FINALLY, AM I RIGHT? With how long this took, I'm afraid that a) it would not clear expectations, b) people got too impatient that they just won't read it at all and c) it isn't very good. BUT, ONWARDS.

Thank you to everyone who encouraged me as I wrote this whenever I reach my darkest hours.

Updates are on Tuesday and Thursday nights Eastern Standard Time. I don't see the point of making you wait, dear reader, since the point of writing the entire fic before posting is so that the wait time is minimal.

While it's now only rated T, it will be bumped up to a rated E/M down the line.

The NYADA glee club sang the final note of their harmonious acapella rendition of "I Want You Back" in the middle of the quad, where a convenient campus tour group just passed by. As if it was not contrived, the tour guide stopped so the wide-eyed applicants could watch, alongside their parents. Once the performance ended, the visitors were the first ones to applaud, followed by the scattered student population. The glee club waved in every direction and bowed in unison.

"Great job, you guys," Rachel Berry, the club president, grinned at her group.

Their group of seven people trudged through the snow-covered path and into the student activity building where the student club offices were housed. The glee club's office was in the basement, along with the rest of the music-oriented clubs, because the hallways had the best acoustics. Sound carried to the main floor of the building, enough to create intrigue for students, but not enough to carry to the top floors where the less performance-oriented clubs would get distracted by the rehearsals. Tina, the treasurer, immediately sat in front of the computer once Rachel unlocked the door to the office. It was a cramped, windowless room lit by a harsh fluorescent light. The walls painted a dull cream, with barely enough for a computer desk, a shelf, and three folding chairs.

"The money finally came through from the student council, plus the money from this gig," she announced. Student Recruitment often hired performance clubs to draw in potential students by sending them to perform around Times Square, or to busk in the subway stations. Or, as was the case for the glee club, they were hired to perform around the campus where touring potential students – and their moneyed parents – could watch. "That puts us up right to the budget for the Underground Show Choir Competition. Plus with a little extra."

"Let's go out for sushi and drinks after!" Mike suggested.

"Only if we win," Rachel said. "Marley, contact the USCC and tell them we're competing again this year."

Marley, the vice president, gave a salute. "Roger that," she stepped away from her conversation with Beth to make the call. Rachel then took that opportunity to approach the girl.

Beth Fabray, a startlingly-beautiful blonde first year, with dark brown eyes and the jawline of a Greek goddess, was the only new member they managed to recruit that year. Even then, she was the one who approached the glee club rather than the usual new member campaign that happened during the first two weeks of term. Her audition song, she had explained, was the song her mom sang when she auditioned for her high school's glee club. Beth accompanied her rendition of "I Say A Little Prayer For You" with a dance.

Naturally, that endeared her to Rachel.

"How did you feel about the number? Are you getting more comfortable with public performances?"

Beth toyed with her long blonde hair and nodded. "I think so. The USCC performance makes me nervous thinking about it because it's a competition – meaning we can lose and I hate losing - but other than that, I think I'm getting the hang of it."

"It's not until after the winter break so don't worry about it too much. Although, it would likely mean we'd be out of practice given that we can't rehearse during the break…" Rachel chewed her bottom lip. "I suppose as long as we each practice our parts it should be a cinch to coordinate in a group setting when we come back from vacation."

Since the meeting ended and everybody dispersed, Rachel lingered with Tina to discuss the budget further. Beth hung around as well, chatting with Marley. Her shoulder leaned heavily against the wall, and she looked at Marley with such wide eyes. Once Rachel and Tina agreed on how to split the money between costumes and other expenses, Rachel left the treasurer to lock up the office.

Marley left a few minutes ago to head to class but Beth mentioned that she had an hour break, so she thought she might hang around the office to get some of her readings done.

"You didn't walk Marley to class?" Rachel teased, sitting beside the girl amidst the couches scattered throughout the hallway.

"Oh," Beth blinked. "Should I have?"

Rachel laughed. "Your crush on her is adorable. When I was your age…"

"You're only five years older than me."

"With age comes wisdom — sometimes, anyway."

They chatted for a bit, and wound up discussing winter break. Beth asked Rachel if she planned to go back to Ohio for the winter, but the older student shook her head.

"My dads are taking their second — well, I guess this'll be their fifth, honestly — honeymoon in Europe over the holidays, so there's really no point for me to visit Ohio since they're my only family there. I think I'll be staying here."

"Alone?" A look of concern crossed Beth's features. "That doesn't seem very festive."

"I'll be in New York," Rachel shrugged. "What more could I want?"

"I guess, but it's a different thing to spend Christmas, or even New Year's Eve by yourself — oh, I know!" Beth exclaimed. "Would you like to spend the holidays with me and my mom?"

Rachel raised a brow and held up her hands. "No, no. You should spend your holidays with your family."

"I will — you'll just be spending it with us, too. And you'll be doing me a favour — my mom doesn't really know I like girls," at this, Beth blushed. "Not that she's homophobic or anything. Aunt Britt and aunt Tana – my godmothers – are her best friends, after all — but I don't really want to come out to her at any point during the break so if you're there with me, all the attention could be on you and she'll ask me less questions! I'll ask my mom tonight," Beth rose to grab her things. "Think about it too, okay?"

Rachel had no choice but to watch Beth run upstairs. She sighed.

"Wow, Beth gets pretty intense," Tina laughed. "Kind of like you, when you were that age."

"Be quiet," Rachel said without any anger nor malice in her voice whatsoever.

Rachel did not have the chance to see Beth until finals were over when she called for a quick glee club meeting before they all parted for the holidays. She announced the setlist but told them not to worry about the arrangement just yet — she would work on that over the break.

"Rachel, my mom said she'd love it if you spend the break with us," Beth batted her eyelashes and adopted a demure and shy persona — at least it looked like she was learning something from her classes in NYADA, Rachel mused. "I told her about you and the glee club and she said she wants to meet you."

"Okay, okay, tone it down" Rachel rolled her eyes with a smile. "If you really don't mind having me in your house for a whole month, I'll go."

"Yay!" Beth clapped her hands together. She stopped bouncing long enough to rummage through her backpack and procured a printed train ticket. "Thank goodness, because she already bought and paid for your ticket."

Rachel's jaw fell and she palmed her forehead. "I'm beginning to see similarities between you and your mom and I haven't even met her yet…" She grumbled. "What if I said no?"

"Tickets are refundable within thirty days of purchase date," Beth stated as if she memorized the Metro North Rail terms and conditions. "This'll be fun! I'm so excited! Oh, and if you need to work on the song arrangements, we have a piano at home, if that'll help."

Beth continued to ramble on and on about the things she and Rachel could do while visiting her mom in New Haven, Connecticut, a two-hour train ride from New York. They would leave in five days, on Sunday, when the campus officially closed for the winter break.

"You're spending the holidays with Beth?" Marley asked Rachel, and Beth stopped bouncing — finally. "That sounds fun!"

"I am. Want to take my place, Marley?"

The look of panic that flashed through Beth's eyes was worth it, though it only lasted for two seconds before Marley put Beth out of her misery. "Sorry, can't. My mom's been looking forward to seeing me since midterm break. Maybe next time."

Rachel bade everyone to have a restful vacation as everyone parted ways. She remained at the office to clean up, since no one would be around for the next month or so. She unplugged the computer, made sure there were no valuables inside, before she closed the office door and locked it. Beth remained, sitting on the hallway couch, lost in thought.

"She said next time, so maybe there's hope," Rachel nudged Beth by the shoulders. "You should just ask Marley out on a date. Not to the student pub because you're underage, but… somewhere."

"What if she says no?"

"What if she says yes?"

"What if the date is awkward and she never wants to see me again?"

"What if the date is fun and she asks you out for a second date?"

Beth opened her mouth for another comeback but Rachel stood up with a small laugh. "You can come up with any scenario you like, but the best way to know what will happen is to actually do it. Are we taking a cab to Grand Central together or do you want to meet there?"

Rachel packed some food in her backpack for the train ride to New Haven. She and Beth planned to meet at Grand Central Station since Beth's overachieving personality got in the way — she wanted to talk to her professor about her grade for the final exam — which Rachel did not mind. She was the same when she was an undergraduate, after all.

"I'll see you in a month," Rachel told Tina and Mike who offered to drop her off at the station in Mike's beat-up car. "Have fun in Lima — as much fun as you can, anyway."

"Tell us all about Beth's mom when you meet her!" Her two roommates waved and drove off down to the busy New York streets. Rachel wheeled her luggage behind her and sought out the platform for the train that would take her to New Haven. Rachel caught sight of a blonde head and approached Beth who was already reading a book while she munched on a granola bar.

"How did your meeting with your professor go?" Rachel asked as they boarded the train. They took over two seats across from one another.

"Good — I persuaded her to bump me up to a solid A instead of an A minus. Which means if I keep my average, I'll be on honour roll," Beth beamed and flashed Rachel a peace sign.

Rachel laughed and got comfortable in her seat. "That's amazing. I'm happy for you."

The train announcements started and within the hour the clatter of the train against the tracks lulled Rachel into a dazed state. She admired the passing of the countryside — or rather, the nature landscape one saw while traversing the interstate. Snow dusted the fields, and Rachel noticed that the farther north the train pushed on, the thicker the snow covered the ground.

She really did brace herself to a lonely time during the holidays — it would not be the first time. Dating did not pan out for her, especially not when she was so focused on her studies and her budding career. She hardly had the time to do as Beth did — have a crush on Marley and not do anything about it. Not that it was a bad thing, but Rachel would rather be memorizing lines than deal with the distracting feelings of having a crush.

The cart that sold refreshments passed them, and Rachel watched in amusement when Beth purchased enough chocolate to give three people heartburn. She tried to wheedle what scant information Beth was willing to give about her mother, as a point of conversation, but the younger girl only smiled and licked her chocolate-covered fingers.

"Well, my mom likes long walks on the beach…"

Rachel rolled her eyes and let Beth go back to listening to her podcasts while she stared out the window to enjoy the rollicking hills, the stretch of the interstate highway as the train continued on to New Haven.

After the second hour, the train slowed to a stop and announced its arrival in New Haven Union Station. Rachel followed Beth out of the train, their luggage trailing behind them. Suddenly, Rachel felt a discomfort creep up her spine. She had never been in Connecticut before, let alone in New Haven. It was busy, sure. The stone arches, the wooden benches, and the lamps that hung from the ceiling gave the station a rustic feeling. It definitely wasn't New York.

"Where is she — oh! Mom!" Beth waved her arms and Rachel looked off towards the direction of where Beth was looking. The crowd parted and out stepped a woman — for which words to describe her escaped Rachel. She managed to control herself long enough for her jaw to not drop to the floor, though her heart did race like the clattering of the train against the tracks.

Beth's mom was beautiful. Laugh lines adorned the corners of her eyes as she caught a glimpse of her daughter. She was elegantly dressed in a green peacoat the colour of ferns that brought out the vibrancy of her hazel eyes, a cream cable knit sweater, and a long tweed skirt. She wore calf-high leather boots.

She engulfed Beth in an embrace, laughed the sort of laugh that bordered on infectious. She leaned back to get a good look at Beth before smothering her face with kisses — but she paused.

"Do I smell Reese Cups on your breath? Did you buy me one?"

Rolling her eyes, Beth procured a pack of the aforementioned chocolates. "Of course. Mom, this is Rachel."

Truly, Rachel would have been content with watching this woman who was so beautiful that it rendered her speechless. But now that her attention was on her, she cleared her throat and held out her hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fabray — "

The older woman smiled. "Please, just call me Quinn. Not to mention — I'm unmarried," she winked and Rachel had to resist the urge to clutch her chest. Her heart seized. Quinn took Rachel's hand and gave it a squeeze.

Rachel wished she did not have to let go.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, Rachel. Beth talked about you a lot," Quinn glanced at her daughter who smiled. Rachel followed the two blondes to the parking lot. Quinn popped the trunk of her sedan and Rachel and Beth both lifted their bags into it.

"I was in glee club too, back in high school," Quinn continued as she started the car and clipped her seatbelt. She pulled out of the station's parking lot. "We won the show choir championship once — and by the seat of our pants. Honestly, it's a miracle we even won."

"Beth mentioned that her audition song was the same one you did for your glee club audition."

"She did?" Quinn looked surprised, and one look at Beth told Rachel that she did not mention this to her mom at all. "Oh sweetheart, you're adorable," Quinn giggled and leaned over the console to kiss the side of Beth's head. "She didn't tell me, but I'm so flattered."

"Anyway," Beth interrupted with a huff. "Did you do it?" She asked her mom. Rachel was more than happy to sit in the backseat and watch the mother and daughter catch up on all the conversations they missed. It made Rachel miss her dads, but it also made her wonder what it was like to have a mother.

"Do what?" Quinn asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb, mother."

"No, honey. I did not go on a date," Quinn said as she rolled her eyes.

"You promised." Beth turned in her seat to address Rachel. "Did you know my mom has been single in forever — "

"That makes me sound like I'm ancient."

" — and I don't know, I'm just worried, so when I left for New York I made her promise to go on one date — a single date — before I go back for winter break and she didn't even do it! I just don't want you to be lonely, mom."

"Why would I be lonely when I have you to nag me?" Quinn asked sweetly.

"But half the time I'm in college!"

"Your aunts keep me company, you know?"

"All the way in Los Angeles? I mean, friends are one thing. Love and romance is another thing entirely! Dad has no issue with dating, so — "

"First of all, we both know your dad is — "

"A ho."

Quinn threw her head back and laughed. "Not my first choice of word but yes, he's a ho. And I don't really want to be comparable to him."

"Well, fine," Beth conceded. "You don't have to date around as much as him, but — "

"It's not for lack of trying, sweetheart. The people I meet, there's just something that's incompatible. There's something missing. Or maybe they just don't like me. Maybe your dear old mom's just not attractive anymore — "

"That's absurd," Rachel muttered, more to herself, but judging from the way Quinn glanced at the rearview mirror with sparkling eyes, the older woman heard her.

The Fabray house was a colonial structure in the middle of winding New Haven suburban streets. A two-feet mound of snow walled the sidewalk and the edges of the lawn. The red tip of a lawn gnome's hat poked out of the snow, its paint chipped and half-faded. Rachel climbed the three steps of the porch, following the two Fabrays as they talked a mile a minute about Beth's classes, Quinn's work, and everything in between.

The interior of the house, with its white walls and large windows that let the scant winter light in illuminated the space with such stark brightness. Books and vinyl records crammed the shelves that stretched from one wall to another, and above the shelves were framed artworks, from prints of paintings (Rachel could identify the Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog and La Bella Rafaela any day), architectural sketches of historical New Haven buildings, a printed photograph of Emily Dickinson with Sue Gilbert, and burlesque posters. There was a record player, a miniature bust of Oscar Wilde, and sprigs of spruce poked out of a vase. An upright piano sat near the sliding glass doors that opened into the backyard.

The home appeared cluttered without feeling oppressive. Lived in.

"Your home is beautiful," Rachel said in soft awe. She learned from her dads to always compliment the home, regardless. But in this case, Rachel meant it whole-heartedly.

"Mom works for a home interior and architecture magazine so she knows a lot about decor," Beth said from the kitchen.

"Oh, great. How nice of you to finally tell me something about your mom."

Beth laughed. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Water would be great, thanks."

Quinn tossed her car keys in a wooden bowl by the front door, shrugged off her coat and swept back her golden hair that reached a few inches past the pale column of her neck. Rachel caught a peek of a gold cross necklace that rested against the hollow of Quinn's neck. When the older woman turned, Rachel immediately looked away.

Dating in New York was hard, but she didn't think it was that difficult that she would be thirsting for her friend's mother.

"I'll show you to your room, Rachel," Quinn said as she unravelled her scarf. God, even the simple way she said Rachel's name, the way her mouth formed around the phonetics of it… Rachel forced herself not to think too much about it or she would lose her mind. She followed the older woman upstairs with her luggage.

"That's the bathroom, the first door to your left. Beth's room," Quinn gestured to a door adorned with stickers and held the girl's nameplate. "My office," Quinn pointed further down the hall that was ajar. "I always keep the door open — I don't like being isolated. Doors would only close if I have a phone call to make. That's my bedroom," she said of the double-doors. "And here's the guest room."

Quinn led the way into the spacious guest bedroom. Inside was a queen-sized bed and a writing desk. The walls were white, except for the accent wall, which was painted the same blue as the night sky.

"Make yourself at home, okay? I know you must feel like you're impinging, but you're not. I would not have invited you if I felt that way," Quinn touched Rachel's shoulder and looked at her with soft eyes, eyes that were one step away from buckling Rachel's knees — seriously what was wrong with her? "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

It might just be Rachel's imagination (or wishful thinking), but the way Quinn said it, paired with the way she looked at her — expectantly, teasing — held an implication that made Rachel's blood boil. She clenched her jaw and smiled at Quinn. She managed to stammer out a half-coherent response. "I-I'll let you know. Thanks again for letting me stay here."

"You're welcome," Quinn removed her hand from Rachel's shoulder, and Rachel could only hope that her disappointment was not evident in her face. "Dinner is at seven."

Rachel dumped her backpack on the floor and collapsed on the softness of the bed. The clean, laundered scent of the sheets rose to meet her, and she closed her eyes to bask in that comforting smell.

She had a month to spend in this house, and already she was halfway to being a wreck for Beth's mom – if she wasn't already. There must be some kind of friend code being broken as Rachel thought of the dancer's grace Quinn possessed when she leapt over a puddle, the way she threw her head back whenever she laughed. How she swept her blonde hair off her face when the winter breeze had other ideas…

And she knew she said she had no time for crushes, or feelings that had nothing to do with advancing her career, but… it was the winter break! Maybe it was why she was far more emotionally-volatile than normal.

Grumbling to herself, Rachel sat up to store her clothes in the empty drawers. Refusing to wallow in her attraction (and instead, perhaps, immerse herself fully into it) Rachel left her bedroom that would be hers for the month to head downstairs. She stopped by the foot of the stairs when she heard Beth's voice, as well as Quinn's, from the kitchen.

"...dating anyone?" Quinn wheedled. "Don't tell me you're just studying and not enjoying your youth!"

"Mom," Beth whined, and Rachel took that moment to make her entrance. The younger girl shot Rachel a grateful look. "Rachel, can you please tell my mom I have a social life?"

"Beth's pretty active in our glee club," Rachel offered. "She might have an executive position by next year, most likely."

Quinn leaned her elbow against the counter and eyed Rachel with a raised brow — which she had to fight tooth and nail not to just stand there and stare into Quinn's eyes, the golden ratio of her face, the way she smirked.

"I'm glad you're making friends," she returned her attention to her daughter who was currently peeling potatoes over the sink. "But that's not what I asked. I asked if you're dating anyone. Rachel, perhaps?"

Rachel's eyes widened, and so did Beth's. "Stop it, you're making Rachel uncomfortable." Beth threw a potato peel at her mom, and Quinn shrieked in laughter when it stuck to her cheek. "Rachel's cute and all, but I don't think it'll work out."

"I like older women," Rachel blurted out, with a smile so it would come off as a joke — but then when Quinn gave her a look, Rachel froze and sputtered. "I - I - I mean…"

Quinn giggled and tossed the potato peel in Rachel's direction, only for it to narrowly miss her.

"Geez, Rachel. Keep it in your pants," Beth teased.

Dinner with the two Fabray women was eventful, to say the least. Rachel knew, from the moment Beth auditioned for NYADA's glee club that she was smart, interested in a lot of things, and could talk about anything to anyone. Now that Rachel met Quinn, she could see where Beth got her diverse erudition from.

Quinn was charming, a gracious host. With her beautiful laughter, the table was always in a bout of giggles. She served first and ate last. She always ensured that Rachel's glass of water was full.

"Would you like some wine, Rachel?" Quinn asked when she rose to grab a bottle from a shelf she had at the kitchen. "I have red, rosé, white, and orange."

"What's orange wine?" Rachel asked.

"It's white wine, really, but the grape skins were not removed during fermentation. A cross between a red and a white, I guess you can say."

"Ooh, can I have some rosé?" Beth did not wait for Quinn's express permission — she went and grabbed herself a wine glass while she looked over the opened bottles of wine, decided on one, and carried it to the dinner table.

Quinn looked affronted. "Are you twenty-one? Is she twenty-one?" She asked Rachel, returning to the table with a glass of orange wine and two wine glasses. "Did I sneeze and suddenly three years passed and I'm thirty-seven? What's happening here?"

"The only rule you had for alcohol is to not drink around people I don't trust," Beth said as she poured herself half a wine glass. "This is all I'll drink, I promise."

Rachel blinked. If Quinn was thirty-four now and Beth is eighteen, then…

"Doing some quick math in your head, Rachel?" Quinn teased. She poured amber wine into a glass and offered it to her. "I was sixteen when I had Beth."

"Oh," Rachel took the glass and hazarded a sip. The flavours that coated her tongue were complex, strong, and dry. "Age problems were never my strong suit," she said, to dispel any awkwardness that may have arisen from her curiosity. But judging from the way Quinn smiled, she did not think much of it.

"It's okay, I'm not ashamed of it," Quinn said. "I'll tell you the story later, if you're up for it. Beth hates it when I re-tell it."

"It makes me cry every time," grumbled the younger blonde. And, sure enough, she had tears in her eyes. She wiped them away hastily.

They resumed conversation about lighter topics, mostly of Quinn asking Rachel about her field of study, her focus being on the Jewish legacy of Broadway musicals. She explained — mostly to Quinn, since Rachel was Beth's TA in Broadway History — the roots of Broadway, and to her credit, Quinn did not look bored. In fact, she looked riveted, more than anything.

"I knew you two would get along. You two are both nerds," Beth grinned while sipping her rosé. "May I be excused? I need to call my high school friends so we can figure out when we can all meet up."

"Sure, sweetheart. Thank you for cooking dinner."

Beth downed the rest of her wine and rose from the table. She ran upstairs and the sound of her bedroom door slamming echoed throughout the house. Thus leaving Rachel alone with Quinn.

It might have been the sheer placebo-strength of the wine, but in the dusky New Haven light, in that warm dining room with the aftertaste of junipers and hazelnut that clung to her lips, with Quinn looking at her with a lazy half-smile, Rachel felt as if she was burning.

She cleared her throat and folded her utensils on top of her plate. "I should do the dishes — it's the least I could do." Rachel shot up from her seat and carried her plate and Quinn's to the sink, where Beth had placed her own before she went back to her room. Rachel surveyed the deep sink, found the sponge and the bottle of dishwashing soap, and proceeded to turn on the tap.

She did not hear Quinn come up behind her, but she did smell the older woman. Her perfume, something mildly fruity with the hint of spring, followed by the warmth radiating from her body, dangerously close to Rachel's back. "You don't have to do the dishes," came Quinn's soft, wine-soaked voice, so close to Rachel's ear that she felt the warm gust of Quinn's breath prickle the back of her neck. Quinn did not sound drunk, no, but Rachel certainly felt like she was. "Finish your wine. I'll be with you in a second."

You promise? Rachel thought, and she had to bite the inside of her bottom lip to keep herself from saying it. She reached for a dish towel to dry her hands with, but with Quinn still lurking behind her, her back pressed against the older woman's front.

Rachel squirmed out from between Quinn and the sink to dry her hands. God, she must be radiating heat like a furnace. Her cheeks felt lit up by a blush. But Quinn looked unphased. She had an easy smile on her face as she rinsed the plates to slot them into the racks of the dishwasher.

"Get out of here," Quinn said playfully, flicking cool water on Rachel's face. "Sit in the living room. Put a record on."

Glad for something to do, Rachel took her wine glass from the cleared table and perused the records stored in milk crates in the shelves. Quinn's music tastes were varied, and Rachel was shocked to find the original 1968 record of the Funny Girl soundtrack.

She immediately put it on.

The scratching of the needle against the record never failed to send shivers up Rachel's spine. She wandered around the living room and stood in front of the wall of personal photos that appeared in a certain chronological order. The first frame began with a photograph of Quinn in a blue hospital gown. Her sweaty hair smoothed back and clung to her scalp. In her arms a pink, wrinkly baby. In the photo, Quinn looked exhausted, but her bright smile, the tenderness with which she held the newly-born Beth made Rachel's heart lurch in her chest.

On and on the photographs continued. Quinn in a red graduation gown, a two-year old Beth in her arms wearing the graduation cap. Beth's first day of school, her face in a pout, her eyes rimmed red, and a sheepish Quinn holding her hand. Beth's high school graduation photo, where she stood between Quinn and a man in an Air Force blue suit whom Rachel assumed to be Beth's dad. Both parents stood proud of their daughter. Like a happy family that Rachel could not touch.

"Sometimes I can't believe that photo was taken only a few months ago," Quinn appeared from the kitchen, the half-full bottle of the orange wine in one hand, her glass in the other. She stood dangerously close behind Rachel. Through the sliding floor-to-ceiling glass doors, the sun had long set. The ink-dark sky, lit by sporadic street lamps, and the low lighting of the living room, gave off a mood that Rachel was not sure she should allow to colour the scenery. They sat on the couch. Rachel endeavoured to sit on one end to give Quinn more than enough room to sit, and yet she sat so close to her that their thighs touched.

"I'm sure it wasn't easy having a baby when you were just a kid, but Beth is amazing and so are you," Rachel found herself saying. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and stared at the moonlight pooling on the steamer trunk of a coffee table – one that looked like it was salvaged from the ruins of the Titanic. "I already had a difficult time balancing my academics, my extracurriculars, and my social life in high school – I can't imagine doing it with a child."

Quinn laughed. "Well, I certainly didn't manage on my own."

"How did you manage? If you don't mind my asking."

Quinn's soft eyes focused on Rachel. For a while, she did not say anything. In that moment, Rachel did not experience her rough and tumble mix of emotions surrounding the older woman beside her. Not that her attraction towards Quinn receded into nothingness — that seemed impossible — but for the entire duration of Quinn's story, Rachel only saw her. No projections, no fantasies. Just Quinn, beautiful as fire lit from within.

"I was a cheerleader in high school — captain of the Cheerios — don't laugh, our coach always said the cereal was based on us and not the other way around — "

"How could that be, unless your coach is ancient?"

Quinn giggled and Rachel adored the way her lips melded against the rim of her wine glass, how she clasped it by the stem between thumb and forefinger. "No one knows how old coach Sue was. She got pregnant because she wanted a baby at some point after I graduated, so, who knows. Anyway, as you can imagine, every cheerleader had some sort of body image issue. One day, when I was not feeling… particularly attractive, I went to this guy, Puck. He's the school's slut, so I thought, if he still finds me attractive then maybe I don't look that bad. Which doesn't make sense. By definition, he didn't care who he slept or made out with, but that night, it was me."

The older woman sighed and swirled the wine in her glass, the burnished amber liquid caught the low warm light of the lamps that illuminated the living room. "So we made out. I let him feel me up," Quinn's voice hitched in her throat, and Rachel's heart pricked something fierce. "I told him, I'm not ready for sex, so he got me drunk on wine coolers."

Quinn must have read the horror in Rachel's eyes and nodded somberly. "He didn't use protection. It was probably in the top twenty of the worst first times for a teenager. Was your first time any better?"

Rachel flushed. "With a boy, it was as about as you'd expect. But with a woman… Well, with my first girlfriend, it was definitely more satisfying."

The blonde woman smiled. "I love that for you." She licked her lips and continued her story.

"Being pregnant at sixteen, as you can imagine, was difficult. I got kicked out of the Cheerios, I was tired all the time. I managed to stay in honour roll though, and if it wasn't for the glee club, I wouldn't have known what to do. Then my dad found out so he kicked me out of the house, and I lived with Puck for a time until a friend of mine let me stay at her place. When I went into labour, we just finished our number for Regionals — which we lost, by the way."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault," Rachel said. "Even if it was, you were pregnant."

Quinn grinned. "Thanks, Rachel."

"At first I thought I would put her up for adoption. In the end, obviously I didn't. I don't have a good reason — it was a gut feeling, you know?" Quinn finished the wine in her glass but did not refill it. "I kept Beth. High school was difficult, but thanks to my mom divorcing my dad, she took me back in and took care of Beth while I went to school. Everyone from the glee club helped. Then I got into Yale."

Rachel whistled. "That's amazing."

Quinn chuckled and leaned her head against the curve of Rachel's shoulder. At first, she tensed. But it was, perhaps, the lateness of the hour, the emotional turn of the conversation, and the alcohol. So Rachel relaxed herself into Quinn's proximity.

"Yale was a bit more difficult to manage with a four-year old. I didn't have the time and the energy to make friends, let alone date, so I suppose that's where that came from," Quinn said, referring to the earlier conversation in regards to who Beth was dating — if anyone at all. "But thankfully, Yale had childcare services for students. I graduated top of my class and had job offers coming out of college, so I took a starting editorial position in a home interior magazine to build my portfolio."

"And now I'm here," Quinn held out her hands and sighed.

"Does Beth still see her dad?" Rachel asked. She longed to run her fingers through the variegated shades of Quinn's blonde hair.

"From time to time," Quinn drawled through a yawn. "After I told Beth the whole story, she said she wanted to see him less. Something about absence making the heart grow fonder or something." Quinn offered Rachel a lazy smile, half-sleepy, half-drunk. "Thank you for listening, Rachel."

"Anytime, Quinn," Rachel chuckled. And she meant it.

Rachel helped the older woman stumble up the stairs and into her bedroom. The light in Beth's room no longer peeked out from the gaps of the door so they supposed she was asleep. Rachel nudged the double doors of the master bedroom open and Quinn entered, tripped, and fell face-first on the bed.

Quinn burst into a bout of giggling while Rachel helped Quinn settle at the center of the queen-sized bed and tugged the blankets over the blonde woman.

"You know, I don't think you're all that drunk," Rachel teased while she fluffed the pillows under Quinn's head. "Not five minutes ago you were explaining to me the history of Epicureanism."

"You got me," Quinn grinned. She did not look her age then – not that she was any more or any less attractive. The sparkle in her eye, the way her lips stretched in a bright grin, they all made Quinn appear childlike. "Good night, Rachel. See you in the morning."

"I look forward to it," Rachel said. The older woman chuckled. Blushing something fierce, she left the older woman and closed the double doors of the bedroom behind her.

In the guest bedroom of the Fabray house, Rachel changed into her nighttime clothing of a shirt and sweatpants. It was cold in the house, but not enough for her to start shivering. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, then moisturized. Rachel settled in the bed and saw a text from Tina that asked her to call when she could.

"Hello?"

"Tina, I think I'm in love."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rachel heard distant voices and the sound of the phone clattering. "You're on speaker and Mike is here. Can you repeat what you just said for the class?"

"I'm in love," Rachel repeated. "With Beth's mom."

Her announcement was met with silence.

"It's only been a few hours since she left New York and she's already like this," Tina remarked.

"How big is the age gap?" Mike asked.

"Eleven years, but that's besides the point – "

"Okay, okay," came Tina's exhausted voice. "When you say you're in love, that used to mean, like, ten different things, so I'm not going to get worried just yet." Her voice changed gears to sound into something excitable. "What's she like? What's Beth's house like?"

Rachel spent an hour talking about Quinn, the house, and then Quinn again, in hushed tones because she had no idea how voice carried in the Fabray house and she would hate for Beth – or even, god forbid, Quinn – hear about how beautiful and how refined Rachel thought Quinn Fabray to be.

"Wow, sounds like you've got it bad," Tina said. "But be careful, okay? The way you talk about her, it makes it sound as if you're willing to risk it all."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rachel huffed. "I'm not much of a gambler."

They hung up after Tina and Mike talked about Lima. There was nothing new, of course, Mike chimed. Same old corn fields. Same old people. Oh, and I'd have you know, they painted the silo off Route One a deep firetruck red, rather than the classic brick red? Also, Finn said hi.

Rachel put her phone on the nightstand with a dreamy sigh. She thought about Quinn again – her strength, resilience, and grace under pressure as she faced a teen pregnancy made Rachel swoon, though really, did it change what she felt for the older woman other than admire her all the more? For a moment, she wondered what it would be like, had they attended the same school, were the same age. Would they have been friends? Rachel was confident that she would be as enamoured of Quinn in this alternate world she dreamt up as she was at that very moment.

In the late hour, she drifted asleep, thinking about the woman whose room was right next to hers.