You've never been out of the country before and this is the first time since you got together that you'll have been away from Rachel for so long. You've never considered yourself codependent except maybe with Santana, but that's sort of a need someone to tell you if that dress really makes you look fat and for her special brand of snarky Santana support. You can get all that stuff over the phone.

You stayed at your apartment for as long as possible before having to go to the plane with the rest of your cast. Rachel kissed you and told you that she loved you multiple times. You still miss her though. Your hotel is nice and your castmates are great company. You just miss her. And it's only been twelve hours. How sad is that?

When you're at the theatre having your make-up done, you get a text from Santana. She wants to take you out to dinner when you get to Lima. She's been a lot nicer since Brittany's show opened and her semester is over. Of course she and Brittany are joined at the hip now, but if they're happy you're happy for them. You tell her that you'll meet her when you get there.

You look out onto the crowd. You know Rachel shouldn't be here, but part of you wishes that she is. Of course you know that even as amazing as Rachel is she can't be in two places at once. You're just nervous for your first show and her presence would make you feel infinitely better.

You miss Rachel. You don't feel empty, but you feel less full. You knew how big her personality is. You just didn't realize how much it filled a void. You start to think it's unhealthy how much you miss her.

Your second day in Vancouver, you let the leading man show you around. Courtney is a nice guy and has been to Vancouver enough times to know a few good places to eat. He takes you out to breakfast and as you wait for him to return from the restroom you check your phone for all Rachel related tabloids. You find the newest one and open it.

Broadway star Rachel Berry goes ring shopping with new beau.

You laugh at the headline because under it is a picture of Rachel and Ethan at a jewelry store. Sure Rachel has her arm lopped through Ethan's, but Ethan's your friend and Rachel is your girlfriend and if your life were some twisted soap opera, they'd be sleeping together behind you back, but since this is real life, you know that they're probably out shopping for Hanukah presents…. wait…. ring shopping. Ethan couldn't afford that store that they're in. So Rachel's buying a ring for someone. Who makes more sense than buying one for you? Rings mean…holy shit.

"What's wrong?" Courtney asks you, sitting back down.

Your face must have been conveying more than you thought. "I just…" You tilt your head to the side, "Rings don't have to mean that someone is going to ask someone else to get married right?"

Courtney smiles, "What are you talking about?"

"I mean if your girlfriend was in a picture ring shopping with one of your best friends what would you think?" you doctor your coffee until it is the perfect shade of tan which just so happens to match Rachel's eyes.

"How long have you two been dating?" he asks.

"A few months," you shrug. It doesn't seem like it. It seems like years and the way you see it the courtship process started the second you got someone to throw a slushy in her face. Not the most conventional way to start a relationship, but it worked for you apparently.

"Isn't that a little early?"

"I guess so," you shrug. Of course if she did ask you to marry her there would be no hesitation. It's a million yeses before she even gets the whole question out. You just don't want to pressure her into going too fast.

He shrugs, taking a bite of his bacon, "My grandparents got married after knowing each other for three days."

"Really?" you ask.

"Yeah," he takes a swig of orange juice and nods, "They met at a party back in the day. They told me that it was love at first sight. His parents kicked him out when they found out. They didn't care though."

"That's sweet," you smile.

Courtney nods with a smile, "Yeah. I guess that made me into a romantic. I keep waiting for the girl. I mean if you got the girl and you know it, why not go for it?"

You sip your coffee and give him a slow nod. Makes sense….if you're in a romance novel. In the real life there are more obstacles than that. Insecurities and an innate ability to put down everything that ever made you happy are just a few. You're still waiting for the crazy part of your brain to take over and do something royally stupid in an attempt to get Rachel to leave you.

Of course Santana told you the first step in know you're going to sabotage yourself if knowing that it's going to happen. Then planning accordingly. Of course you think that you're a much more sneaky saboteur than her which you can see coming for miles. You fight like a girl. You gain intel, find a weakness, wait until the victim isn't looking and hit them where it hurts most before sashaying away in your designer heels.

"What did you get her for Hanukah?" he asks you.

You smile to yourself, "A necklace." You hope she likes it. It's a beautiful, sparkling cascade of jewels. "Oh and I made her something."

"What did you make her?" Courtney asks with a smile.

"When we were in high school, I took this video of her singing," you explain, "Which totally sounds creepy now, but I made it into a DVD and put it in a scrapbook of us. I know it sounds cheesy and so dull, but I think it's nice sometimes to see how far we've come. I even found some pictures of me and her together smiling."

"Nice," he nods.

"Where are you going for the holiday?" you ask him.

"I'm going to Colorado with my family," he shrugs, "I'm flying straight there after this."

You've both been avoiding talking about the show because you're both nervous about how it went. Finally you have to ask him, "How do you think the show went?"

"I think it went well," he grins, "The five minutes standing ovation you got should have told you that."

"It was all of us," you roll your eyes, "Probably more you."

"They were just cheering because I finally got to kiss the pretty girl."

You chuckle and shake your head. "You're crazy."

You spend most of your time in Vancouver with Courtney. He's been here before and you don't feel comfortable venturing too far out by yourself. The shows drain you so you sleep most of the way to Lima. Your mom picks you up at the airport and drives you back to her house.

She shoos you away to take a shower, but you end up falling into your bed and passing out for a few hours.

Your phone ringing wakes you up.

"Who taught Rachel how to use Twitter?"

It's Kathy and she's saying it like it's your fault. You're still half asleep and just groan, "What?"

"This is a publicists nightmare. Rachel Berry with unlimited uncensored access to her fans and the media." she hangs up and you look at the phone wondering what the hell just happened.

Then you realization dawns on you. You pick up your phone and after a quick Google search you find that Rachel opened up a twitter account yesterday. At that moment you are so glad that you're not her publicist.

Then the curiosity gets the better of you so you log onto the Twitter account you created forever ago at the behest of a coworker but never actually used.

Soon you're one of almost a hundred thousand people following her. So far she's only tweeted four things. The first is:

RachelBerry I'm so excited to use Twitter. Any questions from fans?

That scares you a little bit. Unlimited access to Rachel Berry is probably not something the world is ready for. You continue reading:

RT nolife78754 any comments on your recent break up with Quinn Fabray?

RachelBerry If we've broken up it's news to me. Guess I should check before I finish my Holiday shopping. ;-)

Someone asked for advice and she told them to never stop trying. Someone just commented that you were lucky to have to. She told them that you were lucky to have each other, but she felt like the luckiest one.

The last one made you laugh until tears ran out of your eyes.

RT columbiamedBAMF can you explain the heinous animal sweaters you wore in high school?

RachelBerry Hi Santana

You drop your phone on the bed next to you and look up at the ceiling. There's no telling how many hours you've stared at the ceiling. The first time you remember really staring for a really, really long time was then you started high school. There are still pushpin holes from there your posters used to hang. You took them down when your dad kicked you out and never put them back up when your mom took you back. You can't remember what the posters were of. Probably cheerleading or some shirtless guy who was popular at the time.

You smile a little because since the last time you've stared at the ceiling, you feel like you've figured yourself out. You know what you're capable of and you know your emotional capacity. You know a lot more about yourself than you ever imagined.

You finally get out of bed and make your way downstairs. Your mom is leaning on the kitchen counter, reading a magazine.

"Uh mom," you get a mug down and pour yourself some hot water out of the kettle then open the cabinet to select from your mother's ever growing tea selection. "Why are you reading Men's Health?"

"Oh it's something Eliot left last time he was here," your mom shrugs and sets it down, "There was an interesting article about colon health."

"So interesting," you grab a bag of green tea and set it in your steaming water, "If you're done with the colon article I'll take it back to him when I meet Rachel there tomorrow."

"It's not fair that you two always stay over there," you mom tells you as you grab a seat on one of the stools by the island.

You blow on your tea, "We've only been here once as a couple and you weren't here then."

"How sad is that?" she asks, leaning on the counter across from you, "You never come see your mother."

It's more of a tease than anything and you let out a smile, "Or you could move to New York. Upstate somewhere with tall trees and more junior leagues than people."

You mom chuckles and moves the salt and pepper shakers around on the counter, straightening them up, "I can't leave your sister. Especially now that the divorce is being finalized."

You furrow your eyebrows, "Divorce?"

"She didn't tell you?"

You talked to your sister last week and she didn't mention anything about a divorce. And if it's being finalized now, then it had to have started at least a month ago. Ryan wouldn't go down without a fight. "What happened?"

There's a far off look in your mother's eyes and you can tell this divorce is hitting her close to home. "She found out that he had girlfriends in three of the five biggest cities in the Midwest."

"Oh my god," you breath. You can't imagine that. If Rachel…hell even if Finn had cheated on you like that you'd be completely heartbroken. "Is she okay?"

Your mom takes a deep breath, "Yeah. I think so. She's not really as upset as you'd think. I don't think she actually liked him all the much to be honest. I didn't and I know you didn't. You practically growled every time he got near you."

You let out a small smile. You didn't know you were that transparent, but you're happy that you weren't the only one that didn't like him. You didn't have to ask your mom why your sister married him if she didn't actually like him. In Lima, if you don't marry your high school sweetheart, the next best thing is to marry a well-off man. So the single women in Lima jockey for position in the race to get the best man. Luckily for Fabray women, you're all drop-dead gorgeous and have men running over their tongues for you. Your mom and sister went the well-off way while you stuck with your high school sweetheart. See how well it worked out for all of you?

"Did she get the house?" you ask after mulling the situation over in your head.

Your mom pushes her blonde hair away from her face, "Yes. She also got the cars and alimony, but she's been staying here. She's upstairs right now sleeping. She's been doing that a lot lately."

You feel like a shitty sister. Like you should have seen this coming and you should have been here to support her instead of gushing about how perfect Rachel is every time that she calls. You feel like the worst sister ever.

"Does she need anything?" you ask, wanting to figure out a way to make it up to her.

"I don't know," your mom brings her mug to her lips, "You'll have to ask her." After a sip she answers, "So about you and Rachel staying here."

"Mom, are you really going to celebrate Hanukah?" you tilt your head to the side.

"I've been celebrating it better than you," she smirks, "I went to the synagogue with Steve and Eliot last night and I've been keeping completely kosher all week."

You're impressed. You know she's become best friends with Rachel's dads, but you didn't know it came to the point that she was celebrating religious holidays with them. "Rachel's bringing our friend because his family is out of the country and he didn't have the money to go with them. There's not enough room here."

"Of course there is," your mom says. "You and Rachel can sleep in your room. Frannie will be in her room and your friend can sleep in the study."

"Um," you rub your forehead, "I'll ask Rachel and Ethan, but I'll stay here for sure."

She rounds the counter and puts her arm around you, "I was just kidding with you. You won't hurt my feelings by staying with the Berrys."

"No, I'm going to stay here," you answer, finding a familiar sanctuary in your mother's arms, "I live with Rachel and I seen Ethan all the time. It won't kill me to sleep a few streets away."

You mom raises her eyebrows at you. "Quinn," you can tell she's serious, "I'm surprised that you managed to stay in Vancouver as long as you did without seeing her."

You smile because she's right. It's probably a miracle that you managed to make it without flying back every night.

"Oh, speaking of Rachel, have you see her new Twitter?" your mom asks.

After talking with your mom for a couple hours before heading upstairs to get dressed for dinner with Santana. You have no idea what this super secret sans-Brittany dinner is about, but it'll be nice to catch up with your friend. You've both been so busy lately.

As you brush out your hair, you hear your phone vibrate with a text on the bathroom counter next to you. When you pick it up you see it's from Rachel.

Hey gorgeous. I miss you.

You smile at yourself in the mirror and adjust your hair, You pick up your phone and fall back onto the bed. After pressing a few buttons you put the phone to your ear.

"Hey," she answers softly. She sounds tired. Matinee shows can do that to people.

"Hey," you answer, "I miss you too." You can hear her moving some things around and by the rustle of cloth you figure that she's laying in bed.

"How was your day?" she asks lazily.

You look back up at the ceiling, the holes still staring down at you. Keeping the phone to your ear, you get up and walk to your suitcase. On top is the scrapbook your made for Rachel. You open it and take out one of the loose photographs that you didn't have room for. It was when you first moved to New York. You and Rachel were cheek to cheek on a busy sidewalk somewhere. Probably on the way home from dinner or something. You finally remember you're on the phone and answer her questions, "It was okay. I tried to sleep off my exciting three days in Vancouver and I talked with my mom for a few hours. Also, I got an interesting call from Kathy."

"Did you see it?" her voice is suddenly excited as you root around in your desk drawer. Finally you extract when you were looking for.

"Yeah I did," you answer, "What made you start one now?"

"Oh, I was signing autographs outside of the theatre when someone asked if I had one," she answers, "And I thought, why not? Apparently Kathy thought, oh god."

You laugh and step up onto your bed. You reach up, standing on your toes and push the pin through the corner of the picture. You repeat the process three more times and then hop down. When you fall back onto the bed this time, you see her smiling face pressed against yours instead of the white expanse of the bare ceiling and it makes you smile.

"I love you," you softly tell her.

You can hear the smile in her voice when she says it back. "I'm going to go to sleep okay? I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright," you tell her, "Sweet dreams beautiful."

"Goodnight Quinn," she says.

You hang up the phone and nearly jump out of your skin when you hear, "Oh my god I just threw up a little in my mouth."

You turn to the doorway of your room to find Santana standing there. Her tight jeans are neatly tucked into her brown leather boots with a small heel. You ignore her black long sleeved shirt and blue puffy vest and move straight for the fuzzy hat she's wearing. You let out a smile and she rolls her eyes, "Shut up. It's fucking cold outside."

You sit up and grab your faux fur lined mid-calf boots that are the warmest ones you own. "It's Brittany's isn't it?"

She nods, "Yeah." Her eyes are distant and thoughtful as she stares at the ground while you finished getting ready. She's quiet all the way out of the house. She wasn't kidding when she said it was cold. Her hand slips through your arm, her fingers resting on the inside curve of your elbow.

You look to her and see that she's still staring off into space. "What's wrong Santana?"

She just shakes her head and opens the car door for you, "We'll talk when we get there."

After look at her, trying to figure out what's going on with you, you sit down in the seat. She closes the door and walks to the other side to start the silent drive to the restaurant.