation of what happens next isn't enough to stop them from trying anymore.

"Don't screw it up this time."

Those are the only words said as Santana shakes her head resignedly, staring at the space outside of the office. A few people walk into the café: a grandmother, a policeman and a high school student. They all wear frowns and a hurt in their eyes that they can't seem to shake. And, in the end they're just hoping for someone to talk to.

Quinn follows her friend's gaze, recognizing the patrons with a sad smile. The seriousness of the scene is sobering, because they've both been there: unsure and broken.

"Well Q what are you waiting for? Go be their sponsor."

Quinn looks up to see Santana's reassuring smirk. The two give each other an imperceptible nod and she mutters softly as she stands up.

"Thanks"

/

The night of the song's debut performance is frantic, exhilarating and a mixture of emotions. The behind the scenes crew runs around with strange heavy equipment and clipboards with too many tasks to complete. There's a nervous energy abound as they worry whether they'll get the stadium set up in time. Quinn leans on a large speaker by the soundstage and not for the first time since seeing Rachel again, she feels out of place and a little redundant. In her wildest imagination she never thought that the performance world would be like this. Everything was fast-paced and it was in the rush, that all the small elements caused everyone to come alive.

Santana was off to the side with a Bluetooth glued to her ear, ranting to the person on the line. She looks frustrated with one hand perched on her hip and the other pinching the bridge of her nose. It amuses Quinn, when her friend tries to take deep breaths to calm herself. The action never did work in the past but it always used to please Brittany and Rachel when the girls attempted to control their ire before they snapped. So now they find that when they're furious and wanting to throw something, they stop and breathe. And despite the stress of the surroundings tonight, Santana looks confident as she glares at the contracts in front of her and gestures wildly to the air.

On the actual stage is Brittany, who stops whatever complicated dance move she was doing to wave animatedly to the pianist. Quinn laughs and responds in kind. She remembers her first meeting with the dancer a few days ago, after Santana had broken the news about their adventures penning songs. It was a relief, not keeping secrets. Quinn finds that she missed her friend more than she expected. She's almost sad that she wasn't there for Brittany's changes, for when they met again in New York the person in front of her is matured but still so kind. There was a sparkle in Brittany's blue eyes that showed that the dancer seemed conscious of her own wisdom and above it all she knew when to wield it. During their dinner, Brittany had walked up to Quinn, with a grin that seemed too genuine to belong to any adult. And in their expensive background of shiny glass pieces and intricately patterned ceramic plates, she had hugged Quinn tightly, lifting her slightly off her feet and twirling them around. Their full-bellied laughter and chatter had probably interrupted the other patrons but they paid no heed. Brittany wanted to know everything about Quinn's experiences in college and in Lima. She demands almost immediately to visit the pianist's café, insisting that the availability of ice cream and curly fries at the establishment was a must. Quinn finds that by the end of the night she had memorized all of the dancer's suggestions.

Brittany talks about learning dance at Julliard and being the youngest student to be offered a choreography position as a director of a music tour. She raves about how nice Beyonce is and how amazing it was to finally meet the person behind some of their glee covers done in High School. Quinn has fun learning the full single ladies dance after dinner. They take off their heels and move delightedly barefoot in the pianist's hotel room. By the end of the night, it's almost as if the time apart in college didn't happen. Santana comes in after her long day in the office, and they're the unholy trinity once more.

Quinn eventually turns away from her friend, letting Brittany continue her practice session. She can almost hear the dancer's patient tones as she corrects somebody's footwork or lift. And, in the midst of all the preparation and activity, Quinn finds herself alone with her thoughts. She wanders towards the piano that would later be moved to the main area. It's a pretty instrument: a black Yamaha grand piano. It is very much like the one in her bedroom; too much like the she taught Rachel on. There's a flood of memories as Quinn pushes down on a key. It has perfect pitch. The blonde smiles wistfully. She really should have known that Rachel checks everything thrice.

So she takes a seat on the stool, and observes. She wonders if she fits in a world of such bright lights, because when it comes to Rachel Berry, nothing is halfway. Quinn lets the chatter and intercom orders flow through her. It is nothing like the slow peace she's gotten used to in Lima. And suddenly there's a burst of extra noise. When Quinn looks up, she sees Rachel walk out of her dressing room. The singer is in a silk robe and her makeup and hair is only half done. With eye shadow only present on one side and uncontrolled dark curls falling over her eyes, she's confident with power emanating from her movements. Gorgeous and beautiful, are words that will never do the scene justice, and instead Quinn feels like she should stand or do something. After all, nobody simply sits still in the face of extraordinary.

Rachel is surrounded by a ring of personal assistants, studio representatives and people with mascara brushes, most of whom she manages to ignore. And maybe, not everything that is real has to be tangible, because the singer feels the urge to look up despite the 360-degree cries for her attention. When she does, warm hazel eyes bore into hers and for the first time in a while, she's breathless again despite her lung capacity. She can feel it, how pulses quicken and mouths suddenly feels dry. The atmosphere feels electric. Her lips part to say so. But, they're more than several meters away and her staff pulls her away to the next crisis and the next task.

The last thing Quinn catches is Rachel's apologetic glance before she disappears from sight. It's all right tough. The pianist finds the break helpful to gather her thoughts. That's when she hears it, a thump in the back room. Curiosity draws her to the door and she finds a man with greying hairs and large brown frames on the floor. He has long multicolored computer cords wrapped around his hand and an exasperated expression on his face as he fiddles with the inputs of the speaker machinery.

"You're new."

The comment is thrown out without even glancing up. He has raised eyebrows and mischievous expression. Quinn finds herself smiling, as she straightens up from her position by the door to extend her hand.

"Charlie, well technically Quinn. It's nice to meet you."

For a moment, the man seems confused by the gesture. In the hustle and bustle of the entertainment business, so few people had the time to show manners. So he savors it, shaking the pianist's hand with a motion that is a little rusty.

"Ah, the writer. People around here call me Rick."

There's warmth in his actions that puts the pianist to ease. The way he ambles around despite his age, is impressive and something to be respected. He possesses a childlike zest unmatched by those younger then him. Quinn finds a seat on one of the boxes, watching his seemingly continuous work, of buttons and multiple wires. However, there's a brief moment where he slows down and ponder something.

"Uh wait. I misspoke. Miss Pierce actually calls me Grandpa Rick, and Miss Lopez calls me old-timer. Odd pair, those two..."

Quinn laughs at his comment, shaking her head in amusement. She's grateful for the two in her life, they seem to be a measure of dependability amongst everything else. Soon, she's roused out of her thoughts by a bundle multi-colored rods being waved in front of her face.

"Here, hold onto this for me would you?"

And as Quinn does as she's told, placing the blue cord into the top right corner, she hears Rick whistle one of her songs, sung by another artist. She's shocked that he knows it, but that warm recognition in his eyes tells her that she shouldn't be.

It's a laid-back tune. When she wrote it she had been thinking about the few events in her life when she felt as if the world was dreamlike, catering to her every unspoken hope. In the song, the protagonist has a person by their side and they're doing nothing but holding hands, sitting along a riverbank and talking about futures.

Towards the end of the song, Rick clears his throat before asking kindly.

"So how come with all the great things going on, you're in here, hanging out with me?"

Quinn chuckles. She imagines being out there, in the rush. Her heart picks up and she finds herself running a hand absentmindedly through her hair. And it's worrying because she swears that she's not a coward.

"I didn't know what to do out there."

"This your first rodeo?"

The question comes softly from the seasoned old man. And as Quinn nods, he has a sympathetic gaze as hands he another set of chargers and plugins. They work quietly and in harmony. The pianist learns a lot about sound technology. Somehow in the quiet moment, Quinn has something to do. Eventually Rick speaks again.

"Quinn, folks here, they've all got their orders. From the makeup people to the roadies who are responsible for the heavy lifting and everything else, we're a team. As in, Rachel relies on us. She trusts that when she goes on stage that everything will be as it should be: the microphone will work and the spotlights won't blind her."

The blonde is rapt with attention. Rick makes sure that her eyes are one his when he warmly tells her the last fact.

"It's the same as how Rachel feels about you."

"What?"

The question slips out faster that Quinn can process it. Rick shrugs off her surprise, expecting the resistance. He always found it entertaining how when people were right in the middle of something, they had so many blind spots. It was like your emotions actually had the ability to convince you that you didn't see the elephant in the room or the train coming your way. However, Rick loves Rachel like a daughter and he respects Quinn within seconds of meeting her, so he sets about correctly their line of sight, helping them see the important things.

"Well Rachel trusts you to help her come up with a song that will challenge her vocal range and make her look good. So, she must really believe in your ability to create a song or a piece of music that helps her say something, right?"

Something flashes in the blonde's eyes and for a moment it looks a lot like a mixture of pride and gratitude. Then, her memories kick in and the residual guilt returns. She's conflicted again and it is hard to stay brave and refuse the tears that threaten to come. She feels a hand pat her shoulder comfortingly. He gestures to the crates on the left and ensures that she takes a seat. When they're comfortable, he starts.

"Listen, I've been with that girl since her first big show."

His first statement tells Quinn that she's in good company; she's with somebody else that cares deeply for the singer. After all, under the force of that brilliant smile and compassionate personality, Quinn has failed to come with any reason why you wouldn't. However instead of losing her composure, Quinn meets Rick's gaze and waits for him to speak. She wants to learn about Rachel. She needs to know if she's enough to stay in Rachel's world. Rick continues.

"Rachel doesn't trust a lot of people with her music. I mean: the brand, the movies and the endorsements, sure. But, her albums? Her lyrics? I think that once, she told Miss Lopez that she would rather walk away from the whole thing than work with somebody she doesn't trust."

His last statement resounds. And Quinn swallows thickly, feeling the weight of the past few weeks. She remembers the openness at which the singer had let her play and manipulate her melodies. The pianist recalls the concessions Rachel made during their disagreements on lyrics. And the honest admittance after, that Rachel actually thought that Quinn had the better idea, a stronger grasp on the song.

There was no hesitance when she penned the pianist's writing pseudonym, Charlie, with a flourish on the musical score. In that moment, something had finally felt right.

"So, if it's about fitting in, you're worried about. I wouldn't even think about it because she obviously thinks that you belong here."

Rick leans down and whispers before looking over Quinn's shoulder and smiling. The pianist closes her eyes, waiting for what the raised hairs on her neck and quickened pulse was already telling her.

"Hellow Quinn, is the seat taken?"

With that, Rachel enters Quinn's line of sight. She stands, waiting for permission and the pianist finds herself speechless. If, her brain had just been a little more absent and her muscles a more disobedient, Quinn was quite sure she would have reached out to touch the singer's hand, face, waist…something. She might have even fallen to her knees. It seemed like the only sensible thing to do when Rachel stood with flawless mascara and a perfectly crafted silk dress that emphasized her figure. The singer was beautiful, temporarily making Quinn forget that how to communicate with anything other than a reverent gaze.

"I'll leave you two alone for a while."

Rick excuses himself, with an amused grin. Rachel finally sits in the spare space next to Quinn when the blonde finally returns and she shuffles aside for the singer. They don't talk about Quinn's lack of speech or the red flush underlying Rachel's cheeks at the attention. Instead after a small pause, Rachel finally asks the question that's been on her mind.

"Did you have a good trip in Lima?"

Quinn releases a sigh of relief at the question. She tries not to miscomprehend it as anything more than friendly curiosity. It was hard because whilst she had been Lima, her thoughts about Rachel were never brief, always infused with more than a simple desire to see the singer again.

"Yeah, I had a few things to take care of… Your fathers miss you."

There's a quiet and Quinn wonders if she's overstepped. She wasn't sure if her time with Rachel's parents had been a fair or even right, but she craved the connection. Was that understandable? They had never talked much about Rachel, neither side felt inclined. However when Quinn sat down opposite Hiram or Leroy and they nodded softy, before going on to some random topic, it meant that Rachel was all right. It meant that the singer was the closest thing to happy she could be in the moment and Quinn could breathe. So the pianist doesn't know what to expect, however the thing about Rachel Berry was that she's always been able to surprise the blonde.

Rachel nods to herself, before responding. She already knew.

"Thanks for keeping them company when I couldn't."

Quinn's eyes widen, looking up to meet the singer's gaze. Rachel has a knowing look and a shy smile. Her expressions haven't changed all that much, still more than capable at putting Quinn at ease. And the pianist returns the smile, she doesn't ask for forgiveness because it isn't needed. Instead she just manages to whisper a small word that sound a lot like a promise.

"Always."

There's a pleasant silence and they both tune their hearing to the world outside of the sound tech room. They could hear the crackling of headsets and speakers, glad to be away from it all. They don't tell each other that this is the most comfortable they've felt in years, doing absolutely nothing and finally not feeling lonely. Quinn finds herself chuckling at the situation.

"You know Lima is so proud of you. Your new single plays in the lunchroom and the glee club have done a cover of quite a few of your songs."

Rachel doesn't say anything however there's a way she rubs her neck, which says that she's embarrassed. She's not interested in the millions. However the way Quinn speaks, it reminds Rachel that the blonde is a part of Lima and maybe, just maybe, Quinn was speaking about herself too.

Quinn doesn't really know where she's going with this; she just wants Rachel to know the truth, that she's beautiful, talented and wanted. The next statement, sounding so much like a confession, slips from her lips.

"I think McKinley's whole male population is in love with you a little bit."

"Are you?"

The question comes without thought and the two girls hold each other's gaze. Quinn breathes deeply. Emotions swirl in her eyes and she's not sure if it's prudent to answer the question. They were just starting to be around each other again and love was such an undue pressure. In the time apart, she's learnt that it didn't need to be said aloud to be true.

Likewise, Rachel is trying to understand the words that come out of her mouth. Her heart is racing and she's hasn't felt this scattered since her debut. Normally she loves it when thoughts go away and emotions take the wheel. However with each passing second, she's less certain she'd know what to do with the answer, whatever it was.

Instead, she shakes her head exasperatedly.

"I'm…I'm sorry... my brain and…."

Quinn schools her features. She finds that even if it wasn't the right time, it was difficult to stamp down the disappointment at the loss of opportunity. There's another deep breath and a firmer headshake as Rachel fixes a focused look on her face. She mutters adorably to herself.

"Friends. Ok."

There's nothing to suggest that she's succeeding, but despite everything, they find humour in her attempts, sharing a laugh. As it dies down, Rachel whispers to the empty room.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I'm nervous tonight?"

Quinn tilts her head curiously.

"You don't get anxious, Rachel."

And it's true. Rachel has never felt jitters about a performance, only towards the background drama and stories around it. She wouldn't give it up though because since her childhood music and life has always bled together. Romance was so often weaved into the bridges and personal challenges propelled the chorus with strength and a sense of unity. They were the glee club and nothing was insurmountable. So Rachel tries to be brave because she never thought that she would be still able to feel Quinn in her lyrics and mind. She manages to confess.

"…I was around you. When you were in cheerios uniform arguing with me, when you watched me in glee as I sang, as if you didn't dislike me as much as you let on… and when you held my hand so proudly down the hallway in school. I got so nervous."

It's the truth in the singer's voice that shows Quinn that she's not as strong as everyone makes her out to be. A tear slips down her face and it isn't sad, because their past is good: from the moments in the choir room to the nighttime walks by the park. It is the thing that sometimes still helps them sleep at night and try again, with somebody different and somebody new.

Quinn whispers softly.

"I'm sorry."

The apology is short but wrought with pain. Rachel smiles wistfully; reaching up to brush Quinn's bangs back.

"You shouldn't be."

Somehow, Rachel stops herself at the last second, to remind herself: friendship. They were trying for platonic. She wasn't ready for anything else, or at least, that's what her rational side tells her. She pretends not to see the sadness that flashes into the pianist eyes and Quinn lets her. The blonde straightens, leaning back from the intimacy of their closely positioned faces. She tries to be less of a temptation.

The act is sweet and heartbreaking. They both look into the distance, afraid that the small grain of peace and control would disappear entirely if they pushed. Quinn even thinks about standing and going to Santana, to give up and give in. But she doesn't. Instead, her mind replays the pledge she made to the singer the first time. I won't (walk way)… if you won't.

Rachel seemed to understand the memory as she clears her throat and easily holds the pianist's attention.

"I know that it's hard right now. For the first time in a while, we don't know what to do around each other and how to be, but I just want you to know. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad it's you."

Quinn doesn't say a thing. She simply slips her hand into Rachel's and squeezes comfortingly. And the singer can't help but feel protected, convincing and ready to take on the world.

They both recognize that it was easier at the start, when the joy of seeing each other again pushed everything from their minds. They forgot how deeply they cared, and just settled on being whatever they could, a singer and her writer, a tentative friend.

The moment is later interrupted by Santana's voice but to her credit she actually does look apologetic.

"Hey Rachel we've got a problem."

/

"Dammit, Lewis, are you freaking insane? You decide to go skinny dipping in what has got to be one of the most bacteria infested places the night before a PR performance?"

Santana bellows down at the conference-calling device. Her eyes flash with rage and distaste and she fights with herself not to throw something. Instead, she keeps her hand planted firmly on the glass table as she leans over the microphone input. In the last half an hour, the girls had retired to the meeting room to take Lewis's phone call.

He had called with a nasally and cracked voice and the constant sounds of tissue blowing. Rachel tries not to cringe at the squelching sounds as Lewis tries to clear the sputum, whereas Brittany and Quinn hold straight faces. They simply wait and weather their friend's tirade. The familiar furious and vicious tones roll off them, as they understand that Santana is already using her least destructive outlet.

Rachel seems tired as she massages her temples. They had been at this for the last several minutes and she starts to feel the stresses weigh in.

"Santana, can you please calm down, I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose."

The plea is said in resignation to the situation. The Latina simply rolls her eyes dryly. She thinks that she always knew that taking on that boy, as a client, would give her an ulcer. But no, Brittany and Rachel had stared her down with their combine wide eyes and pouting lips.

"Of course he didn't. If he did, he knows that I'd have his empty head on a platter! He's just stupid. God, we have so many people out there!"

Santana sighs, dropping to down on her seat. Lewis's apologies go unheard in the background, as the residents of the room look towards each other. Brittany had her bottom lip between her teeth in thought and Quinn was already looking at the musical score, trying to see a change in the music that would make sense. Santana flips through the itinerary, trying to find room in the timetable for a contingency. Rachel comes to the center of the room, leaning against the desk.

"Ok. Look, let's just focus on trying to fix this or at least come up with a way around it. It's too late to cancel. So suggestions?"

There's nothing but silence and Santana's muttered curses. Eventually. Quinn asks from her position in the corner.

"Rachel how are you feeling?"

The brunette is caught off guard by the soft kindness in the question.

"I'm a bit surprised by all this, but I'm fine."

Quinn nods at the response, pushing off from the wall. She has the musical score in hand and a pencil in the other. It's a strange thing because she's not in one of Santana's power suits or Rachel's glamorous dresses yet she manages to be the lead in her light blue button up shirt and darkened jeans. Her back is straight and amidst the troubles and indecision in the room, she can be the person that isn't lost. Similar to back then, she can still be composed and a quiet hero.

"Listen, I think that I can rework the song into a solo for tonight's performance. I just have to change a few bars and the wording."

For a while, the girls all look at each other, waiting for a reaction. It's been a while since Quinn's voice organized them and it has the same effect as it always did. Squabbles were put aside and arguments were thrown away. The blonde is graceful under pressure. Santana runs through the agreement with the ticketing agency, and is the first to respond.

"That could work."

Brittany claps happily, walking around to give each of the girl's a hug. When the dancer's arms are around Rachel, the singer finds vosopm trapped on Quinn. Their eyes meet and the air is charged. Once again, a conflicted expression favors the pianist's features before it disappears. Quinn nods to Rachel, as she turns away to carry out her task. Her hand is almost on the door when the singer's voice calls her to a stop.

"Wait. Quinn. How's your voice?"

There's a hesitance to Rachel's speech: a vulnerability to rejection from the unspoken question. Santana looks up in shock, her gaze flickering between the two girls, whilst Brittany simply smiles. She takes a seat next to Santana and helps the Latina with her papers, not needing to watch the scene. When their fingers brush, there's a promise for more when they're back at their apartment.

"No, Rachel. I can't sing with you out there."

Quinn's worried words cut across the room as she turns around with wide eyes. For the first time, Rachel sees a very real fear in the blonde's face. And, without her control, she's walking over, stopping right in front of Quinn.

"Hey. Hey. Hey… Quinn, listen to me ok?"

Escaping both their notice, Rachel has one hand around the back of Quinn's neck holding their foreheads together and the other naturally holding the pianist's waist. The singer pauses, looking up to meet hazel eyes. She forgets to breathe. And with only centimeters between them, she whispers fiercely, powerfully, and lovingly.

"This is nothing. Close your eyes and remember nationals. It's just you, and me, and we're in front of an audience. We're ok."

They're so close and remain so as an unsure nod comes from Quinn. She's dazed, not quite sure what she just agreed to. However she finds that in such close proximity and with Rachel's perfume still lingering, she doesn't care. She was willing. God help her, she would do anything.

Just ask her.

/

When it's time, Rachel walks first to center stage. She seems confident and unless you were one of three girls, you wouldn't think twice. However, Brittany recognizes the lack of Rachel's normal fluidity in her walk. The singer seemed to almost bounce as her heels pushed off, excited and happy. Santana could pinpoint the way Rachel's hand seemed almost white in its grip on the microphone. Whilst Quinn, she didn't need to analyze, she thinks that she can feel Rachel's exhilarated state as it is reflected in herself.

"Hi everybody. Thank you for being such a great audience so far. Let's give Allison Creek a round of applause for the great opener."

The decibel of the sounds of hands coming together is astounding. The crowd was eager in their exuberance for Rachel and for the most part, it was as if the singer fed off their energy in a natural symbiosis. She's where she's supposed to be as she touches the hands of the fans vying for her attention in the front row.

"So tonight, I know that you're expecting and hoping to hear the new song off my new movie with Lewis Tanning! And I'd love to give you that. But, Lewis has gone and gotten himself sick."

A wave of grumbles flow through the arena. Rachel isn't fazed as she shakes her head with a brilliant smile.

"I know. I know. Such terrible timing isn't it? Now, between you and me, I don't think that he'll ever make it up to you but we'll make him try the next time we see him won't we?"

The crowd roars in agreement, laughing at Rachel's joke and conspiring wink. Quinn is taken, because the thousands had already forgiven the petite singer in seconds. It's a testament to Rachel's character and likeability.

"Now we wouldn't leave you high and dry. I have Charlie with me tonight. She's penned most of the hits of 2011 and 2012! We remember Hostage of Love and The Brokenhearted, don't we?"

The spotlight quickly falls on Quinn and the blonde is unsure and still. She's almost comes undone the attention. There's a gap before the recognition, and then, the crowd cheers. It is so loud, their adoration obvious. Quinn even hears her song being sung as Rachel holds her microphone to the voice a young girl at the front. The girl couldn't be more than 13 years as she and Rachel sung a few lines of the chorus. And Quinn doesn't know how to stop the tears from coming as the weight disappears from her shoulders and Rachel's brown eyes hold hers, communicating warmth, devotion and encouragement.

"Well, she wrote this new song for the movie, and tonight, you're going to hear us both sing it!"

Lewis seemed like a far and forgotten person as the enthusiasm of the arena continues. Rachel smiles as she adjusts the earpiece to sit better for the performance. When it does, she walks over to Quinn, who still seemed reserved.

Quinn is nervous and she's just terrified that she'll disappoint. However, her rapid thoughts slow when Rachel once again stands in front of her. The singer has one hand extended, waiting. For just a second, they're back at prom. However this time, this time there is nothing but trust and love when Quinn places her hand in Rachel's, letting the singer walk her to the piano. The crowd finally quiets as they realize that it is almost the beginning. And in the brief moment of quiet, Rachel takes the time to whisper.

"Quinn, are you sure you want to do this? It's not too late."

Even if the pianist was uncertain, with that question, her fears fade to the back of her mind. She meets Rachel's gaze and nods softly because the singer was still putting her first. Rachel would guard her emotions. So, she places her fingers on the keys and starts the slow purposeful notes.

Six on the second hand till New Year's resolutions

There's just no question what this girl should do

Quinn's voice trembles and her soft alto leave an impression, perfect in its poignant story telling. She manages to infuse the lyrics with the confusion and depression entitled by her character. Rachel smiles at the appropriate change of gender. She wonders if the media can tell that she's completely and utterly captivated by the way the pianist's fingers move so elegantly or that she could tell you about the emotions that that curtain of blonde hair was hiding. And soon, it doesn't really matter, because Quinn is completely open in her next lines, heavy with guilt and apologies.

Take all the time lost, all the days that I cost

Take what I took and give it back to you

The girls recall the time apart. The misery is at the forefront and it's the first time they've actually acknowledged it instead of just ghosting over it. They had been afraid that if one of them mentioned the truth, all their interactions would fall apart. Rachel might still be angry with Quinn and Quinn might still not be whole enough to stay. However, the lyrics are honest and for a moment they question just how much of themselves they placed into the song. Gradually, the pianist's voice filters in again.

All this time we were waiting for each other

All this time I was waiting for you

We got all these words, can't waste them on another

So I'm straight in a straight line running back to you

Every word is slow, certain and deliberate. Quinn's breath catches as she looks across the stage to meet Rachel's gaze. She wants to stop, before it gets to serious and they can't come back from it. However, it's been a long time since they've felt so much and been so close, that they shrug common sense away. In doing so, they both acknowledge that it isn't a game.

Rachel starts the next verse, hoping that her voice represents her character's and not her own. But it is increasingly hard. She can hear their love story in the song and it is compelling, forcing them to voice the secrets that they didn't want to say.

I don't know what day it is, I had to check the paper

I don't know the city but it isn't home

It had happened so many times on the long tours. Rachel would wake up eat breakfast, do rehearsals and perform, without noticing the time, date or place. One year, she had woken up to candles and cake; unsure as to whose birthday they were celebrating until Brittany told her that it was her own. Somehow in the frantic progression in her career, she lost direction, happily giving in to the tiring choreography and sleepless encores just to numb her thoughts of the pianist. The after-concert alcohol did an excellent job freezing her mind, but she couldn't find a cure for the pain in her chest, not with the girls or the boys. Her only reprieve had been the songs that Charlie had written.

You say I'm lucky to love something that loves me

But I'm torn as I could be wherever I roam

Rachel looks away to the crowd, unable to continue looking at Quinn. She couldn't stand watching the effects of her devastating honesty. She had never meant to hurt Quinn with this, sure that the pianist had been through a similar share of heartache. And if they were being truthful the lyrics didn't cover everything. It wasn't all harrowing. Rachel could go on for hours about her first big concert, the elation and gratitude for finally getting there. The pianist had mercifully slipped her mind that night. Rachel loved forming that relationship with the audience. It was everything she had dreamed of.

So there's again a break as Quinn plays the in-between notes. Rachel reflects on the song, she knows the content. She knows the promises of commitment and second chances to come in the chorus and when she sings, Rachel just can't find the moment when the words feel wrong. She just doesn't know how to deal with that.

All this time we were waiting for each other

All this time I was waiting for you

Got all these words, can't waste them on another

So I'm straight in a straight line running back to you, yeah

Somehow Rachel ends up closer to Quinn than they intend, leaning against the instrument. The stage manager at the side might just have a panic attack and lighting crew is busy trying to follow the singer. Still, they laugh and grin because this is Rachel, having fun and letting go. This is Rachel when she's with Quinn. An unshakeable smile appears on both girls' faces. There's a slow quirking of the lips as they look away and knowing that the pretense was over. It's comforting, bringing nothing but a beautiful combination of relief and butterfly feelings.

Oh, running back to you

Oh, running back to you

Yeah

Rachel holds the note perfectly, blanketing the entire stadium with her voice. Her back arches naturally in her effort as her hair falls in disarray. And like all those times in the past, it is enough to captivate. Hazel eyes are locked onto every movement, worshipful. Quinn slips, making a mistake and hitting the wrong key. Nobody notices, but they do cheer when her voice filters in. Quinn is new and a stranger, yet in the spur of the moment, the world wants nothing than to see them together. They forget that the song isn't written for two girls on stage. They forget the fact that they're both girls in general…

Oh, I would travel so far

I would travel so far

To get back where you are

There are a lot of things that still have to be worked out, thought through and dealt with. It's never been more obvious as the music reaches a feverish pitch. The audience can appreciate it as the girls and their honesty bring them to the precipice, causing them to hold their breath and wait. People often talk about points of no return. If ever there were such a thing, then it is magnified hundred fold in the stadium with a crowd of thousands, tonight. Rachel bites her bottom lip and hides her face adorably, eyes completely loyal to Quinn's image. She thinks that she sees her perfection, her happily ever after. It's so disconcerting because it's been ten years. What if it's not the same? What if they're not the same?

Quinn continues to play the interlude. She's doing so live and without any planning because when they had made arrangements backstage, they never accounted for this. However, the singer needs to process the events, to catch up to the single notion that has been plaguing the pianist all this time. That, given the opportunity they were done being children trying to play house, no this time, they would actually build their future ground up.

As the seconds pass, the need to continue becomes more urgent. The band is keeping up but their rhythm falters each time the girl's don't take their cues. So whilst Quinn would be content to just play music for Rachel forever, the agitated gestures of the performance director cause her to start. She simply hopes that Rachel might meet her halfway or even at the end because she might always be waiting.

All this time we were waiting for each other

Rachel looks torn. She lets Quinn's voice wash over her. A tear slips down her cheek at the sincerity.

All this time I was waiting for you

Finally looking up, Rachel acknowledges the words. Her smile is unsure as she takes a wobbly step forward so that she's standing beside Quinn. Rachel hasn't got an answer yet, but the blood that rushes through her veins cause her cells to come alive. She feels light, like she's in another place and everything left in her mind screams at her to move closer.

Got all this love, can't waste it on another

So I'm straight in a straight line running back to you

The first half of the chorus is finished. There's an increasing sense of finality and when Quinn catches Rachel's gaze she can see her wavering convictions and the subsequent irritation that the singer addresses to herself. It's not anybody's fault. Quinn wants to reassure, but her script is set and all that's left is to finish the song. She has no expectations or blame towards Rachel, and if her years of practice in a small café in Lima are enough, her voice might be able to carry that comfort and hope.

Straight in a straight line running back to you

Rachel's hand slips onto Quinn's shoulder as she lowers herself onto the edge of the stool next to the pianist. Their sides brush and only they can hear each other's small catch of breath. Quinn focuses on her hands and Rachel stares at the notes on the music sheet.

Straight in a straight line running back to you

Just before the last line, Quinn will let her eyes flicker to the singer beside her. The music will slow to a heartbreaking pace, signaling an ending. And Quinn's lips will open to sing the last line. But before she does, another voice does so instead. Rachel holds the pianist's gaze as she finishes for the both of them.

Straight in a straight line running back to you

The cheers of the crowd is deafening as they watch the girls find each other on the other end of the cliff.

Backstage, Santana would ask a question to someone on the phone.

"How did you know it was going to work?"

There's a chuckle as Lewis's voice comes across the connection, clear and healthy.

"Because as much as Rachel loves the stage, there hasn't been a moment where she didn't wish that that girl was right there with her."

/

The curtains have fallen and the girls haven't moved an inch from their piano stool. Adrenaline rolls of their bodies in waves and the reality of their actions begin to set in. Without the background of thousands and the pressure of putting on a show, they feel as if their strings have been cut and now, their choices were entirely their own. There's no template of their memories to follow and nothing else to consider. Rachel's heart beats rapidly in her chest and she swears she might have a mild panic attack. Unbidden, a pained confession slips out.

"I sorry I can't…"

Quinn swallows. She thinks that that's the answer she was expecting. But still, maybe she the hopeless romantic as Santana has always teased about because try as she might, nothing comes to mind when the refusal is made real. However, she doesn't leave and that is perhaps the difference of the years. Quinn will stay this time, because she's finally learnt that logic and emotions make mistakes.

Rachel on the other hand has more trouble because whilst Quinn is different, it is not in any of the ways that actually makes her anything less in the Rachel's eyes. Instead her mouth is dry and she thinks that Quinn's open concern is a more attractive quality. It's the last cap to the already strong conclusion that Rachel still cares too much about the pianist. She immediately wants to take her words back, however the flash of fear she felt when the song finished and their faces started to lean in close, it was paralyzing.

"It's all right. Rachel, please breathe it's ok."

Thoughts and random reasoning collide chaotically in their minds. Quinn seems to have given into the tide as she whispers to the singer. Her hands are reluctant to provide any real touch or comfort, confused by where the boundaries exist anymore. The blonde, who's so tortured and built on heroic notions, finds her options and abilities at a low. So, she does what most overlook. Instead of gallivanting around for a cure or slaying a ferocious dragon, she stays with the princess and hopes that her presence is what is really needed.

And it is that defeated drop of her shoulders. It is the way her hazel eyes are almost down cast and it is the fact that Quinn's hands constantly fidget in her lap, fighting between hovering over Rachel's own and pulling away. But, it is enough to ignite something in the singer. Rachel falls prey to the nervous pounding in her veins and the shame filling her gut because all of this feels very much like the first time. It feels wrong. It feels too much like giving up…except now there's no resistance. Quinn looks to Rachel as if maybe she had the answers to everything. She gives Rachel the ability to hurt her, knowing, that there's a very real possibility that Rachel will.

Rachel thinks that it is because the pianist needs to feel punished… It is one of the few times that she's actually wrong.

"No! Stop it, Quinn. Stop letting me hurt you! Don't say that I'm not because I know I am!"

By now Rachel is standing, pacing and bearing down on the pianist. The crew has filtered away to give them privacy, most likely from the orders of Santana.

Quinn flinches at Rachel's tone; pleading, broken and still piercing all the same. She blinks, surprised by the statement. She's not used to being looked after and taken care of. In their years apart she's forgotten how Rachel does so perfectly. It's effortless because Quinn's micro-expressions are maybe still the first things that come to mind. In a world of fame and money, it is maybe one of the few things Rachel's invested in. There's nothing but concern in her large brown eyes as she walks to Quinn, reaching out to hold those clasped hands. Her voice is quietly determined.

"Quinn, I can see it in your eyes when I get too close and when I walk away. I'm hurting you, there's no happy medium. Don't you get it? None of this is ok!"

The last words come out flustered, as it seems as if it's them against the world because it sure felt like it. Rachel runs a hand roughly through her hair, looking away. Quinn doesn't deny it. She'd be lying. It wasn't so much the uncertainty in each other because the girls seemed to trust naturally and unconditionally, even after all this time. The painful experiences lay in the uncertainty about their actions, as both girls tried to follow the rules that have been prescribed.

So they make mistakes and overstep because it meant that they could still be close, clinging to the protection that friendship gives. They pretend that it is all right, only letting themselves feel the positives of contact and too familiar conversations. They were waiting for it to be too much, and it was tonight. Rachel can barely see through her rapidly moistening eyes as she shakes her head.

"I can't…"

With that soft confession, everything else seems to follow. Rachel regains her momentum as she feels more like herself, honest and kind.

"Quinn, it's not ok that when I walk into a room, any room, that I am always hoping that you'll be there."

Rachel takes a breath. She gives herself this one as she lifts her hand to tuck Quinn's wayward blonde lock back behind her ear. She's transfixed, as Quinn's eyes seem to flutter shut, leaning into the touch. Rachel's lips part as she can't seem to concentrate her vision elsewhere. The next part is said in one breath, in a decibel that's almost too soft to hear.

"And it's not ok that as I finally get the courage to talk to you about this I am unbelievably distracted by how much I want to throw caution to the wind and kiss you."

A blush appears under pale cheeks, running down Quinn's neck. Rachel always thought that the blonde was one of the few people that appeared more charming when they were furious or embarrassed, bringing out the passion in their eyes and colour to their faces. Rachel mutters once more.

"I don't understand this."

Quinn softens under the words. She thinks that they're finally at the same place, ready to admit that what they had now wasn't enough and being frightened of what happens next. However in high school they had made plans and used labels, perhaps a little cornered by their vision of a future together. New York. Julliard. And NYU.

So with the chances of success so rare, Quinn doesn't want to make the same mistakes.

"Rachel. Please. This is whatever you want it to be."

There's a pause and then a humorless laugh. The singer has her forehead to her hand shaking her head to herself. There's a whole lot placed in that statement and Rachel doesn't know how to vouch for both their hearts. Quinn slowly stands meeting the singer toe-to toe. And with Rachel's high heels they're actually the same height. The magnetism is there and they both just want to lean in. It's not the time or place. Quinn uses her hand to bring Rachel's chin up. She holds those brown eyes with a sense of warmth and purpose. And like in the past, she follows Rachel's emotional lead. Quinn takes a deep breath and she feels more like the person that the singer fell in love with, honest and non-cowardly.

"Rachel I'm here. I'm finally here. And I'm only sorry that I couldn't be here with you sooner, to be a real part of your new life. Because, it is great. "

The fierce attention of the pianist has Rachel off kilter. It's funny, because it is not the millions that trigger her butterfly feelings. It is a certain girl, with a certain way with words and Rachel's heart. Quinn is protective and sincere as she squeezes Rachel's hands.

"When you sing, I believe it. You could tell me that sky is falling and all I'd do is find a place to hide with you. Like nothing else, I have faith that you will stay captivating."

And after that statement, Quinn steps back because this next part couldn't be said in such close proximity when their heads were swimming and their cheeks were warm. They both try to show that the distance doesn't affect them. They're both poor actors.

The pianist smiles gently. It makes Rachel feel safe. And then Quinn speaks.

"So I'm not being submissive."

There's no hesitance as she pauses to let the thought sink in.

"I'm not letting you walk all over me."

Rachel's eyes snap up. And she sees Quinn in the moment; confident, certain and so much like the girl who owned McKinley's hallways. Maybe, Rachel mistook Quinn's new calmer persona for complacency. She'll admit that she's wrong as the pianist's words wash over her.

"I'm just trying to give you everything you want because even if we're not together and even if we're not friends, just by standing on a stage or eating in café, there's a large part of me that will always be yours to do with, however you want."

It is with that last confession, that Quinn lets a brief flash of vulnerability enter her eyes. Barely there and quickly shelved for another time, Quinn remembers Tyler, Brittany, Santana and even Sue. She remembers to be brave. And Rachel just needs to erase it. She needs to make sure that Quinn's fears are never hidden away but actually put to rest. She realizes that she had missed the mark with her expectations. Rachel didn't need memories of who the blonde used to be when the girl that stood in front of her was the same person, grown up and open.

Rachel can see that she'd lost her control over her feelings the second she saw Quinn in the studio. There hadn't been anything else but the knowledge that this was what they were both waiting for. So she crosses the distance and leans in, kissing the pianist. It's sweet, soft and simple, containing nothing but promises.

"All I ever wanted was you."

Quinn closes her eyes at the singer's broken whisper, leaning their foreheads together. Her hand caresses Rachel's jaw and she understands.

"I get it you know, this isn't a decision that needs to be made now."

Rachel's eyes open in surprise. Quinn ignores it and continues, needing to get through.

"If you don't want to try again, then tell me one last time that you just want to be friends."

A whimper almost escapes Rachel's lips as she looks away. Her heart thunders rebelliously at the idea. Quinn on the other hand breathes deeply, trying to keep her voice neutral and level. She tries to be strong.

"But, on the off chance that you aren't sure yet, on the possibility that you think that I am still someone that you want, then close you eyes and say: I need some time."

Time, it's the last thing Quinn can still give Rachel, precious considering the circumstance. Quinn thinks that she can withstand the wait. She'll hold her breath and her pulse will beat away. She's kind of still surprised by how far she's willing to go and it is a last example how Rachel's security still matters. Because every time Quinn thinks she's reached the end of the earth there's just a little more over the horizon.

Rachel wants to give into the only answer that seems right but she recognizes the sacrifice and she acknowledges that the need to be sure about her decision for both their sakes. So she places a hand over Quinn's racing heart, letting the strong beat sooth her worries psyche. It is familiar and strong. Rachel whispers.

"Quinn…I need some time."

It isn't no. And it's the first time since they've come together again that when Rachel walks away, Quinn isn't wearing a sad look. Instead the blonde brings the singer's knuckles to her lips and brushes across each and every one before letting go with a kind nod and reassuring smile.

/

The next days becomes more than anyone ever expects. Quinn becomes caged in her large hotel room as the media flank the main entry of the building's lobby and the backdoor of the service elevator. They deal with the repercussion of their actions, as the world asks questions and assumes many stories about how the girls sang so seamlessly with each other, speculating sexuality and relationship rumours.

They wonder who is Charlie? But most importantly who is Charlie to Rachel Berry?

The pianist simply watches from her bedroom window at the swarm of people that almost seem like pinpricks from her vantage point. She drinks her tea and swallows her cereal, trying to find things to keep her mind preoccupied. It doesn't help because she still worries about Rachel. She wonders if the brunette is encountering a worse situation. She hopes that their progress hasn't changed. She continues to give time.

Rachel, on the other hand with Santana and Lewis, tries to battle the paparazzi and the perceptions of social media. Her hands are busy with irate record executives and angry letters regarding her problematic public image. However, her saving grace is that she has never made any statements or given any illusions as to private life. She has managed to live under the anonymity and the image of those theatre types of where she has her roots.

It is so that when examined carefully, she has never committed any betrayal or great slight towards her audience. She won't give up caring about this girl.

/

The time continues. Santana and Brittany continue to guard both fronts. They protect the girls as best they can. However no moves have been made and the girls refuse to divulge anything. They worry when they have to deliver Quinn's groceries because the blonde can't leave through the throng of people with microphones and cameras. They grow angry when they have to help Rachel withstand the accusations and viscous opinions of those presenters who claim to care with their disarming smiles and shiny teeth.

There's a definite parallel to the past as Brittany and Santana stand in their home. They share looks of concern and fatigue. The dancer holds up her hand. And again it's rock, paper, scissors. The only difference is that this time Santana stops before they reach conclusion.

She tells Brittany that there's already somebody she needs to talk to.

Brittany simply nods and kisses Santana lovingly on her cheek, a sign of good luck.

/

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Rachel glares at the sounds coming from her door as she drops her bags. She had just gotten home after going what felt like three rounds with her music producer, having a particularly bad day in the studio. She couldn't remember the last time she had so much trouble with pitch. Rachel hadn't processed the events since that night, her vision still flashing black spots from the many cameras. Still, there's only so much time that the person on the other side of the door gives, before the knocking becomes more impatient and irate. With the list of approved visitors strictly monitored by her the building's security, Rachel thinks that she already knows who her guest would be as she opens the door.

Santana stands with her arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. She has nothing short of pure determination in her face, as for once; the Latina is without her crisp business-wear. Instead, she is only a grey oversized jumper and skinny jeans. Rachel's shoulders drop because the off-the-clock version of Santana, the one that is a friend and so very protective, is sometimes the voice of reason that Rachel doesn't know how to deal with. When Santana has that disappointment and sharp sense of knowing in her eyes, Rachel finds that she doesn't know how to listen. So, in the meantime she settles for indifference.

"What Santana, did you draw the short straw again?"

The small piece of insecurity and hurt mixed in with the bitter question manages to faze Santana. For a second her attitude drops and she looks to her friend sadly. Admittedly she had never said so and whether it was Quinn's intention or not, Santana has no idea how to function without the loud and unbelievably persistent tones of Rachel Berry. The Latina has come to expect that morning reminder from the singer, as she sculled down cups of espresso, saying that such amounts caffeine wasn't healthy and stained your teeth.

"No. Berry, if you don't get it now you may never get it: you're my friend. So, I want to be here. I wanted to be the one to talk you through this."

Santana ends on a soft note as she looks to Rachel to understand. The singer simply gives a small nod in acknowledgement before continuing her long list of self-set tasks for the evening, refusing to look towards the Latina. She's afraid that there might be something in Santana's expression that will break her, showing her how Quinn is faring.

"Why haven't you spoken to Q yet?

It's the starting question, to open the case. Santana makes herself comfortable lifting herself to the kitchen island, sitting across from Rachel. The singer doesn't give a response. She doesn't have one. The only thing that remains in mind is that she isn't willing to mislead or hurt Quinn a fiftieth time with false promises and a jumbled mind. She thinks that blonde is nothing short of ethereal now that she's finally figured herself out, even if it was without Rachel. It was what they wanted. It was the point where Rachel had hoped they would reach together, through college and during there continued relationship.

However now, the fact that it didn't happen in that perfect fairy tale way didn't make the pianist's changes any less significant or any less breathtaking.

It only makes Rachel confused about her current choice, preoccupied by a past that won't let go. Santana watches the emotions that weave in and out of Rachel's many expressions. She sighs to herself, shaking her head. She thinks that she's going to get stomach ulcers from dealing with her two friends. The thing about being nice and liked was that you never get to tell the truth. You'd be so afraid by how it makes you look and what kind of person that it would make you to think in such a way. Santana never understood it, but she's ready to make Rachel see. So she asks a simple question, for once genuinely curious with the answer.

"Do you really want to hurt her like that?"

Maybe it was the fact that Santana was always brutally honest or maybe it was that the Latina had worse sins in comparison. But Rachel gets the chance to rage and be mad. She gets to be honest and not act affronted or scandalized by the piercing question. And when Rachel has no words and the heavy silence answers for her, Santana isn't judgmental. Instead, the Latina almost seems expectant, accepting and proud. She glad that they're getting to the root of the problem because she'll will only admit this once: that she was part of the betting group that still hoped for a happy ending between the two.

There seemed to a point where Rachel threw away her pretenses. She stopped the obsessive shuffling around of kitchen condiments, taking an anvil to the last bit of mental shielding she had against the past. Her face slackens, her eyes lose their fire and she lets herself return to that point in time in her memories, where everything was wrecked and she didn't want to believe in love anymore.

Her words are whispered imploringly, begging Santana to understand.

"She broke up with me Santana…."

One deep breath is taken. Rachel: because she needs the break to compose herself. And Santana: because she recalls the aftermath of that night. She'll stand loyally in Quinn's quarter for all their lives, but that mistake with Rachel Berry was one of the few times where Santana strongly disagreed. She suspects that Quinn already knew and thus valued her choice to stay so much more. Once again, Santana will thank glee club for forcing them to set aside the pettiness.

Rachel clears the tears from her voice, staring steadfastly into Santana's eyes. And as her petite hands tug at her dark brown locks, she'll recount the hardest part.

"She left me crying in my living room, on what was supposed to be the happiest night of our high school lives."

There's a pause. Santana shrugs. She remembers Quinn's explanations for her actions. She recalls the words and sentences making sense. And even if logic failed them back then, it was still ever present.

Santana thinks about Rachel's run, that first on Broadway musical and the subsequent circus that followed. It had been Julliard's undergraduate student production that first caught the eye of critics. It had been a cranky New York critic that raved about Rachel's talent, propelling her into the radar of social media and producers alike. Last but not least, it was being in Julliard, striving through long practice sessions and harsh teachers, which built Rachel Barbra Berry, creating a star.

By gaining independence from the crutches of high school, the singer was who she was now: someone who is a little tougher, more poised and the role model of so many but the savior of one.

Thus, undoubtedly New York was the right time. It was the right place. And in hindsight, it was ok if it hadn't been with the right person, if they could still find each other now.

So, Santana says in a serious manner.

"You always knew why though."

Rachel smiles bitterly to herself. She's conflicted. A large part of her wanted to find Quinn and stay in the pianist company for a while, probably forever. But they weren't teenagers anymore; there were no excuses for the same mistakes. And was it too much to ask to be sure? To have some sort of a guarantee that happily ever afters were real?

Rachel still wasn't a betting person. She hated gambling when it came to feelings, but most importantly, she couldn't be the reason for another heartbreakingly sad song.

She didn't want to be the type of person who'd unconsciously hold something over someone in a relationship. Rachel couldn't stand it if she ended up resenting Quinn. So, in the safety of her home, she manages to get it out.

"It doesn't matter… She was wrong. And I waited for her to realize that."

There's a forced anger to her voice and a hollowness that screams a lie. Still, the night was about putting everything on the table; whether Rachel believed it or not. And, whether it was true or not. Another pause fills the conversation and the singer asks Santana.

"Can you believe I waited 3 years, before I finally figured it out? She was never going to come to New York. I didn't mean anything to her."

Santana feels her defenses for her friend rise and manages to contain herself. There's just so much that both girls didn't know about the time apart. But the thing was, learning about the pain, loneliness and nights of alcohol-induced sleep wouldn't help either. It would only keep them trapped in the past. By this point, Rachel's tone is tired and she's just hoping that Santana can give her some answers.

"And now what? You bring her up here and expect what?"

Rachel raises the questions. Santana's dark eyes give nothing away causing the singer to huff in frustration as tears once again fill her eyes. Her emotions were all over the place and she tries not to gain comfort from the familiarity of it. Instead, she thinks about all the moments in Quinn's life that she's missed. Rachel wanted to be there when Quinn opened her café and drew up the plans. The singer thinks that she could've helped with her pack of highlighters and organized stationary. She wanted to be a source of support, as Quinn had become a leader, talking high school kids down from the heartbreak ledge.

It hurts that she wasn't, and it's the hardest thing for Rachel to let go, as she asks Santana one more time.

"You sit there and tell me that she still loves me? That she wrote all those songs for me?"

"Which part of it didn't you want to know about?"

The return is quick, casual as if everything to this conversation was easy. And Rachel looses it. She can't stand the calm in Santana's eyes as she fell apart. It had been what felt like hours without progress. Anxiety builds to a peak and the singer can't control the words that tumble out of her mouth.

"All of it, Santana! All of it! Because, it means that …we could have been happy for the last ten years and I can't for the life of me understand why we weren't."

It was a hard pill to swallow. That the conclusion of the night was that there wasn't a good reason for the trajectories of their lives other a luck, timing and misplaced good intentions on both their parts. Some say that the intent is all that matters. Most times as everything goes to hell, it doesn't feel true…

The girls sit in silence. Eventually Santana starts. She thinks finally understands Rachel and her reluctance. It wasn't malicious. It was just out of concern that the relationship could end badly because Rachel hadn't gotten over what had happened before. The brunette refused to do that to Quinn. Santana appreciated the thought, but she thinks that the singer has her head in the clouds about the complexity of most relationships. The truth was that even she and Brittany had their issues, fights and moral disagreements. In those moments, their survival depended on the idea that nothing was permanent, forgiveness and acceptance would come but meanwhile they had to hold on. They had to live up to their belief that a life together was worth fighting for.

"So, maybe it isn't about forgetting or even forgiving just yet."

Rachel looks up. She's surprised by the comment, expecting something else. Perhaps, a sharp slap to the upside and the callous 'just get over it.' However, Santana ignores Rachel, simply going on. She lowers her tone to soften the impact of her words.

"Berry, that shit is heavy and I'm sure that it's left scars on both of you. But, that doesn't justify leaving Q flapping in the wind as you try to develop the balls to talk to her about it."

Santana contemplates something for a moment and it's one of the few times when she's unsure. In the end she rubs her face and sighs. She thinks that Quinn will forgive her for revealing something that might colour Rachel's decision. She thinks that Rachel needs to understand what the concessions that the pianist makes.

"I've been Quinn's friend for a long time. That girl needs control. She lives and breathes it. But a few days ago, she went on stage to sing with you, in front of hundreds of people. Everything we had been working towards in the last few years, the image of Charlie and the possibility of anonymity, she threw away because right then and there… she made a conscious decision to choose you."

It is a slow process and Rachel swallows and fights to remain unaffected. She doesn't know how to respond. It used to be that she could recognize the emotional decisions and identify the small ticks in Quinn, when the pianist was trying to change. Rachel used to be able to tell when Quinn was gallant and still that little bit self-sacrificing with her actions.

It is unnerving.

Rachel's breaths quicken as the fiddling of her hands demonstrate the return of nervous habits. She swears that in the past she had so much understanding over their relationship, what she wanted, what to do and how to be. And now, it seemed that Quinn had found the finish before she did.

Santana is the person in front of her telling her it's a choice, in the now, not dependent on the past.

"Is a future with Quinn still everything you want?"

After all these years, Rachel chooses… and it's still the same person it always was. It's been 10 years, they are older, different and still a little lost; but it is real and informed.

She's choosing Quinn… And for the first time in a while, there is something better…

/

In another hotel suite, Quinn lounges on the couch with Brittany, watching the latest reality and interview show. They discuss the merits and criticisms against the dancer's high school video blog 'Fondue for Two.'Brittany defends some of her previous statements and the girls both laugh at the mistakes in filming. The dancer has a surprised hand to her chest when she sees her beloved overweight cat fall into the cooled cheese pot towards the end of a segment. They hold their arms to their stomachs as the jokes become too much.

Quinn doesn't tell Brittany that she knows that the dancer is checking up on her, making sure that she still isn't doing anything stupid. Brittany doesn't tell Quinn that she knows that the situation is difficult, and the pianist is buckling under the pressures and the lack of answer. They're simply best friends, as the reporters outside are pushed from mind and the weekend develops it's own momentum in sleepovers and horror movies.

When tivo is paused, and they scavenge the cupboards for new snacks, Brittany will walk past a couple of stapled sheets of paper. She'll backtrack to it in surprise, despite the armful of Cheetos and ice cream in hand and look up at Quinn. It takes a while as the pianist studiously digs through the healthy compartment of her pantry to the junk food at the back, but when Quinn notices, there's a brief worry in her face before her shoulders dropped. She glances down to the document on the table and she's resigned.

"What do you want to know?"

Brittany tilts her head as she reads the property agreement. The words talk of a brownstone in the heart of the city, close to the major theatre, museums and recording studios. It's a reasonably high price. The owners have settled with their stamps of approval and signatures but one line remains empty.

"You're moving to New York? Why didn't San tell me?"

The question isn't accusing but confused as brilliant blue eyes dart between the papers and her friend. Quinn releases a sigh, walking to the island. She stands opposite the dancer and helps Brittany put down all the food in her arms for the discussion. It's quiet and they use the time to think. Brittany organizes her questions and Quinn figures out her answers.

Finally, Quinn would speak kindly.

"Santana didn't tell you because I asked her not to. And I didn't tell you because I haven't said yes yet. Between what's happening with Rachel, I just don't know if this is the right decision."

Brittany softens under the uncertainty in Quinn's tone. She reaches for the pianist's hands and squeezes. Quinn looks down gratefully, as her thoughts carry her away. Brittany is supportive and encouraging and it makes the worries slip out a little easier. The pianist might be somebody's shoulder to cry on in Lima, but in New York and when her mind and heart is tied to Rachel Berry, Quinn talks to the person that makes things simple and helps her understand.

Brittany is not Santana. The dancer believes that vulnerability and fears should be felt and dealt with. Whereas Santana doesn't know how to help like that, instead she keeps the fort strong and gives you the space and the chance to figure it out.

In the quiet of the large room, Quinn confesses.

"I don't know if I'm supposed to be here."

They both absorb the statement before Brittany asks abruptly and with sparkling curiosity.

"Quinn, do you like New York?"

"What?"

Puzzled by Brittany's question, Quinn tried to dissect the words in her mind. It's a question out of left field and she hadn't thought about it. But now that Brittany seemed expectant of an answer, Quinn didn't know why she didn't.

The dancer smiles gently, electing to explain. Her expression is of effort and deliberation and she picks out the right words and in the best order in her mind. She remembers that Santana and Quinn needed different assurances and descriptions. They put so much understanding in the English language, which dealt so hopelessly with love and other emotions. Still, Brittany tries.

"Well Rachel is special, we both know that. She was…a non-Rachy person in college. It took her a while before she could go to classes and sleepy dreamland on her own."

The dancer is visibly miserable by the memories. She likes to think that the period was needed. The singer needed to cry and eat a lot of chocolate and maybe by the end, she could be a stronger Rachel. Maybe then, she could still think about Quinn without it hurting, so that they could love better next time.

The way that Brittany understands it is that, love doesn't go away. She still loves Artie to some extent and all the other guys she's dated. The difference was not in the emotion but in the person woven through it. For her, Santana is Santana. The Latina is loud, fierce and headstrong. She cares about Brittany to an extent that stupid things don't seem so bad and nobody else seems worth it. Artie was kind and smart, but Brittany didn't understand some of the things he said or why he wouldn't just make a wish to Santa for a new pair of legs.

There's a jumbled logic and Brittany doesn't know how to do rationalize why Santana was everything. She didn't know how to show Quinn how Rachel is the same. All she can conclude is that, she knows how to love the Latina best. She's the happiest when Santana is around.

The Latina doesn't brush off the concepts or topics that Brittany didn't understand. Instead she talks the dancer through them and they share kisses afterwards. There's a kindness and emotion there that fills up the room, demanding some sort of response. And love is the closest word to describe it, but it doesn't feel like it's enough.

During the pensive silence, Brittany realizes that she's gone off-track. She tries to pick up where she left off. She wants to erase Quinn's guilt. She's trying to make it clear and show the knight the path to get to the princess. But there were so many obstacles. Brittany needs to show Quinn the bad parts as well. So she continues.

"That time at Julliard was sad. It made me sad."

The pianist doesn't say anything. The raising and falling of her chest convinces the dancer that her friend is still present. Quinn tries to focus on the topic, the sentences and the ticking of the clock and not the pinpricks in her eyes. She doesn't let her imagination wonder very often these days. The smallest self-loathing part of her mind was always too happy to create scenarios that could bring her to her knees. But when she looks up Brittany seems compassionate and pleased with her. Quinn tries to keep her head up and listen because the dancer's next statements resound with meaning and hope.

"And… you're Quinn. You are convincing, heroic and considerate. But when I visited you and San at UCLA, you were the Quinn that Santana talked about before McKinley: sad and not liking herself. I didn't know how to bring happy Quinn back… So, I even asked Rachel about it when I came back to our apartment."

The confession causes Quinn's eyes to widen. Before she could attempt to reign in her thoughts, she was hungry for the brunette's analysis. She has faith that even back then Rachel still understood who she was. After all, the singer was the best at discovering the pieces that Quinn tried to hide. It never occurs to the pianist that such trust in another person was unique, unusual and to be envied. She doesn't see the truth yet.

"Rachel was crying but she said that it was ok. She said that you were both learning to want things again."

Brittany recounted with a far away look in her eyes.

"Rachel told me that if you could do what you needed and wanted for yourself, before thinking about others., then, you would be happy Quinn again. She said that because you chose to think about everybody, it made you a good leader, but a sad person."

There's a pause. Quinn swallows thickly. The statement disarms her as memories rush back. A reminiscent smile appears on her face as she remembers something as simple as grocery shopping for her mother's Sunday church group. Rachel had joined her on that trip, advising on nutritional values and frowning on the meat choices. During the last part, they needed to buy snacks for their movie night with Rachel's fathers. Quinn had asked Rachel what she wanted. The brunette had stubbornly refused to tell her, forcing her to make her choice first. Quinn didn't notice until the checkout, but Rachel had slipped her vegan choices to the cart, next to Quinn's beef jerky. Rachel had looked satisfied when they came out with both choices despite still scrunching up her nose when Leroy and Quinn moaned at the taste of the meat product. It had been simple, but the warm feeling and the racing hearts lasted a while after.

Brittany has furrowed brows as she gets the request out.

"So I think that you should want New York for you, before you decide to want it for Rachel and you. Does that make sense?"

And in that moment, Quinn can only nod in response.

/

The next morning, Quinn wakes up. She prepares her cereal and takes a seat on a bar stool by the kitchen island. She stares at the documents on the counter. The words such transfer of ownership and development rights stand out, making it so much more real than television or their parents made it look. Every line was a commitment, a symbol of something permanent. And following her talk with Brittany, Quinn thinks about what she wants.

/

When Quinn figures it out, it's nighttime and there is an insistent knock on the door. The almost childlike impatience of the sounds makes the pianist relax. She thinks that Brittany is probably back because she had left something on the couch from the night before.

However, Rachel stands on the other side. The singer has a thick coat on and a slightly red nose from the cold. She's shivering but her resolve causes her to stay. Her heart rate was fast from sneaking past the paparazzi still covering the entrance of the hotel, but her hands were shaking because she couldn't wait. She could just recall what it felt like to have Quinn around again, for Quinn to be hers.

The door opens and the blonde is shocked by Rachel's presence, seemingly rooted to her spot. The singer finds that she understands; it has been longer than it should. Eventually Quinn shakes herself out of the stupor and quietly steps aside for the singer to walk in. Naturally, she reaches around Rachel's shoulders for her coat and the singer moves fluidly out of it. The girl's eyes flutter shut as Quinn's fingers graze Rachel's tanned arms. The cells of their bodies feel as if they're thrumming with energy and the slightly romantic light of a couple of lamps exacerbates the situation, distracting their concentrations.

Rachel slowly turns around. She is met by Quinn's waiting gaze and suddenly remembers who held the control. It's been a while but Rachel wants to show the pianist how much it means to her. She wants to show that she could never abuse it. She wants to make them both believe that they didn't need it, if they were working together.

"I'm sorry for yesterday. I'm sorry for the media."

So Rachel starts with an apology. After finally coming to see the blonde, she hadn't realized how bad it was. The shame comes in waves and she holds her arms crossed protectively around her petite body. She almost looks away unable to hold Quinn's eyes. Rachel is grateful that the pianist is still here. She didn't have to be…not in the face of that. It was too much to ask. It was more than Rachel thought that she deserved. Her voice trembles as she manages to say.

"I will understand if you want to leave. But I wish you'd stay."

Quinn crumbles under the misery in Rachel's expression. She feels a pain in her throat, as her words don't come. She didn't know how to respond to the things she thought she wouldn't hear again. Instead, Quinn takes a shaky breath and reaches out to touch the singer's shoulder comfortingly. Her hand settles on the base of Rachel's neck and she tries not to be entranced by how warms Rachel's skin is or that it's not close enough.

Rachel leans into the touch, closing her eyes. She tries to get control of her emotions, breathing in measured breaths. Her voice comes out in a whisper.

"I'm so afraid of being around you."

Without her heels, Rachel is shorter than Quinn. When she moves a step forward she can just rest her head on the blonde's shoulder. The clean scent of newly laundered clothes, a light floral shampoo and something distinct causes her head to swim and for a moment, she's unstable on her feet. Automatic hands hold her steady by the waist. It takes less than 10 minutes and they're already less than centimeters apart. Rachel murmurs into the pianist's old pajama tee.

"I never dreamed that you would be the one at the end of the tunnel. The person would mean so much to me."

Quinn's breaths catch. She fights the moisture coming to her eyes as she stares at the wall behind. She tries to give Rachel the privacy she needed to continue. Quinn revels in the small things that remind her that she really has the singer in her arms; the scent of baking, the fingers that grip her shirt and the lips that inadvertently brush against her collarbone with each word. After a couple of seconds more, Rachel finally brings herself to step back. She's still in arms length because it's as far as her body is willing to go. Thankfully it is just enough to get her head cleared. Her eyes look tortured and adoring, as her vision delights in the image of Quinn.

The pianist is patient and unmoving, returning the intensity of the attention. Rachel has to try and steel herself before beginning.

"I haven't loved you since we were children."

The singer pauses. The next part is difficult, as the truth of it taunts the both of them.

"In fact there were a lot of moments when I didn't love you at all."

Quinn closes her eyes briefly. The only signs of hurt are the way that she doesn't breathe for a second and her clenched fists, which Rachel just wants to go and loosen. Still, she needs to get through, to fix this, to fix them.

"For a while I even hated you; because it was easier to believe that it was your fault, that you were taking away the happy endings..."

Somehow when Quinn had her eyes closed, Rachel had moved to be right in front of her. Rachel reaches for the pianist's pale hands, noting how they seemed to relax in hers. She meets hazel eyes head on with fierceness and a passion that she had forgotten.

"And I'm not going to say that it doesn't matter. Because Santana is right, that's utter bullshit."

A small smile appears on their faces at the familiar attitude of the Latina. Rachel uses her hand to bring Quinn's gaze back to her. Her tone is as low as a whisper for there is no need for it to be any louder. It was ridiculous that in a room the size of a small house, they were only occupying the space of circle with a diameter of less than a meter.

Still, it felt right. When the air between them was enough to send thrills down their spines, it seems as if it was the only way to function.

"But, I think that I finally get it now."

Quinn is hanging on every word and movement Rachel makes and she wonders if it is obvious. The way Rachel blushes makes it seem like it might be. And the Quinn doesn't back away. She'll consent to anything that keeps the singer in her life.

Rachel speaks again, this time the urgency standing out in her tone.

"Quinn…The hurt. The sweaty palms and the frightful uncertainty, it is you and it is me. It's a part of us. And that's good... It means whatever this is, it certainly isn't temporary."

At that conclusion, there's a strong sense of relief that hits both of them. Rachel squeezes Quinn's hands. She makes her tone deliberate and calming; a promise of things to come.

"And, I don't want to be your friend Quinn."

Rachel shakes her head to herself as she confesses. It's heartbreakingly honest.

"I couldn't stand it if somebody else got the privilege of waking up next to you in the mornings."

Rachel looks up, catching Quinn's gaze.

"You know, when your hair is just that little bit messy and your smile is completely unaffected."

The pianist still looks unsure, fighting the automatic tendency to smile in the singer's company and speech. She's trying to keep her hopes under control. She's trying to protect what's left of her heart. And Rachel smiles sadly, it hurts her that there's a need for Quinn to stay on guard. So she gives up her last truth.

"It makes my heart race."

She lets herself touch the smooth skin of Quinn's jaw. Her eyes begs Quinn to fall one more time.

"I want to be the one to remind you that you're beautiful and… that you're still so much more than your looks…."

The blonde remains still and unresponsive. The singer's words keep repeating in Quinn's mind and she's trapped in by her emotions. It's hard to believe that this isn't a dream but Rachel doesn't know what else to say or do. She's at her breaking point.

"I'm sorry Quinn… I apologize for the fact that your hotel room has been a safe haven for the last few days and I'm unbelievably sorry for what they will do to you, just for being important to me…"

Rachel lets the statement hang for a moment. Staying was too much to ask anyone. But, she was Rachel and the pianist was Quinn. Maybe they were still the lucky ones. Maybe, in this case, their dedication to each other was enough. There really isn't anything else, as Rachel finishes.

"I'm not going anywhere Quinn. I love you."

For a moment, their gazes stay locked. Then Quinn breaks away, looking up in relief. Her breaths are rapid and uneven as she chokes back a whimper. Rachel stands watching. The pianist breaks one last time and falls.

In a swift motion, and as a flash of determination and want comes into hazel eyes, Rachel is swept up in a kiss. Quinn is wild, desperate and so unbelievably happy. Nothing feels enough. She wants to make each contact longer. She doesn't want to need to breath and she never wants the singer's touch to leave. Rachel barely keeps up but she doesn't mind.

You're still everything I want…

/

Meters away the property documents lay forgotten on the counter. However on closer inspection, Quinn's signature is fittingly perfect on the buyer's line.

Quinn had completed the forms, before Rachel reached her door.

Maybe, she was always going to stay…

/

Yay together right? About two more chapters to go =)