Chapter Nineteen

Quinn can't reliably remember the last time she had a proper family Christmas. She spent the last one with Santana and her family, but the Lopez clan has its own issues that they let get in the way of the holiday. It's never really something she remembers Santana actually talking about, but Quinn knows how it feels to live in the shadows of an older sibling.

Santana has two: a sister and brother. Who are both successful in their own rights, and it's an invisible pressure her family unknowingly places on the Latina's shoulders.

Quinn had Mary, and then Tori, and she hasn't allowed herself to get to know Martha well enough to consider her anything special.

Right now, though, Quinn isn't even thinking about any of that. Right now, she has baby Lena nestled in her arms and Rachel pressed against her side, and nothing else in the world even matters.

Rachel is chattering away to Robert about something or the other, but Quinn isn't listening. She's too content to pay attention.

Her stomach is full, and so is her heart.

She looks down when Lena shifts, and her smile is automatic. Babies make everything better, right? Aren't they supposed to?

Well, her arrival in her family was supposed to solve all their problems, but she just seemed to make it worse.

Even back then, she couldn't get anything right.

"Hey."

Quinn looks up, catching Rachel's chestnut gaze. "Hmm?"

"Where'd you go?"

She smiles softly. "I'm right here."

Rachel gives her a look that says she doesn't believe her, but she drops it. "I'm so stuffed," she says instead.

"I told you not to eat that third garlic roll."

Rachel huffs. "But it was so good," she argues. "I don't regret it."

"You will."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Quinn raises her eyebrows at the tone of the question. "Uh, I'm pretty sure you're going to feel bloated at some point," she says. "What's up with that reaction?"

Rachel presses her lips together. "Oh. Nothing."

"Rach?"

Rachel looks away from Quinn's intense gaze, her eyes dropping to Lena's tiny face. "Do you think I'm fat?"

Quinn actually sputters, she's so surprised by the question. "What?" she almost shrieks.

Lena squirms in her arms.

Quinn grows still. "Sorry, baby Lena," she murmurs, instantly apologetic. "Your aunt just asked me a preposterous question, and I reacted poorly. Forgive me?"

Lena just looks up at her with wide, brown eyes, and Quinn is powerless. Oh so powerless.

Quinn looks at Rachel. "You are beautiful, Rachel," she whispers.

"Are you saying being fat and being beautiful are mutually exclusive, because that's a horrible thing to imply, Quinn?"

Quinn's eyebrows shoot up. Okay. This isn't going to be one of those simple body complexes to tackle.

Granted, she's probably the absolute worst person to be talking about body image. She would much rather starve herself than gain a single pound, and have her mother notice.

God.

She's going to see her mother in a few days.

Quinn's anxiety piques, and she has to force her breathing to steady. "Rachel," she says, slightly amused. "We are seriously so fucking messed up."

And, Rachel laughs.

Quinn's comment is so unexpected that Rachel has no choice but to tilt her head back and let out a full-body laugh that makes her entire form shake. "Don't swear in front of my niece," she eventually says.

Quinn smiles softly. "My apologies, Princess Lena, for my crass remark." She snuggles the baby, nuzzling her tiny stomach until she gets a delighted little giggle.

Rachel can't actually get over how it feels to witness Quinn interact with Lena. The way her eyes shine and her entire face lights up. The way her voice softens and her smile widens. God, she's so beautiful like this.

"Quinn?"

She looks at Rachel, eyes bright. "Hmm?"

"Did I tell you that Lena is my goddaughter?"

Quinn shakes her head. "No, you didn't mention it," she says. "That's pretty cool. Is she going to be Christened, or is it something unofficial? Or did it already happen when you weren't here?"

Rachel blinks. "So many questions, Sherlock," she mumbles with a slow smile. "Umm, she was Christened while I was at school. I'm one of two godmothers. Emily-Anne's best friend from her hometown in North Carolina is her other one."

"Oh, so you're the spare," she teases lightly, her eyes dancing with mirth.

Rachel is entirely too charmed to act indignant, and she can barely look away from Quinn's smiling face. It's right there, and she wants nothing more than to kiss every inch of it. "Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you." She barely says the words, but Quinn reads her lips, and the heart-stopping smile she receives in response is well worth the risk of 'saying' those words in a room full of people.

Quinn leans in slightly. "You just want to open your present first, don't you?"

"Well, I'm not going to deny that obvious truth," she says with a slight shrug.

Quinn grins mischievously. "You should know that the present currently waiting for you under the tree isn't you real present."

"It's not?"

"Your relationship present isn't for public eyes."

Rachel's eyes widen but, before she can respond, Hiram claps his hands excitedly. "Presents!" he declares, and there's a collective cheer, even as Quinn goes to cover Lena's tiny ears from the noise. Rachel pretty much swoons at the action, and then completely pales at the thought that she can't wait to have children with Quinn.

Thankfully, her brief moment of panic goes largely unnoticed as the entire Holt-Berry clan gathers in the living room where the Christmas tree is. Quinn places Lena in Rachel's arms, and then rises to her feet with all the grace of a gazelle.

"I'll be right back," she whispers, and then practically hops over Levi's legs to get out of the room. Rachel shifts to the end of the couch to make space for her grandparents to squeeze onto the couch.

This family really, truly, is large.

Everyone has just about settled when Quinn gets back, carrying a medium-sized pouch with her. Rachel raises her eyebrows in question as Quinn sits on the armrest closest to her, a gentle hand on her back.

"You'll see," she says.

There are far too many presents to hand out, really, and it takes Declan and Julian burning through all their residual excitement from their post-dessert sugar rush to get it done in seven minutes. Rachel ends up with a rather large pile of presents in front of her, and Quinn's eyes grow misty at the little pile in her lap.

Rachel rubs a slowly circle on Quinn's knee with her palm, and Quinn looks at her. "You're family now, you know?"

Quinn can't bring herself to speak, so she gives up trying pretty quickly.

"Everyone ready?" LeRoy asks the room.

"Uh," Quinn says, awkwardly raising her hand like she's in a classroom at school. She visibly blushes when all eyes turn towards her, and it takes her a moment to gather herself. "Before we get started, I was wondering if I could hand my presents out," she says. "I didn't get to put them under the tree because, umm, I finished them only yesterday." She looks around the room. "I also didn't realise how many people there would be," she confesses with a soft chuckle as she gets to her feet and starts removing rolled up pieces of paper from her bag.

Rachel just watches in silence as Quinn carefully hands out the rolls, each one carefully addressed to every recipient in the room. The last person to receive one is Rachel, right after Quinn hands Lena's to Emily-Anne. Then she resumes her seat and smiles adorably.

"I suppose you could open them first," she says. "They're probably, definitely, not as exciting as whatever else you have waiting for you."

Before anyone can say anything, Declan is unrolling his gift. "Cool!" he squeals. "Look, Mommy, it's Spider-Man!" He practically shoves the drawing of his favourite superhero in his mother's face, and Stacey has just enough time to dodge the potential assault.

"Wow," Stacey says; "It looks just like him."

"I got Iron Man," Julian shouts, and it becomes increasingly evident to all of them that Quinn has penned each of them ink drawings of things that are either their favourite or very important to them.

It turns into a collective gush-fest that goes on for close to five minutes as the entire room passes around their respective drawings. Rachel's favourite has to be the drawing of Emily-Anne's pinkie finger clasped in Lena's tiny fist that Quinn gives to Daniel.

Stacey almost starts crying at the image of Julian and Declan chasing each other around the backyard. Levi's one depicts the most intricate library Rachel has ever seen, the very details in the books on the bookshelves startling. Hiram's is a scaled representation of the inside of the barn, with him standing with his fists on his hips as he oversees.

They're all really perfect.

And, well, Rachel's heart stutters when she sees her own. It's a picture of herself, performing on stage. It's practically a blue ink still of her solo from Sectionals, and she wonders if that is actually what she looked like.

Quinn gets to her feet at some point, leaves the room and returns with a large rectangular-shaped item draped in a towel. All eyes turn to her again. "This one is kind of for the whole family," she explains, blushing fiercely. "Daniel helped by getting it framed." She carries it over to where Grandpa and Grandma Holt are sitting, setting it in front of them, and then returning to her seat.

Rachel doesn't even realise she's holding her breath until she sees her grandmother drop the towel to reveal the absolute masterpiece within the wooden frame.

It's pencil this time, and it's a drawing of the entire family. Rachel recognises the picture as the one they struggled to take at Thanksgiving, and she feels tears prick at her eyes.

"It's beautiful," someone says.

Rachel feels Quinn's hand on her back, and she looks up at shining hazel eyes. "It's beautiful," she reiterates the earlier words.

Quinn just smiles at her. "Merry Christmas, Rachel Berry."

It's almost midnight when Rachel and Quinn find themselves sitting cross-legged opposite each other on Rachel's bed. The brunette can see Quinn's obvious exhaustion - she's unfairly adorable when she gets sleepy - but Rachel knows they need to discuss this now, and Quinn doesn't seem to be putting up a fight.

They've already exchanged presents. Quinn gave Rachel a Dalton soccer jersey with her name and number on it, essentially claiming the brunette as hers. It's her version of a Letterman. Rachel gave Quinn a set of fabric-covered Moleskine notebooks that she practically gushed over.

Now, though, they have a very important conversation to have.

"Firstly," Rachel starts; "you don't get to say things like that to me." Her voice is steady, but her heart is thundering in her chest, just from the memory of the… fight that started this all. "I know you, so I can recognise when you go on the attack," she says. "I get that it's part of who you are, Quinn, and I would rather you direct your attack at me than at anyone else, or even yourself, but there are things you do not get to use as ammunition, okay?

"Everything else is fair game. Talk about my overly large nose or my annoying personality, but you do not get to talk about my assault that way. Do we understand each other?"

Quinn can barely look at her, but she nods, feeling like the worst person in the world. She remembers only bits and pieces from the previous night, but she recalls enough to know she said some truly awful things. If the regret she felt when she woke up after passing out is anything to go on, she royally fucked up.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles.

Rachel just reaches for her hands and gives them a gentle squeeze. "Now that we've covered that, I think we should unpack the entire day from the very beginning."

Quinn just nods again.

"Let's start with Declan," Rachel says, and she sees Quinn stiffen. "Did what he asked scare you?"

Quinn breathes out slowly. "Yes," she admits.

"And that's what prompted you to - " she stops when Quinn meets her gaze.

"I did get scared," Quinn says. "But he's just a boy, and he's going to ask questions and make assumptions. I know that. I planned to talk to you about Jackson Prescott before Declan even asked about our relationship."

Rachel can concede that much. "But you still lashed out," she points out.

Quinn releases her hands and runs her fingers through her hair. "After you assumed I believed him," she says through a clenched jaw.

"Because you hesitated," Rachel counters.

"I did," Quinn allows. "Because the mere idea that you thought I believed him caught me so off guard," she says. "And then, when I tried to explain, you wouldn't listen."

Rachel is about to argue when Quinn's pointed look forces her to replay the conversation. She breathes out slowly. "Okay," she relents, her shoulders slumping.

Quinn sits forward slightly. "That first part is… debatable," she says. "But the next part is my fault." She looks away. "You just - you mentioned fear, and you implied that I didn't know anything about it, and I guess I just saw red."

Rachel swallows. "I don't want us to be the sort of couple that compares things like this," she whispers. "I don't want us to be those people at all. I know we both have many, many things to work through, and I never meant to imply anything of the sort. I hope you know that."

"I do," Quinn says, sighing. "I mean, it isn't as if you even knew anything." Her breathing grows slightly unsteady. "I don't talk about… it."

Rachel just waits in silence.

"Santana kind of knows," she confesses. "There are times when I can't quite hide the fear, and I sometimes just react to things." She sighs. "It's funny, you know? I hate being around my father because things are so… volatile all the time, but I get so heartbroken when they don't even want to be in the same state as me. Is that normal?"

Rachel isn't sure how to answer that. "Maybe you should talk to my dad about it," she says instead. "The coming out never did go so well, and I think he has more experience with missing a family that - " she stops.

"Hates him? Wants nothing to do with him? Sees him as scum of the Earth? Would like nothing more than to pretend he doesn't exist?"

Rachel closes her eyes, feeling a wave of… something awful. If Quinn feels that now, then Rachel can only imagine how much worse it'll be if her family learns about her sexuality.

The mere thought of it is painful and entirely too heartbreaking for Rachel to wrap her head around, so she just wraps her arms around Quinn, unsurprised to find her girlfriend trembling.

"I always wonder if my father would have liked nothing more than to kill me that summer," Quinn mumbles into Rachel's pyjama top. "As far as the world knows, my sister never existed. It's like they wanted to erase her from existence, and he probably wished they could do the same with me.

"Maybe he would earn the sympathy vote or something. I don't know. It just - whenever I think about it, I remember wishing, at some point, that he really would." She sucks in a sharp breath. "Sometimes, I still do."

And, yes, okay, Rachel definitely isn't prepared for all of this. She has her own appointment with Dr Howell scheduled for when she gets to New York, and she reasons she's probably going to need to get advice on how to help her girlfriend, who's proving to be more and more broken every day.

God, Quinn pretends so well.

Rachel doesn't think her love will be enough to overcome… all of this. But, it's all she has right now, and she's going to give it willingly. So, she just hugs Quinn tighter, and whispers how much she loves her into soft blonde hair.

It should be enough, but they both know better.

Eventually, Quinn pulls back slightly and looks away. She sucks in a shuddering breath, as if she's trying to steel herself for something.

And then she starts speaking.

"I hate that I'm so afraid of him," she says, nibbling at her bottom lip and frowning as if she's actually angry with herself. "I think, maybe, my seven-year-old mind exaggerated everything or something, but it felt like every day of that summer was his way of proving to himself that - " she hesitates. "That I wasn't Frannie, and I never would be. Like, if he could hurt me, then there was no way I could be her, or something.

"There was one night. I can't really remember when it was, because it kind of all just blurred into one long…" she trails off. "Anyway, I think it was the night that changed the course of time or whatever you want to call it. He was especially mad that night. I think the polls weren't going so well, and it was just easier to blame me, because why would it be anyone else's fault?" She shakes her head in mild disbelief. "It's the night Mary first threatened to call a doctor. I - I remember her crying, and there was shouting, and it just hurt. It hurt so much, Rachel, and I thought - I thought, just maybe, maybe Mary could make it go away, you know?"

Rachel can barely stand this, and she closes her eyes so she doesn't have to see it. There are tears in Quinn's eyes but she isn't crying. Rachel thinks it'll be a while before that happens again.

"I guess, in the end, she kind of did," Quinn says. "It was a few days later when my mother told me I would be going to boarding school. I had a vague idea of what that was at the time, but Mary explained it all to me. While she cleaned my back and changed the dressings, she explained that boarding school was away from here, and away from my father. And, really, at the time, I wanted nothing else."

Rachel makes a mental note to find this Mary person and, possibly, hug her or something. She managed to help Quinn in some way, and that means something. It doesn't mean everything, but she tried, and Rachel can accept that.

Quinn seems to have good memories of Mary, and it seems that she's encountered so few 'good' adults in her life.

Before Rachel even knows what she's doing, her mouth is opening to ask a question she's sure she never would have asked, on any other day. "Can I see?"

Quinn's eyes snap up to look at her, wide and fearful. "What?"

Rachel swallows nervously. "Can I see?"

"My back?"

Rachel nods, choosing not to speak.

For the longest time, the two of them just stare at each other. It takes Quinn a full four and a half minutes to make the decision, and then she's shifting backwards and removing her t-shirt.

Rachel looks away, giving her some privacy until she's sure the girl has stopped moving.

When Rachel turns back, Quinn is lying on her stomach, her bare back on display. The smooth, pale skin is marred by scars of different sizes, and tears automatically spring to Rachel's eyes. Quinn's skin is so pink that the scars tend to blend in, but they're definitely there if you look close enough.

Rachel does that, practically crawling across the bed. "Quinn," she breathes once she settles at the blonde's side. With shaking, gentle fingers, she reaches out to touch Quinn's skin.

"Seriously," Quinn suddenly complains. "I think there must be something medically wrong with you, Rach. It's not normal to have such cold hands all the damn time."

Rachel just giggles softly, the tips of her fingers tracing the gentle curve of Quinn's back, following the dip down to her bottom. She smiles at the slight dimples she finds, and then leans forward to place tender kisses against the warm skin.

"Maybe you're just unnaturally warm," Rachel offers, her breath washing over porcelain skin.

"Like a werewolf?"

"The palour of your skin would beg to differ, baby. You're more suited for a vampire."

"Maybe I'm a hybrid."

"You're definitely very special," Rachel whispers, her lips brushing Quinn's soft flesh. The blonde shivers at the touch, and Rachel can't help her smile. "Very, very special. Practically one of a kind."

"Rachel," Quinn breathes shakily.

Rachel doesn't exactly take it as permission, but she still moves to drape her body over Quinn's, her kisses gentle against the back of Quinn's neck and shoulders. She kisses each of the scars with such reverence that it brings fresh tears to both their eyes.

"It was a belt buckle," Quinn tells her. "I know they're ugly."

Rachel doesn't even waste a second before she's speaking. "You are so beautiful," she whispers. "So beautiful."

"Rachel," Quinn mumbles, burying her face in a pillow.

"I love you," Rachel tells her, and she's never meant three words so much in her entire life. "I love you, and you are so beautiful. I love you, I love you, I love you."

When Rachel wakes, half her body is still draped over Quinn's, her warmth both welcome and slightly uncomfortable. Quinn is mostly still lying on her stomach, but she's turned a little towards Rachel.

She's also still naked from the waist up.

The second Rachel acknowledges that, she tenses.

And then relaxes.

The shift in pressure draws a small groan from Quinn, and she shifts slightly. Her brow furrows for a few seconds, her lips purse, and then she settles back into slumber.

Rachel just watches her, trying not to think about how creepy it is to watch her girlfriend sleep. It's just that Quinn is here, and she's breathing, and Rachel hasn't acknowledged how much of a miracle that is until this very moment.

And Rachel gets to have her.

God, if that isn't just Heaven and Earth, she doesn't know what is.

She spends endless minutes watching her girlfriend sleep, and then she deems herself way past creepy, and rolls out of bed, careful not to wake Quinn. She's quiet as she floats around her bedroom, gathering her clothes before she disappears into her bathroom. She takes her time, standing under the shower for long minutes and trying to ease the tension in her muscles and the ache in her chest.

She's not surprised when it doesn't work.

Quinn is still asleep when she gets out, and she's relieved for that. Rachel would sooner sit on Quinn's foot and hold onto her leg than have her going for a run today.

Or, any day, really.

Before Rachel leaves the room, she kisses Quinn's temple and lifts the covers higher. Whether it's for warmth, to protect her modesty or even hide the scars; Rachel doesn't know. "I love you," she whispers, because she can, and then she heads downstairs.

It's not exactly early, but it is the day after Christmas, and she suspects majority of her family is nursing a food coma. She would probably be in one as well, if she didn't feel so sick to her stomach.

She doesn't think it's a feeling that'll go away, but she still drinks a diluted glass of orange juice in an attempt to settle the unrest in her abdomen.

She greets her grandmother with a warm kiss to the cheek, and then goes in search of her father. It's not a surprise to find Hiram in his study, and she practically throws herself onto the couch.

"Good morning, Sweetheart," he says, sounding entirely too cheerful.

Rachel glares at him for a moment, and then sighs. "Hi, Dad," she says. Then: "You're up and about early."

"Quinn and I are usually on our walk right about now," he says, shrugging slightly.

"Yeah, you're going to have to go alone today," she says, her eyes narrowing slightly at the mere thought of Quinn doing any physical exercise. If her girlfriend wants to fight her about it, then she's going to get a really big one.

"Is she asleep?" Hiram asks.

Rachel nods. "I think she's actually really exhausted," she says. And then, because, God, she can't handle all of this herself, she says, "I also think she's been slowly starving herself."

Hiram takes that in with wide eyes. "Lee mentioned something about that," he says quietly. "Would you like one of us to talk to her?"

Rachel just looks at him helplessly. "I don't even know, Dad," she says, sounding helpless. "I just - I don't know what to do and I don't know how I'm supposed to help and she's just so perfect and broken and I don't know."

Hiram isn't sure what to say to her, and her body looks so tense that he suspects she won't be receptive to physical comfort. She hasn't been, really, since the assault. They offer as much as possible, but they've come to accept that she has to reach out for it.

Sometimes, it's a bitter pill to swallow.

Hiram knows it's nothing personal, but he can't help the sting he feels when Rachel flinches or steps away when he gets too close. It's been more than a year now, and it still affects him… because it still affects her.

His failure as a father - to protect her in the first place and comfort her afterward - is never more obvious in those moments.

He's never been more thankful for Emily-Anne. In a family primarily made up of boys, Rachel gravitated towards her in all the best and worst ways. He wouldn't go so far as to call it a dependence, but there was obvious attachment.

It's faded somewhat since the end of the trial and her subsequent switch to Dalton. Now, she has friends in Brittany and Santana and a boy named Kurt she sometimes tells them about.

And Quinn.

She has Quinn, who Hiram is coming to realise is almost as broken as his daughter once was.

Sometimes still is.

"Is there anything you would like us to do?" Hiram ventures to ask when the silence has dragged on for too long.

Growing up, Rachel was never one for long silences. She liked to fill them with the sound of her own voice, which is something that disappeared that fateful day.

Lots of things changed that day.

Too many things.

Rachel takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. "Can - can you just be a dad?" she asks in little more than a whisper. "Just, you know, ask her questions and pay attention to her and all those things that good dads do."

Hiram can't keep the stricken look off his face, and he opens his mouth to -

"Don't," Rachel says. "Don't ask me. Please."

Hiram blinks a few times, and then nods. "Okay."

"Just be a dad."

"I can do that."

Her smile is affectionate when it spreads across her tired features. "Yes, you can," she says. "You're actually rather good at it."

"So I've been told," he says with a playful shrug.

Rachel just sighs. "Did you manage to find out about children's rights?" she asks.

He nods. "Some, yes," he says. "Is that something you'd like me to talk to Quinn about? It would probably do her well to prepare herself, if certain things do happen."

"What do you mean?"

"She's going home, isn't she?"

"She's going to Hartford, yes."

There's the ghost of a smile on Hiram's face. Wherever Quinn lives is not a home. Got it. "If you say that it's her intention to… leave ho - Hartford once she turns eighteen, then this will probably be the last time she'll be there, correct?"

Rachel frowns. "You know when her birthday is?"

Hiram looks momentarily caught off guard. "Umm, yes," he says.

"Did Quinn tell you when it is?"

Hiram frowns. "Um, yes," he says. "Why?"

"She won't tell me," she grumbles. "She's convinced everything is going to change, and get infinitely better on her birthday, and she doesn't want me to…" she trails off.

"Start a countdown?" he finishes with a slight grin.

"I know it's in February," she says with a pout. Then: "you're not going to tell me, are you?"

His grin widens. "And ruin all the fun; I could never."

"Why did she tell you?"

Hiram drops his gaze, the smile slipping off his face. His brow is creased as he contemplates how to go about saying what he needs to. "Sweetheart, I believe Quinn is… very troubled."

Rachel blinks. Well, that's one way to put it. "By?"

"Her mortality."

Rachel just stares at him.

"On one of our walks, we went past the family cemetery," he explains. "She asked me if it were possible for me to have her buried there when she passes."

Rachel's eyes widen to saucers. "What!" She sucks in a breath. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, at the time, though I found it slightly odd that she assumed I would be the one burying her, it didn't seem important. There are a lot of things we've talked about on our walks that I haven't discussed with you."

Rachel acknowledges her odd sense of betrayal, but there's so much more her father is actually telling her. "Quinn expects to die before you?"

Hiram audibly swallows. "I thought it was merely something fanciful when she told me what her tombstone might say," he says, frowning. "But, it seems, we have more to worry about."

Rachel isn't sure what to say at first, her heart aching and her stomach churning. She's had her own dark thoughts before, but it just seems as if Quinn is living in them; as if she can't see a world where she doesn't deserve them.

"She has it in her mind that she's going to end up ruining my life the way she believes she ruined her parents'," Rachel says, wary of bringing up something so personal to Quinn. She's starting to think they're a little beyond that, now. Her father has learned about Quinn in his own way. "Sometimes, it seems as if she doesn't think she's worthy of the life she's been allowed to live, as if her life is owed to someone else."

Hiram gives her a thoughtful look, realising there's a large chunk of the story he's missing. "Is that why she, uh, works so hard?" he asks.

"I think she really just wants her parents to see her," she says. "She's Captain of so many things, a soccer superstar, a shoe-in for Valedictorian, the freaking Head Student, and it's as if she's amounted to nothing in their eyes. I see how much it breaks her, even though she'll never explicitly say it."

Hiram blinks slowly. "She helps you, but you help her too, don't you?"

"We're trying," she says with a single nod, shrugging slightly. Then, smiling crookedly, she asks, "Is it terribly presumptuous of me to declare that she may be the one?"

Hiram grins at her. "Does that mean we can start planning the wedding?"

Rachel laughs. "Hold off for another fifty years or something," she says, which is so far off her original plans for her life, but she's just trying to live.

He pretends to look devastated. "If you're planning on getting married that late, I'm not going to get to meet my grandchildren."

Rachel winks at him. "But I heard you're going to live forever."

He rolls his eyes. "If Quinn has anything to do with it, yes," he says. "She won't let me rest. I'm probably going to have to eat boiled carrots for the rest of my life."

"They're not that bad," she says.

Hiram shoots her a look of utter disbelief. "They really are."

And, all she can do is laugh.

What feels like an hour later, LeRoy walks right into the middle of a teenage girl standoff in the middle of the entrance hall. Rachel is standing with her hands on her hips, and Quinn is glaring right back at her.

They're both not budging.

"Daddy," Rachel suddenly says in relief when she spots him. "Tell Quinn she's not going for a run."

Quinn shoots him a pleading look before he can even formulate a response.

LeRoy knows nothing good can come of this.

"Quinn," Rachel says. "Can you just - please, just please?"

LeRoy isn't even sure what she's asking, but there's a certain desperation in her tone that both he and Quinn cannot ignore.

Of course, then, the blonde gives in.

She sighs dramatically. "Fine," she says, looking like it pains her to agree. "But, I'm going running tomorrow."

"Of course," Rachel says, breathing out in relief. She can barely bring herself to smile. "Now march your cute butt back upstairs and put your pyjamas back on. We're having a movie marathon in the den."

Quinn's eyes widen as they shift from Rachel to LeRoy and then back to Rachel. "Rachel, Lee is right there."

"And, I'm sure he'll agree with my assessment of your derriere."

Quinn groans, palming her forehead in exasperation. She glances at LeRoy, who's doing his best not to laugh. "She's your daughter," she says with a roll of her eyes, and he still can't get over the warmth that truth erupts in his chest all these years later.

Quinn feels awkward and uncomfortable the moment Eric asks her to sit next to him when they're just about to settle down for their first of many movies in the den. Her fingers twitch for a moment, and then she rolls her eyes and collapses halfway on top of Declan instead, which gets a squeal out of the boy.

Eric says nothing, and neither does Rachel.

Quinn remains sandwiched between Declan and Julian for the first movie, before she crawls onto the floor and lies on her stomach next to Rachel. The two of them don't speak to each other, but they do link their fingers under the blanket Rachel insists on having.

At some point, they'll have to talk about it, but that time isn't right now.

"I love you," Rachel whispers over the sound of laughter.

Quinn shifts closer, bumping their shoulders together. "I love you, too."

"I don't think you have a clue just how much."

"Tell me."

Rachel meets her gaze. In a moment, she knows that words will never amount to much with Quinn.

She's going to have to show her.

"Does Eric make you uncomfortable?" Rachel asks Quinn later that night when they're wrapped up in Quinn's bed, their bodies fitting together as if they were built for each other.

Quinn tenses for a beat. "I wouldn't call it that," she says, her hand pressed against the small of Rachel's back.

"What would you call it?"

Quinn licks her lips. "I thought you said he knew about us?"

"As far as I'm aware, he does."

"Then, I guess he just confuses me."

"Because he's acting as if you're available?"

"As if I'm even interested." She scoffs. "I'm not even a little bit bisexual. I like girls. I like you."

Rachel sighs. "Levi offered to speak to him."

"No," Quinn says gently. "We're only here for two more days, and I think it's best to keep them as drama-free as possible. It's fine."

Rachel presses a kiss to her throat, inhaling deeply. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Rachel's never felt so boneless and relaxed. Quinn's arms are safe. For whatever reason, she feels protected in them.

Just, in her presence, really.

"Don't go," is the first thing Rachel says when she hears Quinn moving around in the morning. She knows Quinn is on her way out with her father, but she wants nothing more than to drag her blonde back into bed and just hold her close.

Quinn just lets out a soft chuckle, presses a kiss to Rachel's forehead and then leaves.

Rachel can't bring herself to fall back asleep. Instead, she glares daggers at the phone Quinn deigned to leave behind on her nightstand.

She isn't even going to get started on the inhaler sitting right beside it.

When Rachel sees Quinn get back from her run, she jumps up and rushes to meet her at the front door. After a quick look around, she offers herself up for a sweaty kiss that Quinn willingly accepts.

When they pull apart, Rachel grabs hold of the blonde's hand and leads the way up the stairs to Daniel's room.

Quinn's room.

Their room.

Even though Rachel wants nothing more to devour Quinn - and the blonde knows it - Quinn gently shoves her towards the bed and then proceeds to gather her things for a shower.

Rachel throws herself onto the bed with a pout, and Quinn just laughs.

"I'll be right back," Quinn assures her, and then leaves the room.

Rachel just lies there for a full minute before she grows bored. She casts a look around the room for something with which to occupy herself, and she practically grins like a maniac when her eyes land on Quinn's phone on her nightstand.

"Hah," she declares, reaching for it, and immediately opens her girlfriend's camera. Serves her right for just leaving it behind. She snaps a few pictures of herself pulling funny faces, before she scrolls through Quinn's camera roll.

She feels a slight twinge of… guilt at going through Quinn's phone, but Quinn willingly gave her the password, so what could she really expect to find? It's not as if she's reading her messages or anything like that.

Most of Quinn's pictures are of, well, Rachel. Then a lot of other students at school, who all seem all too eager to be in one of the Head Student's prized photographs.

When she comes across a picture of the two of them, Rachel pauses to study it closely. It's a selfie that she took, her arms extended in front of her, with Quinn standing behind her, arms wrapped around her waist. Quinn isn't even looking at the camera, but rather at her, and the expression on her face tells Rachel everything she needs to know.

Quinn Fabray is it.

They may both have a myriad of problems to work through, but she wouldn't want to do any of it with anybody else.

Just Quinn.

Only Quinn.

Rachel debates with herself for a few moments, before she decides to set the picture as Quinn's Home Screen only, leaving her Lock Screen as a picture of an extremely detailed bee that she drew.

Quinn's never really talked about the importance of the buzzing animal, but Rachel's waiting patiently.

Rachel is still busy scrolling through pictures when Quinn returns, the blonde merely raising her eyebrows at the sight of her phone in Rachel's hand.

"You have far too many Harry Potter memes," Rachel says in response, and Quinn just laughs as she continues to towel-dry her hair. "Do I have a Potterhead as a girlfriend?"

"That depends," Quinn says, eyeing her carefully. "What would it mean for our relationship if I said yes?"

Rachel sets the phone on the bed and straightens her spine. "Well, it would probably mean we would be able to have in-depth conversations about said literary masterpieces."

Quinn grins at her. "Then, yes, you have a complete Potterhead as a girlfriend."

"As if you could get any sexier."

Quinn instantly flushes, and then chucks her towel at Rachel. "I just showered," she says. "Don't get me all hot and bothered."

Rachel pushes herself up onto her knees and crawls to the end of the bed. "But hot and bothered is exactly how I like you," she murmurs, crooking her finger to get Quinn to move towards her.

As if summoned, Quinn starts walking.

Rachel rises up and slips her arms around Quinn's neck when she's close enough. "You are actually incredibly satisfying to look at," she says. "Like, I could probably stare at you for all of eternity."

Quinn's blush only deepens. "Why just stare when you can touch?" she asks, arching an eyebrow.

"Now, that is a very good question," Rachel muses, before going in for a much-overdue kiss.

Quinn isn't the only one who ends up hot and bothered.

"Hey, Lee," Quinn says. "Got a second?"

LeRoy looks up from the recipe book he's perusing, an automatic smile coming to his face at the sight of the blonde. "I've got more than one for you," he says. "What's up?"

Quinn slips into the chair opposite him at the kitchen table and clasps her fingers together in front of her. "I have a… favour to ask," she says. "For Rachel."

"Well, we both know I would do anything for that girl," he says, giving her his full attention. "What do you need?"

Quinn nibbles on her bottom lip for a moment. "Well, the long and short of it all is I would like to take her on a date before we leave," she says. "I know going into town is completely out of the question, so my plan is to do it here."

"Here?"

"Well, in the vineyard, actually," she says. "I found some pretty decent spots while I was out running and, if it's not too cold, I think we could have a pretty decent picnic."

"Rachel likes picnics," LeRoy says.

"I know."

He smiles. "Of course," he says. "So, what do you need from me?"

Quinn waits only a beat before she pulls out her phone, opens the Note she's been working on since she had the picnic idea, and then proceeds to fill in LeRoy on her plan.

And, well, the man actually swoons.