XXV

Beca doesn't even kid herself into thinking she's going to get her phone back any time soon. Being grounded isn't anything new in this house, but the difference is that she's also suspended from school.

David also changed the WiFi password, which leaves her basically living in the Stone Age, but at least he doesn't confiscate her laptop. She has school work and homework to keep up with, which CR will be tasked with delivering to her, but she's essentially cut off from the world, and it's probably what she deserves.

Right now, it's also what she wants.

She feels like shit, and she just wants to exist in it for a while.

It's almost poetic, the way everything completely fell apart. She's essentially burned all her bridges, leaving her isolated here in a family that will never truly know or understand her. This is a family that she'll never be a part of, and maybe she should just accept that and stop trying to make concessions for her father.

He's never going to prove he loves her, because he's never done it before.

Other people have and will, and Beca just threw it all back in their faces like it means nothing to her. God. The things she said to Quinn. The way she said them.

Beca definitely deserves to sit here, alone, left with her own thoughts.

If anything, it could have been worse. While she's here, she's facing only some of the consequences of her actions. It's maybe a blessing that she doesn't have access to her phone, given everything.

There isn't anyone she wants to speak to, anyway.


Chloe doesn't want to think it, but it's actually a small relief not to have to face Beca at school. She doesn't even know what she'd say to the brunette. She can't even think of anything to say to Aubrey, either, who seems to have worked out that it was her and her inability to face her girl problems that was responsible for the Bellas' demise.

It's just simpler to focus on schoolwork and less on how all her relationships seem to be falling apart at the seams. Less simple to know that in just a few weeks, Dr Holding is going to be cutting into her and fiddling alarmingly close to her potential money-maker.

Chloe managed to get herself into this mess by avoiding things and repeatedly claiming she's not ready for anything.

Well.

The world is tired of waiting.

Monday is a tense day, the Bellas all carefully avoiding one another. Even the Treblemakers remain scarce, news of the brawl filtering through school and making it sound much bigger than it was. The fact it happened at all still catches Chloe off guard, particularly when she remembers Beca was actually suspended over it.

Tuesday isn't any better, probably made worse by the fact they have Cheerios practice after school. In class, Dr Fabray has been extremely focused on the work they're doing, getting through the week's work at a pace they're not used to. It's probably the reason Chloe's unsure what to expect when she arrives at the gym with Lori and Isabella.

Aubrey won't confront her if she's surrounded by their friends, which is Chloe's only comfort at this point.

Dr Fabray is still in her tailored trousers and blouse when she eventually enters the gym, and Chloe isn't the only one who finds it strange. She's usually changed into some sort of gym attire, whether she participates or not, so this is different.

So is the moment she says, "I thought we'd do something different today." There's something about her that just isn't quite right. Something seems to have changed, and Chloe can only wonder if the weekend's events are responsible.

It's nothing noticeable unless you're actually looking, which is exactly what Chloe is doing. She just seems distant, detached in a way she never was before.

Dr Fabray runs a hand through her hair as she paces in front of where the squad is spread out on the bleachers. "Maybe have a bit of fun before we dive into preparing for Nationals."

That gets a verbal reaction from the girls, which makes her smile.

"Don't get too excited," she warns. "I've just been thinking, you know, that I don't involve you enough in our routines. I choreograph most, if not all of them, and I thought it would be interesting to see what you guys can come up with."

There's even more of a reaction now, murmuring breaking out among the girls at the prospect of getting to contribute.

"I think the best way to do this is to get into smaller groups and come up with something short, doesn't have to be more than a minute, and we'll see what kind of routines we can put together that'll make sure we win Nationals." She stops moving and faces them, expression serious. "I don't remember if I mentioned it, but I really am proud of all the work you've done this year. Getting through Regionals is a massive accomplishment, no matter what anyone says, and it has been a pleasure getting to work with you."

For a terrifying moment, Chloe thinks she's about to say some kind of farewell, which would be heartbreaking and completely out of the blue.

Instead, she claps her hands once and says, "Before you get started, though, I want twenty laps," with a smile that doesn't seem to reach her eyes. It does widen when there's collective groaning. "Oh, come on, at least I'm not making you do squats for an hour as well."

Which might have been preferable, really, because Chloe isn't really in the mood to interact with other people at the moment. If she's running, she doesn't have to talk or listen or actually participate in social situations.

But she's not that lucky and, once they've run their laps, Lori grabs onto Chloe's arm and drags her over to where Sadie and Isabella are waiting with Aubrey and Sarah.

It's fine.

Everything is fine.

If Chloe finds herself constantly distracted by the way Dr Fabray makes a point of avoiding approaching their group, spending time with several others instead; that's for only her to know. Chloe doesn't want to consider that the woman is actually avoiding her, but there is a chance Beca told her about Chloe's (lack of) reaction to her confession.

Dr Fabray must be disappointed in her. Chloe's disappointed in herself. At this rate, Beca's likely never to speak to her again, which Chloe's going to have to accept, but she's trying not to think too hard about that.

One thing at a time.

Sadie actually has some good ideas, Aubrey talking them through with her. Lori is as interested as Chloe is, which isn't much at all, and they're able to see out the rest of their practice without actually getting a lot done.

Dr Fabray dismisses them with, "Good work, ladies; I'll see you all on Thursday," and then she's gone, leaving the gym without lingering the way she normally would.

Isabella looks at each of them. "That was weird, right?" she says, "Coach is acting weird, right? Please tell me I'm not the only one who's noticed?"

Chloe wisely doesn't say a word, but she does exchange a look with Aubrey for the first time, that one look holding an abundance of meaning that Chloe's not sure she can decipher. Aubrey looks away first, and Chloe opens her mouth to say, "Maybe she has somewhere to be."

Isabella shrugs, dismissing the behaviour as an anomaly.

Chloe makes her own excuses to leave as soon as she's able to, making up some story about homework, and then leaves her friends behind, probably making them wonder about her own weird behaviour.

Chloe half-expects Dr Fabray to be waiting somewhere, but she's nowhere in sight. She's not even in the parking lot when Chloe eventually emerges, her car already gone. It all just feels -

It's as if someone came in and lifted them all up, gave them a shake, and then dropped them in different positions, and just expects them to continue as if nothing has changed.

But.

Everything has changed.


Quinn meets the adult Emma at the Lima Bean after her shift ends and before Quinn has to pick up their various children. Rachel's late afternoons are starting to fill up even more with musical rehearsals, and Quinn actually looks forward to this time she gets to spend with her kids.

Especially with her going to be away for four days in the coming week.

"I may or may not have skipped out early," Emma tells Quinn as she settles into her seat. There's a hot chocolate in front of her, and Quinn can just about smell the hint of cinnamon coming from the mug. "Don't tell my wife."

"Your boss, you mean," Quinn says, chuckling.

Emma ignores her ribbing in favour of sipping her drink and sighing. "So, you called?"

Quinn hums, drawing her own cappuccino closer to her body. "I finally told Rachel about Kyle," she says, "On Saturday. After he was at the same restaurant as us. She didn't take it well."

Emma winces. "You saw him?"

"He wasn't even trying to hide."

Emma takes out her little notebook, checking her notes. "Why didn't you call then?"

Quinn has no explanation. He was just there, out in public, and she knew she couldn't keep it from Rachel anymore.

Emma must see something in her expression, because she moves on and asks, "Saturday, you said?"

Quinn nods. "At Simply Thai," she explains, "Leslie hasn't called with any updates, but I assume you've spoken to Detective Rollins?"

Emma smiles. "It's a bit of a joke now," she says, "I've joined the Blonde Squad of Protection."

"Is that what Leslie is calling the three of you?"

"I face off with criminals on a daily basis, but I am legitimately afraid of her," Emma tells her. "She's your agent?"

"You should meet our lawyer," Quinn says, "The most unassuming man you'll meet, but he will bury you in litigation without blinking an eye."

"Basically, I don't want to get on your wrong side, huh?"

"Not so much that," Quinn says, "Just don't go anywhere near my family."

She taps her nose with her finger. "Got it."

Quinn clears her throat. "I actually wanted to discuss something else with you," she starts, feeling oddly nervous.

Emma pauses. "Oh. Are we done speaking about Kyle?"

"I've spent enough of my life talking about him," she says, "He's just a problem that exists, and I'm trusting you all to handle it."

"The way we didn't the last time?"

Quinn presses her lips together. "You know, I've had a bit of a rude awakening the past few days, and I'm perhaps not quite focused on the things I want to be. Kyle derailed a lot of my life the last time, and I'm trying not to let that happen again."

She's going to do it all on her own, this time.

"What do you need from me?" Emma asks.

"Are you from Lima?"

She shakes her head. "Not too far from here, though," she says. "I've lived a lot of places. Why?"

"How did you end up here?"

"My wife's family is actually from here," she says, "Town royalty, if you ask me."

"Civil servants?"

"She tries to do good work, but there's only so much support she can get when she's - when she's you know."

Quinn clenches her jaw, hating just how far they haven't managed to come. "Does that mean I'm actually talking to the wrong wife?"

"Probably," Emma allows, "I thought you were going to try to convince me to join a running club or something."

Quinn laughs. "Is that something you'd even be interested in?"

She shrugs. "I mean, I was a few seconds slower on my last fitness test, so I have been meaning to get back into it," she says. "Regina hates cardio. And the outdoors."

"Rachel loves her trusty old elliptical perhaps almost as much as she loves me."

Emma meets her gaze, something rather significant passing between them. Quinn isn't sure what it is, but she gets the feeling she's found her own ally here.

Quinn sips her coffee, feeling weirdly at ease. "So. A running club, huh?"

"Reckon you could keep up?" Emma asks, and Quinn raises her cup in a silent toast.

"I guess we'll just have to see."


Truthfully, there's a part of Chloe that really wants to skip Glee on Wednesday. She doesn't think she can face the Bellas. She doesn't think she can face Dr Berry, either.

Chloe doesn't believe that their director would actually make mention of what Beca must have told her, but Chloe also doesn't think they'll be able to avoid the truth that something did happen to alter the rhythm of their group.

Dr Berry is clearly not the type to let things lie, and Chloe walks into an alarmingly quiet Choir Room. Everyone is already in a chair, Dr Berry seated in her own in front of them, all of them just waiting.

Chloe feels all their eyes on her when she enters with just seconds to spare, shuffling towards one of the chairs in the front row. Some eyes remain on her, but she's ignoring them all the way she's ignoring everything else.

Dr Berry waits until everyone is settled to say, "Now that we're all here, I think it's best if we all have a little talk," and she sounds so much like a parent right now. "Our bid for show choir Nationals is over, I'm afraid. We've worked hard this year, put together some good sets, so I'm extra disappointed that we went out the way we did. Regardless of what happened before and after our performance, I wished for a better showing from us. We deserved better from ourselves.

"Having said all of that, I'm still proud of what we were able to accomplish this year," she says. "We had quite a few forces working against us, not limited to the Treblemakers." Her nose wrinkles in distaste. "We're a very new group, all of us still finding our feet and our voices, so I think we had to temper our expectations despite it all. There is always next year to compete, but just because we don't have Nationals to look forward to anymore, does not mean that the music stops." She offers a smile. "Perhaps now we can just have some fun."

Dr Berry leans forward in her chair, expression turning serious. "Before we do that, though, I think it's important that we unpack what happened on Saturday."

If Chloe wasn't already sitting so tensely, she's certain every muscle in her body would stiffen. This is the last thing she wants to be doing, but even she knows there's no escaping it.

Dr Berry looks at each one of them, eyes piercing, searching. "I have some idea of what happened," she says, "and it probably isn't fair to do this without Beca here, but there has been some behaviour that is particularly worrying from not only us, but the Treblemakers as well. I know those of you involved in the brawl have been appropriately punished, but I do want to add that physical violence is not how we resolve issues here. Am I clear?"

Heads nod in something like agreement.

"I'm aware of several instances of… conflict, and I don't want to air any of that, but I do think it's important to take the time to apologise to ourselves and one another, accept that what's happened has happened, and try to move on from it all."

Chloe suspects Dr Berry already knows it's easier said than done, but that seems to be all she's willing to say on the matter.

She claps her hands once. "Now," she says, getting to her feet, "Why don't we do something upbeat?"

"Yes please," Stacie declares.

"Any suggestions?" she asks, and they immediately start throwing out song and artist names. Chloe hears Childish Gambino, Jessie J, Culture Club, and even some age-old Spice Girls before someone says Beryl Archer, and something very specific happens to Dr Berry's facial expression.

Cynthia-Rose starts nodding. "Oh, yes," she says, "The new song they released on Valentine's Day."

"There's a key change in there I've been dying to try," Emily says, latching onto the suggestion and running with it. "I wish I was in love, just so the song could apply to me."

Dr Berry's eyes are a little wide as she says, "Um, maybe - uh, something else maybe? It's not exactly the upbeat number I was envisioning."

"But it's so pretty," Emily says.

"We could actually do their song, Ruin My Life," Cynthia-Rose suggests instead. "That one is definitely upbeat. I bet Lilly would love to do the Snix rap."

"Oh, God," Dr Berry murmurs, more to herself than anything. "I - okay, that's probably better. Yes." She turns away, muttering something about 'Santana' and 'hose herself,' which is already suspect.

But then Dr Berry makes a point of not singing a single word of the song as they put it together and -

See.

Chloe is a musician. They all are, in various ways, but Chloe loves music in a way probably rivalled by only Beca. Dr Berry's reaction to merely the mention of Beryl Archer is truly very suspect. If Beca were here -

If Beca were here, Chloe doesn't know what she would be doing. But Beca isn't here, because she got suspended after getting into a fight, a day after she came out to Chloe and got a terrible non-reaction out of her.

Nope.

Better to focus on Dr Berry.

Even better to focus on nobody, at all.

The problem is that, if Chloe isn't looking inward, and not looking outward either, then where is she meant to be looking?


Rachel has pages full of notes on the musical to get through, but she's been putting it off in favour of seething over Kyle's reappearance and moping about the fact Beca feels as far away from them as she's ever felt.

Mostly, she's just worried about her wife. Rachel hasn't been able to put a finger on it, but there's something sitting on Quinn's brain that's been deeply affecting her all week. It's worse because it's obviously not related to Kyle, which is alarming in itself.

They're supposed to be safe here, but who can ever truly say they're safe in an American high school?

When the call arrives on Thursday, Rachel is sitting in the auditorium and waiting for rehearsals to begin. Ordinarily, Beca would already be here, but she's -

She's not.

Rachel sees the Caller ID when she lifts her phone, heart jumping into her throat. With a shaky hand, she swipes right and answers with a soft, "Lou, hello."

"Rachel," Lou says, "honey, how are you?"

Rachel definitely can't answer that truthfully, but she also doesn't want to lie so blatantly. "No complaints this side, and how are you doing?" she says. "How are you feeling?"

"Today is definitely a better day," Lou informs her. "Was feeling strong enough to be able to talk to Beca on the phone, but I haven't been able to get through to her for a few days now. I considered calling her father, but I would rather not. Is she okay?"

Rachel hums. She would love to avoid David Mitchell as well. "I wouldn't say she's okay, no," she reveals. "There was an incident over the weekend. Beca's been suspended, and I believe her father confiscated her phone."

Lou is quiet for a long moment. "An incident?"

Rachel really doesn't know how to explain what happened, because she doesn't actually know. There were just three days of not enough communication among all of them, and then it exploded in the worst way.

"Rachel?"

"I have my theories, but we haven't really had the chance to talk," Rachel says. "There was a fight between our show choirs, and we're still dealing with the aftermath."

"Beca was in a fight?"

"She's got quite the right hook," Rachel says, trying and failing to make light of what has turned into a very confusing situation.

"That's probably her mother's influence," Lou says, "Toni was tiny dynamite, as well."

"She feels very far away right now," Rachel admits, and she doesn't think it's just circumstance. It feels like a conscious thing Beca has done, and Rachel can't understand why. "But one of my other students has been taking her work home for her, so she's keeping up to date, at least."

"She's never cared much for school, that one."

"I think she recognises it's one of the only ways she'll be able to get out," Rachel says, and it reminds her of Quinn as a teenager. Of herself, too. Of everyone who knew they had to perform to a certain level in order to escape an unsavoury home situation.

"I worry about her," Lou says. "I always wish I could have done more."

"You should call the house," Rachel tells her. "I doubt they wouldn't let you speak to her. She probably needs to hear from you, anyway. Everyone - " her voice breaks when she hears the doors open behind her, and she turns to see Quinn entering. "Uh, yeah, I think everyone needs a friendly voice right about now."

Lou must hear something particular in her voice, because she quietly asks, "Do you?"

Rachel keeps her head turned and watches Quinn approach, her mouth pulled into a small smile. "Probably," she admits, sighing. "She just - I don't like that she's so far away."

"I'll call you once I've spoken to her," Lou assures her, right at the moment Quinn settles into the seat beside her.

"Please," Rachel says, just managing to keep the desperation out of her voice. It's been a rough week for them all, for some more than others. "Thank you."

"No, Rachel," Lou says, "thank you."

When the call ends, Rachel turns to Quinn and says, "My love, not that it's not wonderful to see you, but aren't you supposed to be at soccer practice right now?"

Quinn just looks exhausted, lost in a way she hasn't looked since they were in their twenties and she was still trying to figure out her place in the world. "Val and Nick are running drills," she says, "I'm headed over in a few."

Rachel reaches out to touch her, fingers against her cheek. "Are you okay?"

Quinn nods. "I thought we could have dinner with your father tonight," she suggests, "Before I leave tomorrow."

Rachel's breath catches at the reminder that Quinn is actually leaving for New York the next day. She has her book launch to attend, as well as press obligations, and Rachel hates that this is the first release she won't actually be attending with her.

"Does he know?" Rachel asks her.

"I'm going to call him now," she says. "We'll go after Mia's done with karate and just meet you there."

"Baby," Rachel says, "I know you're not okay. I'm looking right at you. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine, but please stop pretending everything is fine."

Quinn licks her lips, crease in her brow. She's quiet for a long minute, and then she very quietly asks, "Would you still love me if I was no longer a teacher?"

Which, to be fair, is the last thing Rachel expects Quinn to say. "What?"

Quinn can't look at her, head turned away. "I got into this business to be better than I had, you know," she says. "I wanted to help kids the way I wasn't afforded. It was different with college students. I just don't feel like I'm making a difference here."

"What?"

"All I want to do is help, but I'm clearly not," Quinn says. "I don't know how. I mean, look at how much of a mess everything is. What have I even been doing?"

Rachel really has no response for her.

"I'm stressed and overworked and exhausted and I'm putting in so much of myself and it just - nothing is working. Nothing has worked."

"Quinn?"

"Will you still love me? I need to know."

Rachel turns Quinn's head to be able to see her eyes. "Firstly, my feelings for you are not based on the career you're in," she points out. "Secondly, what's brought this on?"

"I just don't feel as if I can do enough as a teacher here," Quinn says. "I'm not helping. I'm just not doing enough."

Rachel has felt panic before. It's generally a part of her personality, just sitting beneath the surface, and she can feel it rising now. "You are."

And, now, Quinn laughs, dark and a little sad. "Am I?" she asks, and her tone is sarcastic. "It's different here. I don't - I feel tied to this job where I'm not making the kind of difference I want to. I can do more good… elsewhere."

There's something Rachel is missing here; something important.

Quinn offers a small smile. "Maybe I can be a stay-at-home mom, you know? Siobhan would probably love to get chapters quicker, and I'll be able to travel for Lucy Quinn without having to reschedule my entire life. I can be an extreme soccer mom now, and a karate mom, and start exploring all those cookbooks we've accumulated over the years. I could even tailgate."

It's unsettling, just how much thought Quinn seems to have put into all of this. "You've got it all planned, huh?"

"And maybe I can put more focus into philanthropy," Quinn adds, and her voice is quieter now. It reminds Rachel of the time Quinn mentioned her desire to help LGBTQI+ teens in a more formal capacity. She actually sounds almost worried to bring it up again after the way Rachel essentially shot her down - however gently it was.

Rachel sighs. "Is this something we're talking about, or have you already decided?"

Quinn's expression shifts with something like guilt, and she says, "Bit of both."

Rachel closes her eyes for a moment. When she reopens them, Quinn is looking at her like she needs Rachel to say something specific; like she needs reassurance of a certain kind, but Rachel just doesn't know what that is.

Whatever Quinn is looking for, she clearly doesn't find it, and she leans back. "I should probably get going," she says, "Kids are waiting on me."

Rachel doesn't want to let her go; just wants to hold on and try to figure out what's changed. Her fist closes around the fabric of Quinn's blouse. "Wait," she says. "Can you just - I don't know what's happening."

"Nothing's happening," Quinn assures her. "I'm not about to quit in the middle of the school year, Rachel. It's just an idea I have. We can keep talking about it." She gets to her feet now, dropping a kiss to the top of Rachel's head in a way that's meant to be loving but feels avoidant. "Don't worry, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Which would be believable if she didn't already feel oceans away.


Aaron yells, "Beca, phone!" from downstairs, and it takes Beca a few seconds to realise she's meant to get up off her bed and go downstairs. "Beca!" he yells again.

"I'm coming!" she shouts right back, and then forces herself to get up. She's been reading - if you can believe it - and her book falls to the floor with a hard thud when she moves.

It's been a long day of doing nothing, really, and getting beckoned down the stairs is the most excitement she's had all week.

Aaron is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, cordless phone in his hand, and Beca is left to wonder who could possibly be calling to speak to her until she holds the phone to her ear and hears her grandmother's familiar voice.

Beca's reaction is instant. Her body deflates, tears immediately pooling in her eyes. She turns away from Aaron, sitting on the third step and says, "I miss you," with every ounce of emotion she has left.

Grandma Lou breathes heavily. "My little grasshopper."

Beca ducks her head, her tears threatening to fall. She's vaguely aware that Aaron moves away, and she leans her arm against the wall, shoulders slumping. "You called the house."

"Rachel suggested it when I couldn't get through to your cell," she explains, and Beca's heart jolts at the sound of Rachel's name.

"You talked to her?"

"I was worried about you," she says. "She seemed the best bet, but even she's a bit in the dark. What happened, Bec? She mentioned you were in a fight?"

Beca closes her eyes. "Do you remember that one weekend when Mom took me to that music museum?"

She spends a moment thinking about it. "The weekend you ended up getting you both thrown out of said music museum?"

"Yip."

"I remember," Grandma Lou says, "why do you bring it up?"

"Mom explained it to you by saying that it was just too much at too high a level for too long a time, right?"

"Something like that."

"Yeah."

Grandma Lou sighs. "Beca, you know better than to get into fights."

"I do," she agrees. "I just - he talked about my mom. I don't remember much after that."

"You always were very protective of the people you love," she points out, "Even to your own detriment."

"I almost got expelled."

"And that would have been warranted," Grandma Lou says, entirely unsympathetic. "Why didn't you, then?"

"Rachel."

"Ah."

"I messed up really badly," Beca admits. "With her. With the Bellas. With Chloe, and with Quinn. God, you should have seen her face. She's never going to talk to me again."

"Who?"

And Beca feels the ache in her chest bloom even now. "All of them." Every single one of them. She can see them now. Chloe, caught off guard in the worst way, expression disbelieving and panicked. Rachel, surprised and horrified to find Beca essentially attacking another student.

And Quinn, whose pained expression is seared into Beca's brain. She didn't realise just how powerful she was until that moment.

"It's going to be okay," Grandma Lou tries to assure her. "It's nothing that can't be fixed."

Beca doesn't believe that. "I don't know, Gran."

"You'll try anyway, won't you?"

Beca wipes her cheeks with her free hand. "I told her," she says. "Chloe. I told her. About me." Her voice sounds sad to her own ears, so her grandmother must be able to tell it didn't go well at all.

"Oh, honey."

"I don't know what I was expecting, but it - I never knew it could hurt like this," she explains, free hand pressed to her chest where a renewed ache is blooming. "I just - all I want is my mom, because she'll know how to fix it; she always did, and - "

"Beca, what?"

She wipes at her eyes again, feeling more tears fall. "She's not here," she whispers. "She's not here. She's never going to be here ever again. She's gone. She's gone forever, and she's never coming back." The tears keep coming. "And it's like nobody even - it's like they forgot that I lost my mom. I'm never getting her back. Nobody can replace her."

"Of course, Beca," Grandma Lou says, and there's a different tone to her voice now. As if she's figured something out that Beca wasn't sure she was even revealing. "Nobody can replace her."

"But - "

"But what, honey?"

"Quinn knows how to fix it, too."

"Oh, Bec," she says, because there it is. There it is, right there. "I'm sure she does. Honey, it's okay if you let her."

"But - "

"You are not somehow overriding the memory of your mom by allowing another woman to take on a similar role," Grandma Lou says, and her tone is firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "You're allowed to love them and let them love you."

Beca sniffs. "It doesn't even matter," she says, "I already ruined it."

"But you're going to try to fix it, aren't you?"

"Do you think they'd let me?"

"I think that you've managed to surround yourself with some pretty smart people, so why don't you answer that question yourself?"

Beca sighs. "If you say so."

"I'm one of those smart people too, you know?"

"You're the smartest, Gran," Beca agrees. Then: "I didn't even ask, but how are you?"

"Oh, you know me," she says, predictably evasive, "Not much to complain about."

"Are you sure?" Beca asks. "You've been - you've kind of been acting like Mom did when, you know, she was - "

"You do realise Toni was my daughter, right?" Grandma Lou says. "She learned everything from me."

"Is that why she was convinced putting peanut butter in her burger was basically the second coming?"

"You've still never tried it, have you?"

"I have taste buds, Gran."

"Mention it to Quinn next time you see her," Grandma Lou says, and Beca's tentative smile freezes on her face. "She'll agree with me."

"Because you're both psychopaths."

"Who also both happen to love you."

"Quinn doesn't - "

"Beca."

Her mouth snaps shut, her tears finally dried up.

"You and I both know that the only thing your mother would have wanted is for you to be safe and healthy and happy and so, so loved," Grandma Lou says, "Wherever and whomever it comes from."

Beca shifts, her bottom starting to hurt from sitting on the hard step beneath her. "It's what I want, too."

"Me three," Grandma Lou says. "I think there are a lot of people in your life who want those same things for you. All you have to do is let them."

Truthfully, Beca didn't know she needed to talk to her grandmother this badly. Just to be able to speak freely and experience no judgment. To be able to reveal all her thoughts and know Grandma Lou is in her corner.

When the call ends after Grandma Lou mentions she's expected for dinner at her neighbour's, Beca sets the phone in her lap and scrubs her face with both her hands. She's exhausted after all of that, somehow trying to make sense of everything they discussed.

It's a lot.

It's when she opens her eyes that she sees Sheila. She's just standing in the archway, eyes on Beca. Which is weird, of course, but Beca's more concerned with how much of the conversation she heard.

"That was my grandmother," Beca says.

"I know."

"She called me."

"I know, Beca."

Beca gets to her feet, her legs feeling a bit like jelly. From her position on the first step, she's basically Sheila's height, and the woman isn't as imposing from this position.

She never was.

"You could have said no," Beca says. "When they were trying to figure out what to do with me after my mom was gone, you could have just said no to my coming here."

Sheila's expression shifts. "What would have happened to you, then?"

"Does it matter?" Beca asks. "It wouldn't have been your problem."

"You're my husband's daughter," she says, "It's always going to be my problem."

Beca hands her the phone. "I guess I'm sorry about that," she says.

Sheila takes it. "I guess I am, too."


It is a strange, strange thing to have her mother take her to the airport. Quinn texts that she can't make their Friday coffee meeting because she's flying to New York, and Judy immediately offers to drive her to Columbus.

Frankly, at this point, Quinn will take anything to avoid having to have any kind of serious conversation with Rachel. Her wife has the kind of eyes that tell Quinn she's not going to be able to get out of it, but she can at least postpone it.

It's one of the reasons she agrees, at least. The other is that she's used to spending an hour of her Friday afternoon with her mother, and she doesn't actually want that to change.

It's just two hours now, the two of them going to be in a confined space for the first time since Quinn was a teenager.

Quinn makes sure to leave while Rachel and the kids are still at school, going home right after her last class lets out and gathering her bags. She's packed mainly formal clothing, work attire for upcoming interviews and the book launch party. But she's also packed sweats, because she truly can't wait to be able to laze about with Santana and Brittany, who are going to be making the trip to the city to see her.

Judy arrives exactly on time. She actually arrives early, Quinn can see her pull up in front of the house, but she only texts on the hour, and it actually makes Quinn smile. Judy's probably as nervous about this as Quinn is.

There's no going back now.

Quinn leaves small notes for the members of her family on the kitchen island, puts on a happy playlist for them to come home to, and then walks out the front door like she's about to face some kind of battle in New York. Judy hasn't asked why she's making the trip, and it takes Quinn nearly nineteen minutes into the drive to realise she's making a point not to.

Quinn looks out the window as the world speeds by. "Thank you for doing this," she says. "You know you didn't have to."

"I know," Judy says, "I wanted to."

Quinn clears her throat. "My new book is out tomorrow," she explains.

Judy looks over at her. "I thought it was coming out in two weeks," she says, frowning. Then she smiles. "Oh, is this some kind of insider info?"

Quinn laughs. "It's a surprise release, yeah," she says. "Scheduling things has been really tough, with work and the kids and competitions and - yeah, it's been tough."

Quinn has had to work hard to be able to accept what she is and isn't capable of; what she can and can't do. She's had to learn so much about herself to get to this point. To be able to tell these words to her mother, she never thought the day would come.

Judy is quiet for a moment, digesting Quinn's words. "You're doing great, Quinn," she finally says. "I think, from what I've seen, you have your priorities in the correct order, which isn't something I could have said about myself when I was your age."

"You were always so worried about keeping up appearances," Quinn says, and she's no longer concerned about how her mother receives her words anymore.

"I was," Judy agrees. "Sometimes, I still am." She sighs. "I suppose I just wanted life to be easier for us, with less scrutiny, but I just made it harder."

Quinn sucks on her teeth for a moment. "What happened with Russell?"

Judy's grip tightens on the steering wheel. "It felt good, to be wanted again," she reveals. "They were hard, those years without him."

"And with just me, you mean."

"Do you remember what it was like?" Judy says. "When you came home."

"We were roommates rather than mother and daughter," Quinn says. "We've never really known how to talk to each other, have we?"

"No, I don't suppose we have."

"I've talked about it quite a lot in therapy," Quinn tells her. "We worked out that one of the reasons I never could quite talk to you is because I was so terrified of saying or doing something that would end up with me being kicked out again. When I figured out I was gay, I knew it was inevitable, but I didn't - there was no point in even telling you until I was with Rachel. And then I did, and you proved me right."

Judy doesn't say anything for a long time, the car filled with Top 40 playing from the radio. "I never told your father," she says. "When you stopped coming home, he just assumed it was because he was back in my life. Only Frannie knew, and she - " she stops. "Well, your sister has always been as stubborn as her father. I think, even now, she doesn't know what she wants, when it comes to you."

Quinn can't quite digest that. "You didn't tell him?" she asks, because her father definitely knows. She received a drunken call to prove it.

"If he knows, it didn't come from me," she says. "Frannie might have told him, but it never came from me."

"Why did you get divorced then?" Quinn asks. "After I was gone? Drew mentioned it was when he was in high school."

"You've met Drew?"

"New Year's Eve party, yes, but the older ones came to our house for a barbecue once," she explains, because there's no use hiding it. She has relationships with these children, and she's going to fight to keep it that way.

Judy smiles softly, visibly pleased. "We were separated," she says. "Not long after you came out, we just - we were never right. He didn't change as much as he wanted me to think, so we lived separate lives, but then he wanted to get remarried to an actual child, so we finally just made the divorce official."

"He's remarried?"

"As far as I know," Judy says. "Frannie talks to him on the holidays, but it's my understanding that his new wife is younger than even you are, which is very weird for her."

Quinn actually shudders, trying not to think too hard about that. "Must be awkward."

"He's her problem now."

Quinn glances at her. "And you're not dating anyone?"

She laughs in surprise. "Oh wow, no," she says. "I have my hands full already, thank you very much. I'm no longer lonely enough to go looking for bad relationships. It took me a while, but I've finally learned from my mistakes." She accelerates slightly to be able to overtake a slow-moving car. "I've learned from the mistakes I made with you, as well."

"What have you learned, Mom?" she asks, because maybe Quinn had to go through all this pain so that Nick won't have to. It's a price she'll pay all over again to save her nephew from being cast away from his family for loving Val the way he does.

"I was wrong, Sweetheart," she says, and Quinn feels like she's sixteen all over again. Lying in a hospital bed, her daughter somewhere far away, and her mother telling her they can be a family again.

Quinn left that hospital scarred in far too many ways.

"What were you wrong about?"

"I have this friend, Stella," Judy says. "She has a granddaughter who came out a few years ago. It was something she really struggled with, trying to align her faith with what we're taught is wrong. It was watching her work through it, watching her reassess what it means to be a loving and serving Christian to her that almost gave me the permission to do the same."

Quinn shifts uncomfortably. That's not really as nice to hear as Judy probably thinks it is. "Years, huh?"

Judy sighs. "By then, I didn't think I could just - I wouldn't have even known how to start that conversation, Quinn. Would you have even let me?"

Truth be told, everything that's happened between them since Quinn's return to Lima is nothing she ever allowed herself to think about. To have any kind of acceptance from her mother; it's still just so wild to her.

"I don't know," Quinn admits. "I don't think I could have known how I would have reacted. I pretty much just accepted I would never be part of your family again, and I learned to live with that."

"I'm so sorry," Judy says, and this apology feels heavier than all the other ones. "I have so much still to work on, but - I think I also accepted I would never get a chance to be part of your family."

"Look at us now."

Judy offers her a genuine smile. "Look at us, indeed."


Maria is already waiting pitch-side when Rachel and the children arrive. It's the Beansprouts' turn to play the Beetroots - a team that Quinn isn't particularly worried about, but it's still another game she's missing, and everyone in attendance can feel it.

Rachel knows Quinn is conflicted, wanting to be many things to all of them, and just not able to be able to do everything. Right now, she has to be the author Lucy Quinn and not the soccer mom, Quinn Berry-Fabray. Right now, she gets to be in New York with all their old friends, and Rachel is trying not to be envious.

She just really misses her wife.

Arriving home after another tense Glee lesson the day before, all Rachel wanted was to collapse in her wife's arms, but she rather opened the front door to the sound of Canyon City playing throughout the house, and she nearly burst into tears.

She also really misses Beca. It's been torture not being able to communicate with her, but Lou did call back to assure her that Beca is alive and well, and dealing with a lot more than Rachel even knows. Lou didn't offer any insight, but Rachel suspects it has to do with Chloe in some way.

Quinn, too, who has doggedly refused to speculate on how Beca is doing since the aftermath of the fight. Rachel has been tempted to ask her flat out, but she also knows Quinn will clam up quite considerably in mere seconds if she asks her questions too directly.

What Quinn needs is some time and space, her focus on the one thing she has some control over, and Rachel is going to give that to her. They're already lucky enough to be able to do their 'side jobs' remotely, but sometimes there are things expected of them in a formal capacity.

Rachel's agent has been trying to get her to record her next album back in New York, because of the proximity to other creatives, but she's not budging. Ohio is where she'll make her music, and that's final.

"I think we're all going through withdrawal," Maria says, catching Rachel's attention just before the game is due to start. "It feels like forever since we've seen Quinn."

Rachel manages a smile. "Oh, I'm not the only one missing out on the eye candy, hmm?"

Maria doesn't bother responding. Just shakes her head, visibly amused, and Rachel is thankful for her every single day. "Where is she, anyway?"

Well.

Rachel definitely can't answer that question.

"Um." She wracks her brain. "You know how Quinn was a lecturer before," she starts, "She's actually presenting one of her papers at a conference."

"Oh wow."

It's not really a lie. Technically, Lucy Quinn is presenting her work, but it just happens to be a paperback rather than an academic article.

"I'm very proud of her," Rachel says, and she truly is.

"I'd love to read some of her work."

It takes everything Rachel has not to say, you already have. The words are right there, waiting on the tip of her tongue, but she manages to stop herself. They have a plan.

Okay, so they have part of a plan.

With Quinn in New York when the book comes out, it's likely their plan might not work, but they're going to give it a good go, and then see what happens. There's no way they're going to rush the Big Reveal now.

Rachel can almost forget about it once the game starts. She's trying to pay closer attention to Emma when she plays. If she intends to immerse herself in what her daughter absolutely loves, then she's going to have to make the effort to watch the game.

It helps that Mia is still taking diligent notes for when Quinn gets back. They all make such a competent coaching team, each one of them contributing in his or her own way. Quinn should be very proud.

"I'll make sure she sends you something," Rachel tells Maria, and takes far too much pleasure in what she's actually saying. Hah. Maria has no idea what's coming her way.

Because, not even ten minutes later, Maria deigns to check her phone while Rachel is focused on watching Emma dribble past another set of defenders, and she actually screams. Loud enough that heads swivel to look at her in alarm. Maria's eyes are focused on her phone, her eyes wide in disbelief, and Rachel has an idea what's got her reacting like she's just won the lottery.

"Mom," Val calls out, half-concerned while his attention is on the game. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Maria can't form words, thrusting the phone at Rachel. Ah. There it is: a surprise announcement from Lucy Quinn, saying that the new book is actually out today and not in two weeks' time, as was initially marketed. If Maria's reaction is anything to go on, there must be similar responses happening around the country right now.

"Guess that's your Saturday gone, huh?" Rachel says, entirely too casually.

"Does that mean my pre-order is ready?" Maria asks, and her leg is bouncing. It's actually the funniest thing seeing this normally-so-stoic woman actually get excited about a novel.

"Should be," Rachel says, though she knows that Quinn may or may not have put a hold on her order with the intention of delivering it herself. It's going to drive Maria insane, and Rachel is here for all of it.

"Oh my," Maria says, taking the phone back. "My entire day has changed. Joe wanted to go to the cinema, but we definitely can't do that now."

Oh, poor Joe.

Really, poor everyone, when Maria realises that she's not getting her copy today. The book store clerks who have to deal with her ire deserve a signed copy of their own. One of these days, Quinn should just go in nearing closing time and sign as many books as she possibly can, just to boost the store's sales.

"Definitely can't," Rachel agrees, already amused. "This takes preference."

"Definitely," Maria agrees, eyes glued to her phone.

Rachel glances to her left, where Quinn might have been sitting before their other lives decided to take over. Her chest aches already, missing Quinn the way she does.

Hurts even more that Quinn isn't here to experience this, as well.


It's actually worryingly easy to slip into the schmoozing required of a book launch party. It's a closed event, no press allowed, and it's the one thing Quinn has always been firm on. This celebration is for only them; this team of people who have worked tirelessly to get her work to market.

There's an undercurrent of something, though, and Quinn suspects it's partly to do with the quick changes in scheduling, possibly even Kyle, or more likely to do with how the new novel will be received. Reviews can be brutal at the worst of times, but Quinn has essentially taken a crime series and added a layer of romance that might be unexpected to some.

Well.

The amount of fanfiction available tells a different story, and she can only imagine the boost the numbers will get once the television series is on the air. She's looking forward to it, now willing to get more involved, if they'll let her.

She'll make it work, somehow. Summer's around the corner, anyway.

She likes that she's excited about her writing again; excited about the prospect of what more can happen with the worlds she creates. It's the one thing that does get her excited about any of the various work things she's involved in, which is -

Maybe it's time to dedicate more of her attention to something she actually enjoys. She hasn't lived forty-one years not to try to be as happy as she can be.

"You know you don't have to look so worried," Siobhan says, bringing Quinn a glass of champagne and giving her a particular look. "I'm the one who should be doing the worrying."

Quinn takes the glass from her but doesn't drink. "But you don't even look it."

Siobhan shrugs. "You and I both know we wouldn't be publishing this novel if we didn't believe in it," she says. "We've actually been waiting for something like this, you know? Waiting for you to write about your own community."

Quinn glances at her. "Oh, I see," she says with a little laugh. "You're not even concerned with the fans you'll lose, because you know you're getting a whole different set?"

"Drink your champagne, Quinn," she says. "Get drunk enough that the reviews won't even matter in the morning."

Quinn lifts the glass to her lips, only to stop when her phone starts to vibrate in the blessed pocket of her dress. She already knows who it is, and she sighs.

"What?" Siobhan asks.

Quinn takes out her phone and shows Siobhan the fifteen missed calls and endless texts from an unknown number that is actually Kyle, demanding to know where she is and where she's disappeared to. Quinn can't quite block an unknown caller.

Siobhan's eyes widen. "Has Leslie seen these?" she asks. "Has Jamie?"

Quinn nods. "I take screenshots without ever opening anything and send them to the various people involved." She puts her phone away. "Rachel has Deputy Swan's number, as well."

"You're actually worried about that, aren't you?"

Quinn is desperately trying not to be. "This doesn't seem like stable behaviour," she says, "There's no saying what he'll do. Especially with my being out of town."

She shakes her head. "We should have done more when you were still in New York," she says, "I don't have the same influence in Lima, Ohio."

"Hmm, it seems you're not as important as you like to think," Quinn says with a smirk, and Siobhan bumps their hips together.

"Let's try not to worry tonight, okay," she says. "For this one night, we're just going to drink champagne and enjoy the fact that you're probably going to make us millions."

Quinn laughs. "Priorities, huh?" she jokes, and then does as instructed.


Rachel is there 'in spirit' by also being there via FaceTime. She actually calls Brittany on Sunday morning while Quinn and Santana are out for a run at Central Park, and it's the better decision she makes, because Brittany always has had a knack for understanding people's emotions before even they do.

"She's stung," Brittany immediately says, "Hurt in a way she didn't expect. It's like someone put her in her place, just when she was about to break free, and now she has to take the time to accept it for what it is."

Which, to be fair, makes absolute zero sense to Rachel. She just doesn't know how it could ever relate to Beca. What happened? Rachel wishes someone would just tell her.

"Otherwise, how is everything going that side?" Rachel asks, because she's been reading the reviews this morning, and they're -

They're actually fantastic. So much more than Rachel or anyone was expecting, given the way the story has gone. Lucy Quinn is being praised for being a mainstream crime fiction novelist willing to write an authentic story that just happens to have a queer romance.

Rachel has never been more proud of Quinn, in terms of her career. It's something Quinn has wanted to do for some years now, almost biding her time as she makes a name for herself and establishes her own voice.

Now, she's going to use it to drag all her fans into a present and future that is fair and just, and she's going to do it with a female law enforcement officer who happens to fall in love with her female crime-fighting partner.

Quinn has written it so well that every part of it feels organic. Nothing has been forced; not a word written to appease anyone other than for presenting the characters as they are.

"They're going well," Brittany tells her. "Q didn't sleep at all. She's wired on caffeine, so San took her out. The boys are still asleep. It's weird being in New York with only her. We definitely miss you and the kids."

"We all wish we were there, too," Rachel says, and she's never meant it as much as she does in this moment. It's Sunday morning, Matty already up and about, and Rachel hasn't missed Quinn this much in years.

In some ways, it's worse than a retreat, because Rachel's starting to get the feeling Quinn wouldn't return unless she absolutely had to. Which she does, of course, because her family is here, but Quinn's reluctance can be felt from miles away. They have some difficult conversations coming their way.

Rachel sighs. "Has she talked about Beca at all?"

"Not a peep."

Ah.

Rachel knows something significant has to have happened there.

"She has talked about Judy a bit," Brittany reveals. "And Hiram."

Rachel closes her eyes. "I don't know what to do," she admits, feeling this weight she's successfully kept at bay grow heavier. "I can't stand it when people hurt my family, but I don't know what to do when it's my family hurting my family."

"He's your father," Brittany says, easy. "You've already forgiven him, which you're allowed to do. Quinn will, too."

"Because she loves me," Rachel says, "And she's so used to doing what's expected of her to try to keep the peace."

"She does love you," Brittany agrees. "And, yes, she's become a peacemaker when she's not using her sexy body to incite riots, but she'll do it because Hiram is her family too, and she's somehow managed to forget that the people we consider family are still capable of hurting us."

Rachel spends a moment turning those words over in her head, realising they make sense. Quinn is hurt, maybe a bit embarrassed, but not because of what was said - by Hiram or by Beca - but more because of the person who said it.

Her family.

Her found family.

It's been a tender wake-up call that even people she's not related to by blood can hurt her, and Quinn can be sensitive to that after years of putting up walls around her battered heart.

Rachel takes a surreptitious look around her to make sure there are no tiny ears in the vicinity, and then says, "Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?"

Brittany giggles, always so amused whenever Rachel uses flowery language. "What you always do."

"Talk her to death?" Rachel guesses. "Make an appointment with Dr Franco?"

"Love her," Brittany says, simple as that. "It's what you've always been best at."

Rachel hums. "You're a good egg, Britt."

"I'm the best egg." She laughs. "But, okay, enough about our broody spouses, tell me about this play." Her voice gets high and excited. "Q was saying your opening night is in May. San and I are going to try to come out there with the boys to see a show."

"What? Really?"

"Uh huh," Brittany says, and Rachel can see that her attention is split between the conversation and making herself a cup of tea. She's notorious for never drinking coffee; already enough energy in her body not to need it. Rachel used to be like that, years ago and before the kids. She wouldn't touch the stuff; the same way she wouldn't touch meat.

Now look at her.

Her own gaze drops to the cup of coffee sitting on the kitchen counter in front of her. Her first of many to come for the day, she's sure. There's weekend homework to oversee, an art project she has to help Mia with, and she promised Matty that she would take him to see the ducks in the afternoon.

At Rachel's silence, Brittany looks into her phone's camera and sighs. "You're our friend too, you know," she says, and Rachel is constantly amazed that Brittany can read them all so well. "I know we've known Q longer, but her loving you has always given us the permission to, as well."

Rachel didn't even know this is what she needed to hear right now. Or ever. "Opening night can't come quickly enough," she finds herself saying, because she can't formulate any other words.

Brittany grins at her. "Tell me about the musical," she says, sounding genuinely interested. "Q mentioned a few titbits, but are you really having one of your students create a real blog?"

Rachel's shoulders relax, always finding it easier to talk about her art. "I am," she confirms. "It might be a fictional universe we're portraying, but the struggles of these characters are very real, and I don't think we can afford to ignore that they exist in the real world, as well."

Brittany is quiet for a moment, and then her smile softens. "I think we would have ended up loving you without Quinn ever being first," she says, which is yet another unexpected thing Rachel didn't know she needed to hear.