Ratings and disclaimers from Chapter One apply.

The end of the Rachel/Mercedes drama-rama. Forever, in this story. Characters took this one over so I have another chapter to write for Regionals. And no, I'm so not happy about it, either.


After practice was over and as everyone was filing out, Rachel said, "Mercedes, could I talk to you privately?"

Mercedes looked to Brittany, who looked to Rachel.

"She would never hurt me, Brittany. At least with her hands."

Brittany glared at Mercedes as she said, "Five minutes and we'll all be outside."

Santana pointed from herself to Quinn and back to Mercedes, "Know it or blow it."

When they were alone in the choir room, Rachel smiled, "And they think we're drama queens."

Mercedes smiled, "Right?"

Rachel walked around the piano and hit a few keys, "I just wanted to say I know I put you on the spot about the co-captaincy. It wasn't all that nice to do because what kind of person would you be if you said no to a poor gay-bashed girl in front of the whole club?"

Mercedes chuckled, "Yeah. That was a sorta bitch move."

"Granted. And I'll be happy to say I decided I like being the captain all by myself and confirm everything everyone thinks about me if you tell me why you wouldn't want to be the co-captain of our club."

Mercedes took a deep breath as Rachel took a seat on Brad's bench and hit a few more keys. "Be honest. It won't leave this room."

"Okay. Honestly, I don't want the responsibility."

"Good answer. It might surprise you to know I don't either but I'll take it if no one else will. I don't particularly care if you think it's only so I can get the solos."

"Fine. Plus being captain of the Glee club seals the deal as far as being a loser is concerned."

"True again but I've never had anywhere lower on the social totem pole to fall so no problem for me. Next."

The girl stalled and Rachel responded, "Okay. How about this instead—tell me what a Glee club captain should do."

"I guess…bring ideas to the club."

"Yes."

"Suggest ways to make club performances better."

"Yes."

Mercedes paused, "I know where this is going, Rachel."

"Really? Where is it going?"

"Yet again, you're better than I am and I'm a loser."

Rachel sighed and played a couple of chords before saying, "And here we go again. I don't think that and I'd happily give up my captaincy if you'd take it. Your song choices were wonderful—well, those and Quinn's—but I'd be happy if you were captain. If that didn't mean every solo were yours."

"Like you'd want it to be for you?"

"This is a show choir, Mercedes. And I am a show singer. You. Are. Not. Don't argue with that because your voice is tremendous but we both know what I'm talking about. In a vacuum of suggestions or help, what am I supposed to do as captain? For this competition, I decided to just pull the plug on diva or show for the solo and, guess what, I bet you that will get the judges' attention. But that kills me and you and Tina and Kurt as soloists, doesn't it?"

"Yes it does."

"You made great choices, Mercedes, and I couldn't be happier about your song with Tina and I'm over the moon for that group number. I liked your choosing Quinn as our soloist and not because she's my girlfriend. She can sing feelings we can't because we're all, to one degree or another, still little girls, Kurt included. Quinn's really not so much anymore. And just so you know, Santana's not a little girl either."

Mercedes lowered her eyes, "What do you want, Rachel?"

"To know if you're my co-captain or not. And to tell you that you don't have to be."

"You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?"

"Never."

"Okay. Co-captains but you can't diss my suggestions."

"Oh yes I can. You diss mine."

"But I—"

"No. You always do and I respect the competition but I reserve the right to reciprocate. I won't be walked on anymore, Mercedes, but I do know what it's like to think your voice is the only thing you have in this world. It's not the only thing either of us have."

"And isn't that easy for you to say? You think Ms. Perfect's in love with you."

Rachel slammed both hands down on the piano, creating a hideous non-chord, "Think? Well, we'll see, won't we?"

"Rachel—"

"No! I've said what I wanted to. You can feel free to fuck with me as you always have, thank you very much, but get personal with me about Quinn and I'm leaving."

"I know! I'm sorry!"

"About what? Very exactly about what?"

Mercedes just took a few breaths. "I don't even know at this point. Please. I'm tired of arguing."

"You're tired? We're bickering, yet-a-fucking-gain, and about what? I wish to fuck you'd decide why you hate me so much and get over it—or not. You know what? Don't bother. I know exactly why you hate me. I also know you actually sort of love me as a sort-of friend. But if I wanted some endless moronic love/hate relationship, I'd still be dating Finn. And it's a little sad when I have to admit you're more exasperating and well-meaning yet exactly as relentlessly clueless as that boy, don't you think?"

This was so uncharacteristically profane, yet true, that Mercedes opened her mouth, then closed it. Rachel lazily played the opening notes of "Heart and Soul."

"My unsolicited advice? You need to find a way to prop up your artistic ego that doesn't involve undercutting me because I promise you I don't think of any of you at all when I'm planning what I'm singing next. Winners evaluate but don't fixate on their competition. Losers do. Just a word to the wise. I'm never discussing this again. It's over, forever. Think about it, co-captain. Or not. If you want me to be the captain, fine. Co-captain? I'm open to suggestions. You did a great job in my absence. You showed true leadership and I really appreciated the song you chose for the club to sing to me. If it means anything to you, I'm actually always very proud of you and I'm delighted you're a part of the club."

"But, again, this," she pointed between them, "whatever it is with us? It's over. I'll cut you for solos but I won't cut you personally. Please don't make it personal. I could easily ignore it but every person waiting in the hallway you're imagining doesn't actually love me might take it personally for me."

Mercedes was so stung that it took her a few seconds to say, "It's a deal. We're co-captains. And your opinion does mean a lot to me."

Rachel nodded. "Yours does to me as well. Leave now. I need to compose myself or my friends you don't think really are my friends might fuck you up. And Mercedes?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not fun to know but I know you and Santana will get your Grammys before I do."

Mercedes chuckled, "Santana? Seriously?"

"Watch and see." She crossed to Mercedes and hugged her, "I'm serious. This is over. Now." She gently tapped the girl on the cheek, "Argue with me about songs but I'm finished with your ego and petty sniping. It's not my job to get smacked around in Glee because you don't agree with me or feel confident enough to compete with me. Look at my lovely purple-green face. Sometimes people don't agree with you, don't think the sun shines out of your ass and will do anything they can to stop you. Deal with it. Grow up, Mercedes. I've had to and I have a few CAT scans and a head injury to prove it. I'm still here."

Mercedes looked at Rachel's discolored face for a long few moments and then only said, "Right." She grabbed her bag, but before she left, she pointed her finger, "I wouldn't have you hurt like that ever—not for anything in this world. You do know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"And I wasn't kidding with that song, you know." She sang, "Then I look at you…and the world's all right with me."

Rachel joined her, "Just one look at you and I know it's gonna be…"

They both took huge breaths and sang together, "A lovely day…"

The note went on and on and on and they smiled at each other even as they sang, knowing this would always be what they were to each other.

Friends, but that came second. Competition first.


Hearing this from the hall, Quinn said, "Typical."

"Completely, right? Makes you wish they had guns, not voices."

"Don't even—God forbid, S."

Brittany thought about that, crossed herself and said a quick five Hail Marys while she listened to the voices ringing through the closed choir room door.


After Mercedes left, Rachel took deep breaths as she slowly packed her book bag and met Quinn, Brittany and Santana in the hall.

"Nice to see Chocolate came out with all her limbs attached after your little sing-off."

Quinn was charmed, yet again, that Rachel went completely literal, "Yes. I beat her by about four bars. I could have gone perhaps eight to ten but there was no need to show off. I practice breathing exercises every day, limit my sugar and don't ingest dairy and she doesn't share those advantages. But it was a close call. She did a masterful job with her song choices and she is really trying, Santana."

Santana was equally charmed. "Yeah. Trying. In both the verb and adjectival uses of that word, I'd imagine."

Rachel grinned at her, "Adjectival. You're so hot."

Santana winked, "Surface of the sun, baby."

"And it's almost like your girlfriends aren't right here, people."

"Sorry cap. Frodo couldn't help herself but I understand. I am delicious."

Brittany nodded, "Totally."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "I always agree with you, Britts, about anything except fondue for Lord Tubbs but right now I'm pulling my big yellow whatever card on your girl."

"Whatever and out, capitan. Meetcha in the parking lot. Britts—you're on Rach duty—I'm going to powder my nose."

"San?"

"Britts?"

"That'll be super hard because you totally don't have any powder."

"And…you're so…totally correct, as always. That was just a dumb way of saying I need to use the bathroom."

Brittany smacked her forehead, "Oh right. Isn't that like something you say from back when girls had to show decorum about stuff like that?"

All three of them blinked at her. Brittany was so very often and randomly, completely on top of things.

"Absolutely, baby."

"Cool. So go powder your nose and we'll be in the parking lot."

Once Santana had departed, Brittany took the opportunity to half-whisper to Quinn, "I have to do this now while she's gone. Eight pack."

"What? No way. Really?"

"Totally."

"That's just…fuck."

"It's not your fault—you've been taking care of Rach and—"

"What's an eight pack?"

Now Brittany blinked because she suddenly realized it was probably really dumb to think that Rachel wouldn't hear what she'd said because she was, hello, right there or that she wouldn't want to know what it meant. It was taking time for her to get used to knowing they were four now, not three.

Quinn glanced meaningfully at Brittany, who winced even as she explained, "Rach, you know we live in weights and measures in cheer, not only for aesthetic reasons but for physical reasons because stunt cheering is a really dangerous sport. When San's abs are eight instead of her regular six-pack that always means she's down to about 90-92 pounds. She drops weight so quickly you wouldn't believe it when she's under stress. Coach doesn't weigh her anymore because she's always under but me and B keep track of it."

"Oh my God! How could I not have seen this? She's wasting away!"

"No she's not. And you can't say anything to her. I'll handle it."

"But she must be sick!"

"She's not sick; she's stressed. She's really small and her metabolism's so quick and weird it can be a problem but she'll be fine. I'll deal with it."

"Why is she stressed?"

Brittany shrugged, "Maybe you think she can eat or sleep when someone she loves gets her head broken but she can't and maybe you think she doesn't get super worried and crazy hyper about it but she does. But if you tell her you know she'll be totally loco, Rach. I can't even talk to her about it. Q always handles it and San always gets better."

"Exactly. Britts? You're with Rach tonight. I love you, Rachel, but S needs me, okay?"

Seeing the completely serious faces of her friends, Rachel said, "Okay."

Quinn Fabray: 8-pack, Mami. S with me tonight. B with Rachel. Call Mama Pierce?

A few seconds went by.

Maria Lopez: Pierce yes, and you? Good. I saw this happening but waiting for our B to say. My hija is a burro. Feed her—I think a cactus or two would be good

Quinn Fabray: Or three? With picante, extra thorns? :)

Maria Lopez: It is official. I'll sit next to you in hell

Quinn Fabray: I always knew I loved you for a reason, Mami. You always save me a seat!

She continued to text.

Quinn Fabray: S underweight. Needs food and rest. Same as usual. Rach with B

Judy Fabray: Got it. Feed her and put her to bed. Won't knock but let me know if you need me

Quinn Fabray: Thanks, mommy

When they got to the parking lot, Quinn said, "San?"

"Q?"

"New drill. Britts takes Rach home and you come with me."

"Why's that?"

"Eight-pack much?"

Santana pulled her ponytail free and ran her fingers rather violently through her hair. "Fuck you."

Quinn sang a lilting, "When you wish upon a star, you will get into my car…"

There was a very loaded silence before Brittany said, "I'm sorry, San, but I told Q because I was scared."

Quinn forced herself not to smile when Santana flopped for Brittany like a cheap paper plate under a load of hot gravy. "Baby, you were scared?"

"I was super worried. You're getting so tiny and only Q can help when you get like that. I'm sorry for telling."

"No, honey. Don't ever be sorry for taking care of me."

"I'm taking Rach home and Quinn will take you to her house. Okay?"

"Fine but I've only dropped a few pounds. I'm not an invalid."

"You've lost maybe 7% of your body weight in a week, bozo. Let me treat you to Casa Fabray. Something like a chocolate protein shake with ice, yogurt, bananas, then naptime. Our girls will chill at the Berry mansion. Already got it arranged with your parentals—Rachel can handle ours."

"I'm not lame enough to ask if I have a choice."

"Good. You don't."

"Didn't think so. Kiss Britts?"

"We're outside, San. Anyone can see us."

"And we care because?"

Brittany's smile was nearly luminous, "We don't care?"

"We don't. We're getting married and everyone on Earth knows we're gay for each other and I'm so sorry you're scared. I'll be fine."

Brittany took Santana in her arms, "I know that. Q will take care of you."

"She will. But you take care of me first, baby."

As they kissed in broad daylight in the parking lot of William McKinley High School, both Rachel and Quinn had to smile. And wanted to do the same thing. But not yet.


Karofsky ran down Kurt down in the parking lot before he'd gotten into his car.

Kurt felt his approach, wheeled around and put both hands out to stop what might be incoming, "David?"

The larger boy immediately realized he'd gotten too close in his enthusiasm, stepped away a few feet and said, "Sorry. Please. I'm sorry. Don't be scared. I just wanted to ask you something."

Kurt adjusted his posture from defense to offense. "Yes?"

"Rachel called me about the movie. I know a movie night'll be fun for Rachel and she did invite me even though everyone hates me but maybe that was just her trying to be nice so I don't know what I should do. Should I come?"

"Yes."

"Yes? That quick? That's your answer?"

"Yes."

"Yes? That doesn't give me anything, Kurt. I mean, that's not even a fortune cookie or Confucian, dude."

Kurt smiled, "I just knew you had a brain in there."

"Thanks. I guess." And then David looked at him in a way that Kurt felt both of them were completely unprepared for. "What's your favorite movie candy?"

"Candy?"

"Yeah, Kurt. I'm sure you've seen candy in the check-out aisle after shopping at Target, right?"

"I love Target!"

"Me too. But back to candy. It's like sugar overload in a package and you eat it during movies. Sound familiar?"

"I eat popcorn with extra butter during movies and do forty wind sprints the next day."

"Me too, except for the wind sprint part. But no candy. Wow. Seriously?"

Kurt looked around them as if he were divulging a highly sensitive state secret, then said quietly. "Fine. I'm not completely averse to admitting I have a desperate fondness for Sno-Caps."

David lowered his voice, "Sno-Caps it is, then. And you don't even have to sit next to me just because I'll be hitting you up with mad Sno-Cap action. I'll just sit in on the outskirts of 'Rachel's tossing another bully a bone-ville.'"

There was a long, long silence between them.

"You can sit next to me, David."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Of course you can."

"Cool. Sno-Caps it is and I'll bring a blanket because…" he walked backward as he pointed at Kurt and sang, "Baby, it's cold outside."

Kurt snapped to attention for a number of reasons, the first of which was, "You have a wonderful voice!"

David shrugged and winked before turning and walking away.


Kurt Hummel: 911 Rachel. My main tormentor and your second might have a crush on me. Eff you see kay? I MIGHT reciprocate. Advice?

Rachel Berry: David? Him? Make him work for it. Needs to show he's real or no deal. I do actually trust him, however. But he's been my bully long before yours so we know each other very well

Rachel Berry: Don't trust him until/unless he shows you complete respect. We single ladies need to stick to our guns :) And you know I'm going to tease you privately about David at the movie, don't you?

Kurt Hummel: Yes. Already dying a little inside

Rachel Berry: Kidding. I've never seen the movie so I'll ignore you and be fighting with Quinn for popcorn

Kurt Hummel: You've never seen The Princess Bride? Where have you been?

Rachel Berry: Eternally friendless, remember?

Long pause.

Kurt Hummel: Our loss, believe me

Rachel Berry: I want to kiss you right now

Kurt Hummel: If I were otherly-oriented, I'd not only kiss you, I'd give you the full bizz—but you're out of luck

Rachel Berry: My loss, I'm sure. Speaking of loss, what do you think Quinn would do if she knew of our illicit affair?

Kurt Hummel: Tell her chemical castration works just fine—physical castration completely unnecessary

Rachel Berry: Ha! I SO have to delete this off-hand reference to your testicles

Kurt Hummel: Off-hand? Testicles? Did I just mention dying?

Rachel Berry: Is testicularity a word?

Kurt Hummel: Is crazy ass bitch three words?

Rachel Berry: I lurve you muchly. Is that teen vernacular?

Kurt Hummel: I love you too. Is that teen vernacular?

Rachel Berry: It should be

Kurt Hummel: Agreed

Rachel Berry: Agreed. And I won't make fun. You know me

Kurt Hummel: I do—which means don't help!

Rachel Berry: You completely take the joy out of my life

Kurt Hummel: With my talent?

Rachel Berry: Please

Kurt Hummel: Burn?

Rachel Berry: I wish my cell had Quinn's eyebrows. I'd be raising one

Kurt Hummel: Scary

Rachel Berry: Yes. But reformed bullies are hot

Kurt Hummel: Oh dear. That means this convo is over. Although I'm thinking. Do all bullies have hazel eyes?

Rachel Berry: Uh, no. See Santana Lopez, Exhibit S. But David and Quinn yes. They both have beautiful eyes. Who would know better than I? Before you go? M and T killed Chaka, didn't they?

Kurt Hummel: Totally. First degree murder—premeditated diva-slap

Rachel Berry: I'm proud of them

Kurt Hummel: Me too

Rachel Berry: Tomorrow, Sir Galahad

Long pause.

Kurt Hummel: Authurian legend has always meant a lot to me

Rachel Berry: Me too. I called you Galahad for a reason

Long pause.

Kurt Hummel: You never cease to amaze me

Rachel Berry: Game on! I'm going to call Noah and me and B and N will go sweater shopping now!

Kurt Hummel: Oh. My. God.

Rachel Berry: Kids R Us is still open! Bye!

Kurt Hummel: You are KIDDING, right?

Rachel Berry: Perhaps! A hippogriff may be in your future


It was as natural as breathing for Santana and Quinn. Santana took a seat and Quinn brought out the blender, chocolate flavored protein powder, yogurt, ice and bananas.

"Study up, lefty, because it's bedtime soon."

Santana read history as Quinn pulverized an icy protein shake for her. She poured half in a glass and the other half in a cup, covered it and put it in the freezer. "Ice cream for later." She handed Santana her glass and stood behind her, wrapping an arm around the girl, "Let's get some history in."

They read together for the time it took Santana to drink her shake. Quinn took the glass, "Naptime."

Quinn changed into sweats and a t-shirt and gave Santana shorts and her Team Berry sweatshirt.

"Team Berry? Seriously?"

When Santana took her cheer uniform off, Quinn was saddened to see that her concern for Rachel had kept her from noticing what was right under her nose.

"Get in bed, simpleton."

Santana got into Quinn's bed and when Quinn joined her, she just frankly threw herself on top of the larger girl, "This sweatshirt smells like the midge."

"I know that. It's sopoforic, isn't it?"

"Which is counter-intuitive, when you think about it. Or her, actually."

"It is. And you're going to stop thinking—about anything and about her. You're going to rest with me."

Santana gripped Quinn's t-shirt and buried her face in the blonde's neck.

Quinn pulled Santana tighter to her and gently stroked the girl's back. "I know you've always had one lamb…and now you have another, right?"

Santana nodded.

"And your second lamb got hurt, didn't she?"

Santana nodded again.

"That's not your fault, San. You take such good care of both of them but you need to eat and you don't need to stay awake because you never have to. Not with me around. Who's in charge?"

"You, bitch," Santana whispered.

"Exactly. Sleep. I'm always watching. I'm sorry. It's weird for me too—to have another lamb. I fell down on the job with you and I'm sorry."

"Quinn, I—"

"No. Shhh. You can watch our girls but I will always watch you. Especially you. Go to sleep, S. I've got you. Our girls are safe and you know I'd step between you and anything in the world. Food and protein ice cream in a couple of hours. Rest now."

Santana fell almost instantly into a deep sleep and Quinn was amused, as she held her best friend, that snoring meant a lot to her at this point. She was just able to retrieve her phone from her bedside table.

Quinn Fabray: S fed and sleeping. Tell B. But not snoring. I'm bereft

Rachel Berry: Will tell B. I don't snore

Quinn Fabray: Flipcam says otherwise

Rachel Berry: Quinn!

Quinn Fabray: But saving for Youtube when you're on Broadway. Better that way

Rachel Berry: If we'd ever had sex, you'd never have sex with me again

Quinn Fabray: I SO don't have a Flipcam, Rach

Rachel Berry: Whatever. Celibate now

Quinn Fabray: Until we win Regionals? Guess whose mom's going out of town for the weekend after?

Rachel Berry: Seriously? We are SO completely having sex

Quinn Fabray: It's like you're a mind reader

Rachel Berry: All kidding aside, is S okay?

Quinn Fabray: She'll be fine. Don't talk to her about it and B won't either. It's our gig

Rachel Berry: You guys have stuff you know about—I've never known anyone enough to have stuff

Quinn Fabray: You do now, Frodo

Rachel thought about that. About Mercedes, Kurt, David and everyone in Glee, not to mention the blonde girl reading a book about an octopus on the bed beside her, Quinn on the phone with her and Santana sleeping beside her.

Rachel Berry: I'm a lucky girl

Quinn Fabray: Lucky us

Rachel Berry: Later? Love?

Quinn Fabray: Later. Love. Definitely love

Rachel Berry: Definitely

A/N More tomorrow if you want.