Chapter Eight

"Let me get this straight," Santana says; "you're taking Quinn - Quinn Fabray - home with you for Thanksgiving?"

Rachel barely glances up from her small suitcase as she shifts around her clothes for the upcoming trip. She contemplated packing a duffel instead, but she thinks it'll be easier to have something to drag, especially since Quinn is currently able to use only one hand.

"Berry," Santana says, sounding serious. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

At this, Rachel does look up, her eyes meeting Santana's. "I have absolutely no clue," she confesses.

"Then, why? Why?"

She sighs. "I don't think I can explain it to you," she says, leaning her hip against her suitcase and folding her arms across her chest. "She would be staying here, alone, and I don't want that."

"She wouldn't be alone," Santana argues. "Not everyone goes home for Thanksgiving, and you know that."

"Well, you and Brittany are leaving," she says. "I'm leaving, and so is Kurt."

Santana huffs. "It's not your responsibility."

"I know that," she says primly. "Quinn and I have talked about this. I'm not doing it because I feel obligated to, okay? I want to."

"But, why?"

"Because, despite what is logical and realistic, I care about her," Rachel replies, her tone soft and oddly reverent. "I care about her, a lot, and I selfishly want her to spend the holiday with me and my family."

Santana shakes her head. "Does she know?"

"Know what?"

"How you feel."

Rachel narrows her eyes. "Santana, why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?"

"I'm just checking, Berry," she says. "You're planning on taking Quinn across the state to visit your family... the least you can do is be honest with her."

"What about you?" Rachel immediately counters.

"What about me?"

"When are you going to be honest with her?"

For the first time, Santana falters.

"Oh, it's all fine and dandy when it's me who has to reveal my feelings, but you're immune," she presses. "Quinn still thinks you abandoned her because of her, you know? I don't think it would be the end of the world if you just told her the truth."

"You don't know that."

"That's right," Rachel concedes. "I might not know for sure, but it's got to be better than whatever the two of you are doing right now."

Santana shakes her head, nervously fidgeting with the untucked hem of her school shirt. "You don't know," she says. "I can't just tell her I'm gay. She would never understand."

"I don't think you're giving her enough credit, Santana," she argues. "Kurt is gay, and he's practically attached to Quinn's hip."

Santana straightens her spine. "When you're not, you mean."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Quinn has two hips, by the way. One for each of us."

Santana doesn't look amused. "You don't understand," she says. "You've never met her father."

Rachel's bout of amusement disappears in a flash, and she's wracked with an unsettling amount of apprehension. She hasn't really given much thought to... that. She's taking Quinn home, to Wallingford, to her father and... his husband.

Oh.

Santana reads Rachel's silence as agreement. "That's exactly why I can't tell her," she says. "It's just a thing, Berry. It doesn't even matter all that much about her father's politics, you know? Quinn is Catholic. People like me; people like you - we're the ones they believe are going to burn in Hell."

Rachel shakes her head, refusing to believe it, even though everything Santana is saying isn't so far off-base.

But, no.

Rachel knows Quinn. The blonde adores Kurt, and the boy is incapable of hiding his sexual orientation.

Still, Rachel can acknowledge Santana's reluctance. "I still think you should tell her," Rachel declares.

"Well, I think you should tell her too," the Latina immediately argues.

"My telling her is different to your telling her," she says.

"I'm not saying you have to tell her you like her, but you could confess that you like girls."

"So, I'm supposed to be the guinea pig here because you're too damn chicken to do it yourself?"

Santana glares at her.

"What?" Rachel says, glaring right back. She's a new person here at Dalton, wholly unafraid to stand up and use her words. "We both know I'm right. You're hiding behind how you think Quinn is going to react because you're too scared to know for sure. How is this helping anyone, Santana? The two of you aren't even friends right now, and at least one of you doesn't know the true reason why."

"You don't understand," Santana presses.

"Maybe I don't," Rachel allows; "but at least I'm willing to."

While Rachel disagrees with Santana's arguments, she does accept she probably does have to be honest with Quinn about a few things. It wouldn't be fair to lead her into a house and blindside her with the family dynamics. Quinn deserves a head's up, even if it means she might potentially change her mind about accompanying Rachel.

So, the night before they're scheduled to leave, Rachel crosses the corridor from her own room, knocks once on Quinn's door and enters to find the blonde standing at her closet.

"Hey," Quinn says, glancing over her shoulder at her visitor. "Do you think I'm going to need more than one sweater?" she asks. "How cold does it get there?"

Rachel can't help her smile, taking in Quinn's relaxed posture and soft features. "I think one should be fine," she replies, moving to sit on the edge of the blonde's bed. "You can borrow one of mine if need's be."

Quinn hums in thought, turning back to her piles of clothes. She spends a moment deciding before she pulls a garment out and sets it on her desk. "You said you live on a farm, right? Does that mean I should take my riding boots?"

Rachel just watches as Quinn floats around the room, taking items out of her closet and piling them on her desk for more scrutiny later. She's cute like this, adorable in her obvious nerves and excitement.

"Although," Quinn says after a minute; "I don't think I can put those boots on with only one hand." She pauses, visibly thinking, and Rachel can't resist reaching out to touch her. Without shocking Quinn, she links her fingers with the blonde's and tugs her closer.

"I'll help you with them," Rachel assures her. "Come sit with me for a minute. I need to talk to you about something."

Quinn brow furrows, but she moves to sit beside the brunette. "Is something wrong?" she asks. Then: "Are you - are you changing your mind?"

"What?" she squeaks. "No, Quinn, definitely not."

"Oh, okay."

Breathing a sigh, Rachel squeezes Quinn's hand, seeking and offering comfort. "Before we leave, there's something I have tell you," she says, nervously nibbling at her bottom lip.

Quinn watches the action for the longest time, just waiting, and a little bit mesmerised.

"It's - it's about my parents."

Quinn nods to indicate she's listening, even if her gaze stays trained on the other girl's lips.

"They're gay."

Quinn's eyes snap up. "What?"

Rachel rubs her thumb over the back of Quinn's hand. "My parents, Quinn. I have two fathers. And a mother, of course, but we're visiting my dads, who live just outside of Wallingford, and I just have to tell you before we leave, in case that makes you uncomfortable."

She regards her carefully. "Why would that make me uncomfortable?" she asks, oddly curious.

Rachel hums. "Umm, I don't know," she says. "You're rather religious, and Christianity doesn't exactly accept homosexuality, and I just assumed..." she trails off, reading the dubious look on Quinn's face. "You really don't have a problem with it, do you?"

Quinn shakes her head no. "In case you haven't noticed, Berry, my closest friend is gay."

Rachel thinks, So is mine, but she remains silent. She also tries not to react to the fact Quinn refers to Kurt as her 'closest friend.' What does that make Rachel?

"There's a difference with being okay with it and being okay with it, Quinn," Rachel pushes on. "You'll be in our home. It's - "

"Rachel," she says, gently cutting her off and squeezing her hand this time, forcing them both to acknowledge the contact. "What are you really worried about here? I promise I'm not going to start quoting the Bible at your family."

Rachel laughs nervously.

Quinn sighs. "I'm not my father," she finally says. "He has his views, and I have mine, though I've never truly been allowed to express them. Give me until February."

Rachel frowns. "What's happening in February?"

"I turn eighteen."

Her mouth drops open. "I'm older than you?"

Quinn arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Yes? Why do you look so distraught about that?"

"I don't even know, to be honest."

"Did you want to be younger than me?"

"I don't even know."

"You already said that."

Rachel slumps slightly, resting her chin in her free palm as her thigh supports her elbow. "You're really okay?"

"I am."

Rachel studies her face for any hint of an untruth but she sees nothing. In fact, Quinn's expression is oddly open, and Rachel can't look away even if she tries. Once she's accepted the sincerity in Quinn's expression, she straightens. "Would you really quote the Bible?"

"Just, all the best parts," she says, winking.

Rachel's breath catches, because Quinn Fabray is now winking at her. Okay. "About what?"

"About love," she immediately responds. "And how love conquers all; how it covers a multitude of our sins."

Rachel raises an eyebrow, oddly reminiscent of Quinn's patent arch, though she still needs to work on it. "And homosexuality is a sin?"

"If it is, then it has the potential to be forgiven through love."

"So, my parents aren't going to burn in Hell?"

Quinn pauses, feeling her chest tighten at the sudden vulnerability in Rachel's voice. It's obvious to her that Rachel's been told that a number of times. She can't even imagine the homophobes she's encountered. "Not for being gay," Quinn eventually says, careful and serious. Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood, she says, "Though, I don't know your parents so they could end up there for an entirely different reason. Are they Yankee fans?"

Rachel bursts out laughing after a surprised beat, automatically moving to cover her mouth.

"No," Quinn says, removing her hand. "I want to hear."

Rachel's features soften and her chest fills with warmth. "You're very special, Quinn Fabray."

She shrugs in response. Then: "Were you serious about helping me with my boots?"

"Try not to think about it."

As expected, Quinn shoots Rachel a heated glare. "Just for future reference, telling me not to think about it definitely isn't helping," she snaps.

Rachel rolls her eyes, and then refocuses. "Look at me, Quinn," she says. "Keep your eyes on me."

Somewhat reluctantly, Quinn's gaze meets hers.

"For whatever reason, you can't stand trains," Rachel says, holding Quinn's attention. "They're terrible, horrible things, right?"

Quinn frowns. "I'm not sure where you're going with this…"

Rachel ignores her. "Whatever happened to make you hate them has to have been the worst thing, right?"

Quinn manages to nod.

"It was the absolute worst?"

"You already said that," she grits out.

Again, she's ignored. "So, whatever happens when you get onto this train, right now, will never quite compare, right?"

Quinn just stares at her.

"Right?" Rachel presses.

Quinn lets out a shaky breath. "I suppose," she relents. "You're making it sound so easy."

"It is easy," she says, stepping back towards Quinn and holding out her hand. "Try not to think about it," she repeats. "Just take my hand, keep your eyes on me and take slow steps and steady breaths."

Quinn shakes her head. "I should have taken my pill earlier," she mutters. "I'd be zonked out by now."

Rachel pouts. "But then who am I supposed to talk to?"

"I can't believe you're making me do this," she grouses, reaching for the offered hand and allowing Rachel to pull her onto the train and guide her through the aisle towards their seats. She's desperately trying not to think about it, but the thoughts are creeping up on her and she's starting to panic.

"You're okay," Rachel suddenly says, squeezing her fingers. "You're okay. Remember why you got on."

"For you?"

Rachel looks over her shoulder at her. "If that's enough to keep your feet moving, then yes."

Quinn keeps her eyes on the back of Rachel's neck as they walk, her focus on the little hairs found there. She has the somewhat uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch, but she'll settle for Rachel's fingers.

When they reach their seats, Rachel guides Quinn into the window seat and immediately drops down beside her. She already brought in their luggage before she was forced into coaxing Quinn onto the train with only minutes to spare before departure. The blonde was all too happy to wait as long as possible on the platform.

Rachel watches Quinn carefully once she's settled, the blonde's eyes sliding shut and her head leaning back. Her profile is pure perfection, and Rachel can't bring herself to look away.

"You know," Quinn suddenly says; "your staring at me really isn't helping me."

Rachel flushes instantly, dropping her gaze. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm just worried. And curious."

Quinn hums.

"I know I said I wasn't going to ask, and I'm not, I promise, but it's not to do with an accident of some sort, is it?"

Quinn opens one eye to peek at the brunette. "Not in the physical sense, no."

"Oh, okay."

Quinn squeezes the fingers of the hand she's still holding as she closes her eye once more. "Will you talk to me?" she whispers.

"Excuse me?"

"Talk to me," she repeats. "It'll keep me calm."

"What do you want me to talk about?" she questions, startling when Quinn jerks at the sudden movement of the train.

"Oh, God," Quinn murmurs, shutting her eyes tighter.

"It's okay," Rachel whispers, leaning her shoulder against Quinn's and turning her head to face her. "You're okay." And, then, without thinking too much about it, she begins to sing softly, practically right into the blonde's ear, crooning the soothing words of Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwoʻole.

Somewhere over the rainbow,
way up high
And the dreams that you dream of,
once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow,
blue birds fly
And the dreams that you dream of,
dreams really do come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star
Wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where trouble melts like lemon drops,
High above the chimney top,
That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow,
bluebirds fly
And the dream that you dare to
Why, oh why can't I?

Rachel is startled by the conductor's approach, and she quickly digs in her backpack for their tickets to have them ready. It's difficult to do with one hand, but she's not releasing Quinn's for anything. As long as she's okay with the contact, Rachel isn't going to waste any opportunity.

She continues humming softly until the conductor comes and goes, and then she resumes her singing, leaning in that bit closer, as if she wants to press her lips against the shell of Quinn's ear.

Well, I see trees of green, red roses too
I'll watch them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself,
what a wonderful world

Well, I see skies of blue and I see clouds of white
The brightness of day, I like the dark
And I think to myself,
what a wonderful world

The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky
And also on the faces of people passing by
I see friends shakin' hands, sayin' 'How do you do?'
They're really saying I, I love you

I hear babies cry and I watch them grow
They'll learn much more then we'll know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
World

Someday I'll wish upon a star
Wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where trouble melts like lemon drops,
High above the chimney top,
That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow,
bluebirds fly
And the dream that you dare to
Why, oh why can't I?

When she finishes, there's the deepest, most profound silence before Quinn opens her eyes and turns those deep hazels on her.

"You are wonderful," Quinn whispers.

"Because I can sing?"

"Among other things, yes."

And, of course, Rachel blushes. "Are you feeling a bit better?"

She nods. "Keep talking, though."

"About what?"

"Tell me about your family," she offers. "Who am I going to be meeting?"

Rachel relaxes slightly, smiling at the mere thought of her family. "Well, on LeRoy's property, there are at least seven generations of the Holt family," she explains.

"Seriously?"

"Some of them are in the family cemetery, of course," she clarifies with a cheeky grin. "They've lived there for a long time, and the property size doubled - or tripled - when he married my dad."

Quinn nods, following that much. Rachel tried to explain the vineyard and the berry farm to her, and Quinn even did her own research to make sure she would be able to maintain conversation if it was needed.

"LeRoy's parents live in a cottage behind the main house, which is great. I love having them around because my dad's parents weren't really all that accepting of his, umm, change of lifestyle, and my mother's family is, well, from Oregon, so I never really see them because she doesn't see them all that often." She tilts her head to the side. "I like to escape to their cottage sometimes. Growing up, the house was always so full of boys, and my Nan is just so warm, you know?"

No, Quinn doesn't know. Her entire family is cold and calculating and, on those odd occasions that Quinn actually sees any of her extended family, it's always at a formal function where she's supposed to act a certain way.

"Also, Grandpa Holt tells the most amazing stories, really," she gushes. "I have a feeling he's going to love you."

"Why?"

"You're a very good listener."

She shrugs, effectively ignoring the comment. "I think it's great you're close to your grandparents," she says. "I rarely see mine."

"Are all of them still around?"

"My mother's parents are both still alive, and my father's father," she explains. "I haven't seen them since last year's New Year's party at the house."

Rachel's thumb strokes the back of Quinn's hand, which is one of her favourite things to do. Just being able to feel her soft skin is everything. "I think I take it for granted, sometimes," she says thoughtfully. "They're getting old, and I get scared that I'll go back to Dalton and just never see them again."

Quinn gently nudges her with her shoulder in a sign of comfort, and Rachel offers her a grateful smile.

"LeRoy and my dad work really hard maintaining the estate," Rachel continues. "It's one of the biggest vineyards in the state, after they combined the properties, so it's a pretty large operation. I think my dad was expecting an easy, simple life when he left the corporate world, but he was so wrong. Sometimes, the stress is a little too much, and I get worried about him. He tends to overwork himself, and he definitely doesn't look after himself properly."

Quinn mutters, "Men," in amusement, and Rachel giggles. Then: "Do they know who I am?" she asks.

"Uh, yes," Rachel says, frowning. "I told them who - "

"No," she interrupts gently. "I mean, do they know I'm a Fabray?"

"Oh."

Quinn tenses. "They don't, do they?"

"It's not going to matter," Rachel assures her. "I know you're nothing like your father, Quinn. I mean, you have far less body hair." When Quinn doesn't react to her attempt at humour, Rachel sighs. "Look, my parents are really forgiving, non-judgmental, friendly people. My entire family is that way, actually; it can be a little annoying at times. All I'm saying is that it doesn't matter what your surname is, okay? It matters who you are."

"And, who am I, Rachel?"

She hums in thought. "Do you know what I thought of you the first time I saw you?"

Quinn shakes her head.

"It was the day I came for my interview and entrance exam," she explains. "I picked a school as reasonably far away from home my parents would allow, and I asked my mother to accompany me. We were waiting outside the main reception for one of the teachers administering the test to collect me to take me to the venue, and I remember seeing you duck into the reception with a bouquet of flowers."

Quinn instantly flushes at the memory. "I didn't even see you," she says.

"I know," she dismisses kindly. "But, I watched as you handed the flowers to one of the women behind the front desk."

"Denise."

"And she burst into tears."

"It was her birthday."

"And your smile," Rachel says. "It was both happy and sad at the same time, and I couldn't quite figure out how that could be."

Quinn presses her lips together.

"You know, I wasn't all that sold on the idea of going to Dalton until then," she confesses. "There's another school in Windham County that I was considering, but then I saw you and I - " she stops suddenly, blushing. "The students were kind and polite, and they seemed happy and sad, and I just knew it was the place I had to be."

Quinn raises her eyebrows in amusement. "So, what you're really saying is you picked Dalton for me?" she teases, and Rachel playfully swats her arm with a grin on her face.

Rachel clears her throat. "I have three older brothers, all from LeRoy," she says. "Daniel is the oldest, and he's married to Emily-Anne. They work with my parents on the estate but live in Wallingford. They've actually just welcomed a baby girl."

"You're an aunt?"

"I am," she says proudly. "Lena was born on the second. Do you want to see pictures?"

"Wow, that's just weeks ago," she says. "Oh, of course; I'm a sucker for cute things."

Rachel regards her for a moment. "I'll remember that," she murmurs as she reaches for her phone and immediately finds the endless number of pictures her family have sent her since the baby's birth. She holds the phone out for Quinn because she's not willingly releasing her uninjured arm.

"She's tiny," Rachel gushes. "And just so - "

"Beautiful," Quinn finishes, her eyes shining as she takes in the baby's tiny, pink face peeking out of a pink bundle. "She's absolutely precious, Rachel."

"I honestly cannot wait to meet her," she says. "I think I'm more excited about that than seeing my entire family combined."

"They must love that."

Rachel shrugs unapologetically as she scrolls through the rest of the pictures for Quinn to see. It's one thing for the blonde to see the adorable baby on the screen, but she rather enjoys seeing Rachel's reaction far better. There's such a soft, content look in her eyes, this perfect baby bringing joy to an entire family, even if it's just through the phone.

Eventually, Rachel puts away her phone and angles her body to face Quinn, tucking one leg under her body. "After Daniel, there's Levi, who's in his second year of Law School at Northwestern. As far as I know, he's bringing his girlfriend, Kelsey, whom he's been dating since I was in diapers, I swear."

Quinn chuckles. "So, since last year?"

Rachel exaggerates a gasp. "Rude."

"I'm kidding," she says. "Is she also in Law School?"

"She's actually an Art Major, and she works in a gallery in Chicago."

"Art, huh?"

Rachel studies her face. "Maybe you can show her some of your drawings," she offers.

Quinn ducks her head to hide her blush. "Maybe," she murmurs noncommittally.

"Next, there's Eric, who was the baby before I came along," she says, her voice taking on a tone that Quinn doesn't quite recognise. It's almost a mixture of irritation and affection. "He's a junior in college, studying Psychology, and he's continually bitching about how hard it is."

Yip. Definitely irritation.

"Do you talk to them often?" Quinn asks. "Your brothers, I mean."

"I talk to Daniel the most," she confesses. "Levi is good about checking in from time to time, and Eric takes years to reply to messages, so I barely bother with him, sometimes."

Quinn almost laughs at the obvious distaste she has for her youngest older brother's behaviour.

"I miss them, obviously, so I'm keen to be home, even if it's for only a few days," she concludes. "I'm also rather excited to introduce them to you."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Because you're important to me."

"We still know nothing about each other."

Rachel leans closer, her eyes catching Quinn's. "I think I know enough to like what I see."

"And, what do you see?"

With her free hand, Rachel reaches to palm Quinn's cheek, turning her head to face her properly. "I think you are tragically beautiful, Quinn Fabray," she whispers. "Sometimes, it even hurts to look at you."

"I don't know if you're insulting or complimenting me."

Rachel ignores her. "I've seen and experienced things that are... awful. I know what it's like to feel empty and dirty and lost and confused and powerless, but there's something about you... whether it's in your eyes or your grace. It - it makes everyone around you feel safe and powerful. It's one of the reasons you're such a brilliant leader."

Quinn isn't sure what to say to that, so she just shifts slightly and rests her head on Rachel's shoulder. She sighs in content, her eyes slipping closed again. From her position, she can smell Rachel: a heady mixture of strawberries, almonds and something distinctly Rachel.

"I was seven years old the last time I rode a train without completely freaking out," Quinn says after the longest silence. She keeps her eyes closed as she speaks, her tone conversational. "I was always kind of scared of them, but I could handle them if I was distracted enough. I was with my parents and my nanny, Mary. It was before all the politics took over, and we were travelling for the campaign. I think they thought travelling by train would make my father look more like 'a man of the people.'" She chuckles humourlessly. "My parents were fine, you know? They were always somewhat distant and not at all affectionate, but they were fine. And then, well, I learned something very important on that trip that I've never been able to forget."

Rachel wants to ask for more, but even she knows not to.

They sit in silence, Quinn drifting in and out of sleep, until lunch time rolls around. Quinn refuses to move from her seat, so Rachel ventures to the food car by herself, unable to decide if the fact that Quinn bends over in her seat and tucks her head between her knees is amusing or just incredibly heartbreaking.

A bit of both, maybe.

Rachel doesn't dawdle, hurrying with her purchases, and then returning to Quinn's side. She sets their food on the table in front of them and lays a gentle hand on Quinn's back, feeling the girl's muscles move under her fingertips.

"I got you a chicken salad," Rachel tells her as Quinn sits up, looking particularly traumatised. "And some Skittles," she offers with a sheepish smile.

"How do you know I like Skittles?"

"Lucky guess."

Quinn eyes her curiously, but doesn't comment. "Thank you," she says instead, dragging her salad across the table and immediately tucking in. She's not really hungry, but she definitely isn't in the mood for the Spanish Inquisition if she doesn't at least attempt to eat.

"Tell me about your friends," Quinn says after a while, catching Rachel just as she's biting into her tomato and lettuce panini. "Will I be meeting any of them?"

Rachel removes the sandwich from her mouth, looking thoughtful. "I don't know if you will meet them," she confesses. "It's such a short time, so I imagine it'll just be a family-filled weekend." She sets her sandwich down and leans back. "I didn't really keep many friends after..." she trails off, knowing that Quinn understands.

"I'm sorry," Quinn immediately says, though it feels empty.

Rachel offers her a warm smile. "My best friend's name is Tina," she says. "You'll probably meet her, I'm sure. She tends to show up whenever she wants because she claims her own life and family are boring, and she enjoys living vicariously through me." She rolls her eyes at the thought of her friend. "There's also Noah. He's a little older than me, but we've known each other a long time. He's highly inappropriate and a terrible influence if you take him too seriously, but he's a real sweetheart."

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Ex-boyfriend?"

Rachel laughs out loud. "Oh, God, no," she says. "He's like my crude older brother. Seriously. Ew."

Quinn giggles. "The lady doth protest too much."

"Oh, shut up," she says. Then: "I won't lie and say we haven't... kissed, because we did, but it just felt wrong. Like incest."

"That's gross, Rachel," Quinn says. "I'm eating here."

Rachel flicks her bicep with her finger. She's enjoying this side of Quinn, a girl who looks slightly more at ease the further away from school they get.

Quinn pierces a wedge of tomato with her fork and holds it out for Rachel, who just eyes it curiously. "What? You know I like Skittles but not that I hate raw tomatoes?"

Rachel hesitates only a beat before she leans forward and eats the tomato wedge right off Quinn's plastic fork, her eyes locked on hazel the entire time. It's a charged moment that gets interrupted by the sound of Rachel's phone buzzing on the table. They both startle, blushes immediately settling over their features.

Rachel looks at her phone, and then laughs. "It's Daniel," she tells Quinn. "He's going to pick us up at the train station, and he claims he's leaving now and going to drive two miles an hour to make sure he's there on time."

Quinn laughs lightly. "He sounds like a hoot."

"Oh, you better not tell him that," she says; "it'll go straight to his head."

"My lips are sealed."

When Quinn actually gives in to slumber after she's picked at her salad, Rachel uses the opportunity to call her mother. It's a quick one, just letting her know they're safely on the train and on their way.

Shelby has had quite a bit to say about Rachel's decision to go visit her father instead of going to New York, but Rachel doesn't feel too bad about it because she spent nearly the entire summer in the City of Lights.

She'll see Shelby in December.

And, really, it's much safer to introduce Quinn to anyone but Shelby. Even if they are just friends - and that's probably all they'll ever be - Quinn is important to her, and she wouldn't want Shelby and her ways to push Quinn away, for whatever reason. It's practically an art form of Shelby Corcoran.

One that, thankfully, Rachel has failed to inherit.

Even if she managed to inherit everything else.

Rachel is forced to wake Quinn when they near their final destination. There's one more stop before they're in Wallingford, and there's something Rachel needs to discuss with her before they arrive.

Of course, a half-asleep Quinn Fabray has to be the cutest thing she's ever seen, and she loses her train of thought far too quickly, stumbling over her words as Quinn questions her on the time.

"Almost four-thirty," she manages to say.

Quinn stretches as best she can, making a mewling sound that makes Rachel want to reach out and touch.

Gosh, how is she supposed to survive days of this?

Quinn's eyes are a little red and the sleepiness won't completely leave her, which is because of the anxiety medication she admitted to taking before she does any travelling.

"How did you sleep?" Rachel asks.

Quinn shrugs, yawning for good measure. "Sorry I was out for so long."

"That's okay," she assures her. "Your snoring was oddly soothing."

She laughs lightly, waking that bit more. "We're almost there?"

"We are," she says with a nod. Then: "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course." She turns slightly, visibly giving Rachel her full attention, even if her eyes are still slightly unfocused.

"Earlier, you asked me about my friends," Rachel says, her eyes on Quinn's face. "I told you I lost quite a few people after everything that happened."

Quinn nods to indicate she's listening.

"I don't really like to talk about it," she says, her voice low. "I was in therapy right through it all, and it's something I've tried desperately to put behind me. They know who I am in Wallingford, which is why I decided to move schools. I get looks sometimes, and people pass comments about me and my family. It's something you can learn to ignore or brush off, but it still happens."

Quinn places her hand of Rachel's knee, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry you've had to go through any of this, Rachel. Every time I think about it; I just - " she stops, unsure what she even wants to say.

"I wanted to keep Dalton separate from this life, but Adams just went and ruined that for me."

"He's a fucking asshole."

"That, he is," she agrees quietly. "I fought with my dad about it, and I hate that he thinks I'm ashamed."

Quinn picks up something in her tone of voice. "Are you?"

"Sometimes," she confesses, furrowing her brow. "It's just been really hard, you know? There's already so much I have to defend on a daily basis, and it can be so exhausting. I selfishly just wanted to be 'just Rachel' and that's all. I didn't want some moniker attached to my name based on who my parents choose to love or on who decided violence is the only way to cure me."

Quinn swallows audibly, knowing that Rachel is telling her something without actually telling her. "I know it doesn't mean much, and I definitely don't say it nearly enough, but I really do think you're pretty great. I wouldn't change a thing about you."

This time, Rachel does reach out to touch, her fingers brushing against the back of Quinn's neck. "That's where you're wrong, Quinn. It means more than you think."

"Dad, I'd like you to meet Quinn Fabray," Rachel says as the three of them stand in the entrance hall. "Quinn, this is my dad, Hiram Berry."

If Quinn were to draw a picture of what she thought Rachel's father looked like, she's convinced she would have come close to someone like Hiram. Maybe just a little leaner. It's easy to see Rachel in the man, and the beaming smile he offers her is completely infectious.

Quinn puts out her right hand the way she's been brought up to do, and says, "You have a lovely home, Sir."

Hiram just chuckles heartily before tugging Quinn into a hug, blatantly ignoring her formality. "She's so polite," he says over her shoulder to Rachel. "Where did you find her?"

"Dad," Rachel whines with a roll of her eyes.

Hiram is still smiling when he releases Quinn. "Come in, come in," she says. "Let me introduce you to the family."

Quinn casts a worried look at Rachel, but the brunette just waves her off, essentially leaving her to the wolves. Steeling herself, Quinn follows Hiram further into the house towards the kitchen. where they find LeRoy pulling roasted chicken from the oven. It looks and smells divine, which is the first thing she says to the towering man.

"I always love a fan," LeRoy says, washing his hands at the sink. He wipes them on a dish towel before gently shaking Quinn's hand. "We're huggers in this family," he says; "but I imagine you've been overwhelmed enough."

Quinn's smile is sheepish, but she definitely appreciates the consideration.

"How is the healing coming along?"

She looks thrown momentarily, frowning slightly.

"Physician," he says, shrugging as he points a thumb at himself. "We were worried to hear about your injuries."

Quinn swallows audibly, feeling uncomfortable with their obvious concern. Her own parents barely mentioned the incident beyond do we need to send you to a specialist? "I feel fine," she says. "I was sleeping on my left side to keep the ribs stable, but the pain is pretty much gone by now." She gestures to her plastered arm. "It's mainly this monstrosity to deal with."

"Rachel tells us you're a striker for the girls' soccer team," he says, leaning against the island. "Do you know when you'll be able to get back to training?"

"Uh, probably not before Winter Break," she answers, making a mental note to question Rachel about just how much she's told the family about her.

Before LeRoy can comment, Hiram returns to the kitchen with three people in tow, and Quinn is introduced to Levi, Kelsey and Eric, who are kind and friendly. Kelsey even calls dibs on signing Quinn's cast whenever she gets a chance.

Next, she meets LeRoy's parents, who encourage her to call them Grandma and Grandpa, though Quinn suspects she won't actually call them anything at all. She starts to feel slightly uncomfortable with all the attention in the kitchen and, as soon as Hiram notices, he gets them moving again, touring the downstairs until they get to the living room to find Rachel, Emily-Anne, Daniel and baby Lena.

Rachel manages to drag her eyes away from the bundle in her arms to give Quinn a beaming smile. "Come sit with me," she says, using her head to gesture to the spot on the couch beside her.

Barely wasting a second, Quinn crosses the room and gently sits beside her, careful not to jostle the baby. She leans in rather close, her body pressing against Rachel's as she peers at the baby's little face and wide, brown eyes.

"The pictures don't do her justice," Quinn murmurs absentmindedly.

"That's what I said," Rachel says, looking at Quinn again, and surprised to find her sitting so close. "Oh, uh, this is my sister-in-law, Emily," she says, clearing her throat. "Em, this is Quinn."

Quinn looks across Rachel at the only other blonde in the house. "Hello," she says, keeping her hand firmly at her side. "It's really nice to meet you, and congratulations on this little human being over here."

"Thank you," Emily-Anne answers, and then looks at Rachel. "She's so polite," she says, echoing Hiram's sentiment. "Do you think she can teach your brothers a thing or two?"

Rachel's gaze falls on Quinn's face, whose attention is focused on the baby. Whatever she wants to say gets stuck in her throat when Quinn shifts closer and reaches out to caress Lena's cheek with the back of her forefinger.

"So soft," she whispers in awe.

Emily-Anne pipes up. "Do you want to hold her?"

Quinn's eyes snap up. "I don't know how safe that'll be with my cast," she says, looking put out.

"We can prop her up with a pillow in your lap," the new mother suggests. "As long as you stay seated, I think we're okay."

Quinn barely has time to offer any protests - not that she was going to - before Rachel and Emily-Anne are setting her up with a pillow and Lena, who feels as if she barely weighs anything. Quinn leans forward and marvels at the tiny features in front of her.

"Hello," Quinn whispers to the baby, only vaguely aware of Rachel taking out her phone to snap a few pictures. "You are honestly the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. It's not even fair. Like, have you seen your nose? It's such a pretty nose. And those pouty lips. You're going to be a little heartbreaker, aren't you?"

Quinn's face spreads into a smile, and Rachel takes the perfect picture - that's definitely going to be her new wallpaper; she doesn't even care who sees it.

Quinn ignores it all, her eyes on the baby. "You have absolutely no idea how much you're already loved," she murmurs. "You are so loved, baby Lena."

Rachel puts away her phone and leans into Quinn, just wanting to touch. "You really are," Rachel echoes Quinn's words before her eyes settle on the unsuspecting blonde. "You truly are so very loved."

"Hey."

Quinn spins quickly, almost knocking over her toiletries. "Hi," she breathes, smiling at Rachel as the brunette enters the room. "Is it time?"

She nods. "I was sent to get you," she says. "Are you feeling better after your shower?"

"Much, thank you," she says. "It was nice to get out of the uniform."

Rachel hums thoughtfully, eyeing Quinn carefully. She's dressed in a pair of skinny jeans, a dark green fitted blouse and startlingly white Supergas. She looks relaxed, her hair loose and her face fresh. Now, Rachel has seen Quinn in clothes that aren't part of their school uniform, but it's never felt like this.

"You look nice, by the way," Quinn says, interrupting Rachel's thoughts.

She instantly blushes, looking down at her loose, blue, knee-length dress and bare feet. "Thank you," she says bashfully. "You clean up quite nicely, as well."

Quinn tucks a lock of hair behind her hair. "Are you sure your brother doesn't mind I've taken over his room?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Daniel doesn't even really live here anymore," she says. "He'll survive, I promise. He's just turning on the dramatics because it's obvious Lena likes you better than she likes him, which is completely understandable."

Quinn latches on to that, unable to let it slide. "And, why do you say that?"

Rachel sputters. "Is this your fishing for a compliment?"

"This is my being genuinely curious," she offers.

"Then, it's probably because you smell much nicer than he does," she says. "I swear, it's as if the scent of apples and cinnamon just follows you everywhere. It's heady and intoxicating."

Quinn raises her eyebrows, surprised.

"And I just said entirely too much."

Quinn steps towards her. "You think I smell like apples and cinnamon?"

"Don't you?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you do," she says. "You really do."

Quinn tilts her head to the side, just waiting, enjoying Rachel's discomfort.

Rachel shakes her head. "Why are you like this?"

Quinn's face splits into a grin, and it's the first of many to steal Rachel's breath. "I'm glad I'm here, you know? Your family is awesome, and they've been really nice and accommodating. Thank you for inviting me, truly. I - I appreciate it."

Rachel regards her carefully. "But...?"

"Why did you really invite me to come with you?" she asks carefully.

Rachel swallows audibly. Well, she can't exactly tell Quinn the truth, now can she? Can she? Well, maybe she can get away with some of it. "I worry about you," she says, suddenly sounding serious, which definitely wasn't her initial intention. "I worry about you all the time, Quinn, and I just couldn't stand the idea of you being alone over Thanksgiving."

Quinn breathes in slowly. "I wouldn't have been alone," she says on the exhale.

"Let me rephrase," she says. "I couldn't stand the idea of you not being with me for Thanksgiving."

"Oh."

Rachel nods slowly. "I wanted you here and I wanted you with me," she continues to explain. "After Sam and after everything at the dance, I just - I want you with me, Quinn."

She blinks. "Do you think I would do something?"

Rachel licks her lips. "I don't know," she confesses. "How does anyone ever really know?"

Quinn's lack of response does very little to alleviate either of their worries, but Rachel reaches out anyway, her fingers linking with Quinn's.

"Let's go," she says. "They're probably rioting waiting to eat."

"Can't have that."

"No, we definitely can't."