Chapter Twenty-Six
"Guess who scored another hat trick," Rachel practically sings as she drops into a chair beside Kurt the next night at dinner. "That's two games in a row."
"And ten goals," Kurt says.
"Eleven, actually," Rachel corrects, wincing slightly. She suspects she's going to be dealing with the fact that her girlfriend is ridiculously talented at this sport for many years to come.
"Wow," Blaine murmurs from Kurt's other side. "I didn't know she was that good."
Kurt muses over that for a moment. "I think she's finally allowing herself to be," he says softly. "I mean, I can't remember her being this prolific before. The entire school was talking about her seven goals on Saturday, and I'm pretty sure that's never happened."
"The school blog is going bonkers," Blaine adds. "The Dalton Chronicle even dubbed her Captain Griffin."
"She's practically the poster child for Dalton," Kurt says.
"They should pay her," Rachel muses, laughing softly.
"I'm assuming they won," Kurt says, and Rachel nods. "She was talking about going for a full sweep of victories this season. Do you reckon, if we asked, we could ask her to try to score a hat trick in every game?"
Rachel laughs, and then produces her phone. "We'll ask her right now."
Together, the three of them send Quinn a congratulatory voice note, and then ask her their burning question.
The reply arrives a minute later, in the form of another voice note, and Rachel practically swoons at the sound of Quinn's perfect - though tired - voice.
"Hey, Weirdoes, thank you! We're on the bus back now and, you were right, Rach, I am pretty exhausted. A hat trick every game, huh? That's quite a lofty goal you're setting for me there. I bet it was your idea, Kurt." She pauses. "Tell me, what's in it for me?"
Rachel is possibly the only one who hears the suggestiveness in Quinn's voice, and she shifts in her seat.
Blaine laughs. "And that is exactly why Quinn is going to go far in life," he muses. "What does she get out of it?"
"Recognition," Kurt offers. "Her choice of people to date. A soccer scholarship to the college of her choice. So many things, really."
Rachel presses her lips together, bristling slightly at the idea of Quinn becoming even remotely more appealing to the masses. Her general aloofness keeps people away, in general but, ever since she started her campaign for Head Student, she's offered up pieces of herself that have made her even more likeable. Rachel didn't think she would have a problem with it until this moment.
"About that," Rachel starts, her eyes on Kurt. "I kind of need your help."
"Oh, is that why you've come to sit with us after you're done eating with Santana and Brittany?"
Blaine rolls his eyes. "He's totally not sour about it," he sarcastically tells Rachel. "Ignore him."
Rachel leans into Kurt for a brief moment. "I know you probably find this a little insulting, but you and Santana are actually startlingly alike."
Kurt gasps. "Consider me insulted."
Rachel giggles, and Blaine just smiles.
"I actually want to talk to you about Owen Masterson."
Kurt perks up. "Oh?"
"Who?" Blaine questions.
After briefly explaining the sort-of scout to the other boy, Kurt looks at Rachel. "I assume you've spoken to Quinn then?"
Rachel nods. "She knows about him, and she's not against talking to him. She's just... conflicted. I know she'll never actually tell me straight, but there's a part of her that's always really had her heart set on Yale, but that's not really an option anymore."
"Oh?"
Rachel sighs. "It's complicated."
"I imagine it is."
Rachel knows she can't quite give much away, and she's going to have to have another talk with Quinn about who they're going to start letting into their little world.
Kurt is, of course, high up on Quinn's list.
Santana and Brittany are practically at the top of Rachel's.
"I think you should talk to her, as well," Rachel says. "It's important that she knows you'd support her, whatever she decides. And, you know, if you happen to drop into conversation that you're definitely headed to New York, then that's just helping my cause to keep her as close to the East Coast as possible."
Kurt grins at her. "You want her in New York?"
"Don't you?"
Kurt shrugs. "I want her where she's going to be happiest and, if that happens to be in New York, with us, then I want that too."
Rachel's features soften considerably, and she feels herself getting emotional. She could kiss him in this moment. "God, Kurt, she's lucky to have you, isn't she?"
Kurt smiles at her. "She's lucky to have you too, you know?" There's something knowing in his eyes, and Rachel wonders if he actually knows they're more than just friends.
Has she given them away?
Rachel clears her throat. "So, that's the whole Owen thing," she says; "but there's something else."
"Oh?"
"My project for the month is to get Quinn and Santana to talk."
Kurt lets out an unexpected laugh, and then shakes his head. "You're insane."
"Quinn calls me ridiculous," she says proudly. "But I'm determined. I know it will do them both good."
"How?" Kurt questions. "How can forcing her into a situation she clearly doesn't want be helpful?"
Rachel presses her lips together, and then asks, "Is that what she's told you?"
"Not in so many words."
"Kurt," Rachel says, and she's suddenly exhausted. "What happened between them isn't healthy, and it's not helping Quinn with her trust issues. I know I can help, and the only way to do that is to get them to talk and have the whole truth out in the open."
Kurt stares at her. "Are you sure you don't just want all your friends to get along?"
"I won't lie and say that's not a part of it," she admits; "but it's more about Quinn."
Kurt sobers slightly. "I don't know why I'm so protective of her," he whispers. "I mean, it's you."
"Don't stop, even if it is me," Rachel says. "Actually, especially if it's me. The closer we get; the more power I have to hurt her, and I don't want to do that, so I'm okay with you keeping me in check." She smiles sadly. "For what it's worth, I do believe Quinn wants this. Santana was her friend, and the fact that she doesn't even know why they're no longer friends... hurts her. And I don't want her to hurt, Kurt. She hurts enough."
Kurt wraps his arm around her shoulders. "You're a good friend, Rachel."
Rachel sighs. She's more than that, but she can't say those words. At a certain point, all this secrecy is going to be too much for her to handle, and she hopes nothing she does gives them away before she has a chance to talk to Quinn about it.
Honestly, it feels as if they constantly have things to talk about, and yet nothing seems to get resolved. The list just keeps on growing.
"We should probably reply to Quinn," Blaine says, cutting into their moment.
Rachel ignores the tears threatening behind her eyes. "What is she getting out of the deal?" she asks.
"My first born child," Blaine offers because, really, there's no way Quinn can maintain her already prolific scoring record.
For a moment, Rachel allows herself to acknowledge that she and Quinn may or may not require donor sperm if ever they decide to have a baby, and Blaine may or may not have just signed a verbal contract.
If Quinn can do it, of course.
Kurt straightens. "That seems a little overboard, Anderson," he comments. "I was just going to say I would design and sew a jacket for her, free of charge. She'll end up making me famous when she's famous, so, really, it's a win-win for me."
Rachel laughs. "I'll probably dedicate my first Tony win to her," she says, which she thinks she probably would have done, anyway.
Rachel won't admit it to Quinn yet, but the girl has played such a big role in ensuring she still has the drive to reach the dream Justin almost robbed from her.
Just, she's doing it more calmly.
And, with the potential love of her life at her side.
Or, a little in front of her, shielding her, protecting her, but never hiding her.
"Intense," Kurt comments.
"Or, I'll just go with my first born child as well," Rachel says with a secret smile, and then she's opening Quinn's chat again and they're recording the voice note, all three of them caught in a bout of giggles at the absurdity of their offerings.
Quinn's reply, once again, arrives a minute later, and she sounds so adorably sleepy that Rachel has to force herself not to whimper.
"I'm about to fall asleep, so I'll talk to you guys later," Quinn drowsily says. "Thank you for your offerings, though. Consider it done. Your babies are mine."
Rachel just laughs, Kurt looks a little smug, and Blaine looks positively mortified.
"She's going to do it, isn't she?" Blaine whispers.
"Definitely," Rachel says.
Kurt just pats his arm in sympathy, and then turns back to Rachel. "Distract him with your plans to reunite possibly the two most intimidating girls in this school."
Rachel just laughs as her phone buzzes again.
Quinn: For Rachel's eyes only.
Quinn: I can't wait to make a baby with you. We're getting started as soon as I get back.
This time, Rachel actually squeaks, and then has to fumble for something, anything, to tell Kurt and Blaine, who are both looking at her as if she's lost her mind.
Maybe she has.
Quinn has barely any time to set down her bag or even close her door before she's immediately accosted by a very determined Rachel Berry.
"Quinn Fabray," Rachel demands, pushing Quinn up against the door and effectively slamming it shut. "I was in public. You can't say things like that to me when I'm in public."
Quinn opens her mouth to defend herself, only to find it suddenly engaged in the kind of kiss that immediately has her knees buckling.
"Oh, God," she breathes, suddenly helpless. "Rachel."
"Do you have any idea how much I've missed you today?" Rachel murmurs, dragging her lips away from Quinn's and kissing along her jaw. She has a destination in mind, and she licks the length of Quinn's neck, down to her collarbone.
Quinn's head drops back with a thud against the door, a moan escaping from between her lips as Rachel sucks on her skin.
And then bites.
Quinn gasps, and then scrambles for purchase on any part of Rachel she can reach. One hand grips her waist, and the other slides into her hair, fisting hard and lifting Rachel's head to kiss her again.
It's a hot, sloppy kiss, and Quinn can't seem to catch her breath. She doesn't want to, because more breathing equals less kissing, and she's not willing to deal.
Quinn starts to dictate the kiss, which is so not what Rachel intended, but she's not complaining.
"More," Rachel whimpers, and Quinn immediately switches their positions, so now Rachel is pressed against the door, with the length of Quinn's body engulfing hers.
More.
They kiss, a mashing of teeth and tongues and lips for endless minutes before Rachel pushes on Quinn's chest to get some much needed air, and the blonde pulls back, looking totally dazed.
"I - wow," Rachel stammers, because they've never kissed like that. She shakes her head to try to clear it, and then asks, "did you eat?"
It takes Quinn a bit longer to recover, and she gently tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry, but did you just stop me from tasting you to ask me if I've had dinner?"
Rachel tilts her head to the side. "I'm asking because I intend to get you on that bed and undress you, so I'd rather have no distractions once you're horizontal."
Quinn sucks in a sharp breath.
"Got a problem with that?"
Quinn reaches blindly with her right hand and locks her door, and then she smiles so affectionately at Rachel that Rachel's sure she's going to start crying. "I love you," Quinn says.
Rachel just presses a soft kiss to her lips, and then pushes her back until she's taking steps towards the bed.
"Lie down," Rachel gently instructs. "I want to make you feel good."
"You already do," Quinn murmurs, but she still moves to lie on her bed, her eyes never once drifting away from Rachel's face.
"I want to make you feel better, then."
Quinn just smiles. "I don't know what that means."
"It means that you're going to lie there and let me kiss every inch of skin we're both ready for."
Quinn stares at her. "Are you sure?"
"Take off your shirt, Quinn," she instructs, and the blonde immediately does as she's told, quickly removing her school tracksuit top and then her polo shirt and chucking them across the room, which makes both girls laugh.
Rachel studies her as she stands at the edge of the bed, her eyes roaming over Quinn's defined muscles and her pale skin... that's probably going to develop some colour with the amount of time she's going to be spending in the sun.
"The bra is mine," Rachel finds herself saying, and then moves to straddle Quinn on the bed. She supports her weight with her knees, because there are things she's ready for, and one of those is not grinding against a topless Quinn Fabray when she's determined to make her feel good.
Better.
Rachel starts with her lips, kissing her chastely, before she moves on to all the skin within kissing distance. She traces the angle of Quinn's jaw with her own lips, breathing unsteadily. She can't reliably claim that her breathing hasn't been out of sorts from the moment she acknowledged Quinn Fabray was someone she needed to know.
With a deep sigh, she noses the shell of Quinn's ear, and then nibbles at her lobe, which makes Quinn squirm helplessly. There's a certain level of power to be found in being able to turn Quinn into this quivering mess, and Rachel basks in it.
"Captain Griffin," Rachel murmurs into Quinn's ear. "Striker Extraordinaire. Dalton's very own Number Nineteen. So, so sexy." Her right hand rises up to cup Quinn's breast through her bra, gently squeezing.
"Oh, my God," Quinn breathes.
Rachel continues to massage Quinn's flesh, rolling a stiff nipple between her fingers through the fabric. It's one of the first times Quinn hasn't complained about her having cold hands, and Rachel reasons that might be because they're both burning hot.
Rachel has to kiss her mouth again, and it's a deep, all-consuming kiss that has them both panting uncontrollably.
"Can - can I take this off?" Rachel asks, breathless and wanting.
Quinn is incoherent, her body arching into Rachel's hands. "Wha - "
"This," Rachel murmurs, tugging on Quinn's bra strap. "Please, baby, I want to see you."
"God."
"I want to touch you."
What happens next is a hazy scramble, both of them reaching for each other at the same time. Rachel's hands find the clasp of Quinn's bra, while Quinn tugs on her shirt, desperately wanting to lift it off her body.
Somehow, they manage not to take an eye out, and Rachel is reduced to her bra at the same time Quinn is completely bare.
Rachel has caught glimpses before, but this is the first time she's presented with Quinn Fabray in all her glory.
"You're gorgeous," Rachel breathes, unabashedly staring at the flesh before her. "So, so beautiful."
Quinn's first instinct is to cover herself up, but the way Rachel is staring at her makes her feel more powerful than vulnerable. There's unexplainable wonder in the brunette's eyes, and Quinn feels herself start to relax.
Which proves to be pointless, because her body is tensing again when Rachel's mouth descends on her warm skin. She's only ever done this with Tori, but it's different now. There's so much care in Rachel's approach.
Besides the first few times with Tori, she and Quinn were never quite so gentle.
This.
This is love.
Rachel's mouth is warm against her skin, kissing, suckling and nipping. Quinn thinks she's ready for it, but she's really not. The very second she feels that warm mouth around her left nipple, all coherent thought escapes her.
God, it's never felt like this.
Quinn's fingers find their way into Rachel's hair, gently guiding her, even as her own body squirms from the pleasure. Her breathing is ragged and uncontrolled, and she can feel Rachel smile against her.
Rachel switches her mouth's attention to her other breast, her hand taking over on the left, and the sensation is almost too much for Quinn to handle.
"Oh, fuck," Quinn hisses when Rachel tugs with her teeth, and then releases with a pop.
The brunette lifts her head, looking smug. "Good?" she asks.
Quinn drags her in for a searing kiss. "Better."
It's later, when Quinn is half asleep and looking all kinds of adorable that Rachel brings up something she's been wary of bringing up prior to this moment.
Well, she's still anxious about it, but Quinn is smiling dopily, and Rachel has literally never been more in love than she is in this moment.
"Quinn," Rachel whispers.
"Hmm?"
Rachel presses a soft kiss to her cheek, smiling at the way her nose crinkles but her eyes stay closed. "My mom wants to meet you," she says. "Like, officially."
Quinn's eyes fly open, and Rachel giggles. "What?" Quinn sputters. "Wait, what? When?"
Rachel smoothes a hand over blonde hair. "Relax," she murmurs. "Everything's okay."
"Rach?"
"She wanted to get you a Christmas present," Rachel starts, watching Quinn's face carefully. "It was going to be something extravagant and totally garish, but I managed to curb her excitement, somewhat." She bites her bottom lip for a moment. "So, instead, she purchased two tickets for us to spend Spring Break with her in New York."
The fact that all Quinn does is openly stare at her prompts Rachel to keep talking.
"I mean, you'll get to meet her, officially, and possibly play mediator if things start going south between us because, let's face it, it's bound to happen. We can also go to the NYADA campus, and I could show you where I'll probably be living, because I'll probably know if I've been accepted by then. And, I mean, we can also look at the other New York schools, if you wanted." She glances away for a moment. "We could also pop out to Jersey to look at Princeton. I hear it's a lovely school, and their girls' soccer program is one of the better ones."
Quinn sighs. "Rachel," she breathes; "you're telling me a lot of things, right now."
"I want to go to New York with you," she says. "Over Spring Break." She shifts in closer to Quinn. "I want to experience the city I love with you, and maybe have you fall in love with it, too, so you won't absolutely hate visiting me from wherever you end up."
Quinn shifts slightly. "New York, huh?"
"New York," Rachel confirms. "Is that something you'd be interested in doing? Visiting my mom, for like a full week?"
"What if she doesn't like me?"
"She already likes you."
Quinn waits in silence for a moment. "This is a gift," she eventually says; "I don't know how I could possibly refuse it."
"You can if you want to," Rachel offers. "Baby, you're under no obligation to accept. You know that, right?"
"I know," Quinn murmurs, her arms tightening around Rachel. "But I want to. Accept, I mean." She closes her eyes. "I want to go to New York with you, and I want to experience all the things you love about it."
Rachel can't help her beaming smile, even though Quinn can't see it.
"We can even go see Princeton," Quinn murmurs, drifting to sleep. "Columbia is also on my list. It'll be closer to you."
And, okay, Rachel knows she's suddenly far too excited by the prospect of having Quinn right there to follow Quinn into slumber.
Oh, the possibilities are endless.
Rachel thinks waiting a few days to bring up a possible meal with Santana and Brittany to Quinn is what's needed, so she forces herself to hold her tongue.
Santana doesn't ask her about it, and neither does Kurt. He claims the best thing to do is to be patient, which Rachel, admittedly, isn't all that great at. She can be, but it takes a lot out of her.
In the days leading up to the date Rachel sets for herself to bring it up again, several things happen.
First, Quinn scores another hat trick against St Andrew's, which makes it a hat trick of hat tricks.
Second, Rachel fights with her mother about, well, Brody, without either of them even mentioning his name.
Third, Quinn receives a call from Tori that she hesitates to take, but does, just to say that Tori shouldn't be calling her.
Fourth, Rachel receives a call from Noah that she decidedly doesn't take, because she's been ignoring his calls since she left Wallingford.
Fifth, Quinn sketches a picture of Rachel's completely bare upper body, who blushes madly when Quinn presents it to her (and then kisses the blonde completely senseless).
Sixth, Rachel finally decides on the perfect song she wants to sing for/with Quinn, as she once promised.
Seventh, Quinn decides and so declares that she won't be considering attending any schools on the West Coast.
Eighth, Rachel receives two texts from Eric, asking how she's doing at school and telling her he misses her (which she tries to forget about without mentioning them to Quinn or replying to).
And, ninth, this:
"So, I called Owen."
Rachel actually trips over her own feet when Quinn falls into step beside her as they're walking to the choir room for full rehearsals on Monday. While they're going to spend the next seventy-five minutes together, they don't spend them anywhere near each other.
Rachel is front and centre, and Quinn is a part of the female chorus.
"You did?" Rachel questions.
Quinn nods. "I invited him to our game against Redhill on Thursday," she says. "He said he was planning on coming anyway, and then he offered to take me to dinner afterwards, so we can discuss my options for next year and beyond."
"Oh?"
"He thinks I could even be playing professionally, if I wanted."
"Do you?"
Quinn shrugs. "I think I'd like to play in college," she says. "I'm not sure I actually want to make a career out of it."
Rachel slows to a stop. "I don't think I've ever actually asked you this, but what do you want to be when you grow up?"
Quinn smiles this sad, beautiful smile that makes Rachel want to kiss her. "I just want to be happy."
"Doing what?"
"Do I have to be doing something to be happy?" she asks, and she sounds legitimately curious to know the answer.
"I don't think so."
"But, if I must, I would much rather be doing you."
Rachel laughs out loud, tilting her head back. "What am I the ever going to do with you?"
Quinn shrugs, and then gets them walking again. "Well, I'm pretty sure I could think of a few things."
Rachel nudges her with her elbow. "Be serious."
"I am," Quinn says with a grin. "But, really, for quite a large chunk of my life, I wanted to be a doctor."
"Oh?"
"Because of Frannie," Quinn confesses quietly. "I wanted to be the one to save the little kids, you know?" She shakes her head. "It was mainly Lucy's dream, really."
"It can still be yours," Rachel tells her. "Your dreams don't have to be separate from Lucy's, just because you're the one who's old enough to realise them."
"I'm not sure it's what I want, anymore, though."
Rachel waits patiently, even if they are nearing the choir room. They'll have to go their separate ways, and she's not sure leaving Quinn in this almost-vulnerable state is a good idea.
So, Rachel drags her to a stop. "Baby," she starts; "it doesn't have to be some kind of forever decision, okay? I'm going to help you figure it out. If all you want is to be happy, then I reckon that's a lofty goal you've set for yourself, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Rachel doesn't think she's really accomplished anything, but Quinn does give her a relieved, lopsided smile that gives her some hope. They still have so much with which to deal, but they have no choice but to take it one step at a time.
They're bound to stumble, otherwise.
They stumble.
It happens the morning of Quinn's home game against Redhill. Rachel doesn't really see it coming until she returns to her room after her morning shower to find Quinn sitting on the edge of the bed, a pensive look on her face.
"Quinn," Rachel squeaks in surprise, freezing in the doorway.
For the longest time, Quinn doesn't say anything. Then, with a controlled voice, she asks, "Rachel, is there something you need to tell me?"
And, okay, there are quite a few things to which Quinn could be referring, and Rachel knows she needs to be careful, in case she ends up opening an entirely different can of worms.
Rachel closes her bedroom door, and then sets her toiletry bag on her desk before hanging up her towel to buy herself some time. Eventually, she has no choice but to turn and face Quinn. "Maybe," she offers. "What are we talking about here?"
Quinn's face pinches slightly. "Could we be talking about more than one thing?" she asks.
Shit.
Rachel audibly swallows, but she doesn't say anything.
Quinn shifts, folding her arms across her chest. "Why is Kurt under the impression Santana and I are supposed to be resuming our friendship?"
Rachel blinks. "What?"
"Why does he think I'm even going to entertain the idea of something like that?"
Because you are, Rachel thinks, but her mouth says, "When did he tell you that?"
"Rachel."
She moves to sit beside Quinn. "Okay," she starts; "so, I might have mentioned to him that I'm trying to get you and Santana to sit together and talk. I thought I could use his help."
Quinn frowns. "So, what, you thought you could orchestrate this whole thing, and we'd just be these pawns in your grand scheme?"
"No," she says, ignoring the lingering anger in Quinn's voice. "Nothing like that."
"Has it ever occurred to you that I mean it when I say this isn't what I want?"
"Of course it has," she says; "but we both know better, Quinn. Your mouth says one thing, but you're really saying something else."
"I don't know what it is you think you're hearing, but I can assure you I mean what I say," Quinn counters, and she sounds about as serious as Rachel has ever heard her. "Why can't you just listen to the words that are actually coming out of my mouth? I don't want to have to repeat myself, and I really don't need you talking to my friends about something that isn't ever going to happen."
"But, it can," Rachel argues. "I don't understand why you won't even try."
"Why should I?" Quinn asks. "It's not like she's made any effort before, so why should I?"
"Quinn?"
"No, Rachel," she says. "I don't need Santana, okay? I have you, and I have Kurt and I have Blaine, and I don't need her, okay? I don't." She looks away. "I don't need anyone. I'm not going to let anyone have that kind of power over me again." She looks at Rachel. "Not even you."
Rachel isn't exactly sure what's happening right now. How did they even get to talking about this? What are they even talking about?
"Quinn?"
"Please," Quinn says tiredly. "Please, just stop. I don't want this to become a thing, Rachel. I respect your decision to have Santana as your friend, so I'm asking you to respect mine not to."
Rachel watches her imploringly. "I'm sorry," she finally says. Then: "I love you."
Quinn smiles sadly. "I know you do," she says; "and I know you think you're just trying to help, but I've made peace with this, and it looks like she has, too."
"She hasn't," Rachel says, deflating. "She wants to talk to you, but she doesn't know how, and I just wanted to make it easier for both of you."
Quinn visibly stiffens. "She wants to talk?"
Rachel nods slowly. "I'm just playing mediator, baby," she says. "She's wanted to explain for a while, but the more time passed, the harder it got, so she just kind of left it alone."
Quinn considers this for a moment, and then shakes her head. "No," she finally says. "I'm not doing this. I've made peace with it, and now so should the both of you."
Rachel has more she has to say, but she holds her tongue. It won't do to overwhelm Quinn with all her worries about how she's supposed to navigate life when her girlfriend and one of her best friends can barely look at each other.
What happens in New York?
Santana has plans to go to NYU or Columbia, and Brittany is likely to attend Tisch when the admissions committee inevitably approves her audition tape.
Rachel won't even get started on Kurt's desire to attend FIT or Blaine's aspirations to join her at NYADA.
The six of them have the opportunity to take the city by storm, but Rachel gets the feeling Quinn is resisting for a reason. Maybe she's decided it's too dangerous to get so attached.
"Rachel?" Quinn says, her voice quiet.
"Hmm?"
"I do have you, right?" she asks, and she sounds so vulnerable. "You're - you're not going anywhere, right?"
Rachel slips an arm around Quinn's waist, hugging her close. "Of course, baby," she says; "I'm not going anywhere."
For whatever reason, Rachel believes they've just managed to avoid some kind of crisis.
Just to land themselves in another one.
Because, well, then the worst thing that can happen, happens.
Rachel's phone pings on her nightstand, and Quinn reaches for it with the intention of handing it to Rachel.
But.
Quinn's eyes drop to the screen without her say-so, and she freezes. "Rachel," she says, her voice strangled. "Eric is texting you."
And, really, Rachel doesn't know how to respond to that.
"Rachel," Quinn says again, and this time she looks at the texts. "He's asking if you're okay. He's asking why you haven't been replying to him." Quinn stares at her, trying to read her face. "How - how long has this been going on?" It isn't asked like an accusation - it's more curious than anything - but Rachel immediately goes on the defensive.
They stumble.
Quinn falls to the ground, and Rachel feels as if she's the one who's pushed her.
It's been almost a month since their worst fight to date, but this one is right up there. Quinn doesn't even really see it coming. She came here to get clarification on Rachel's intentions to get her to talk to Santana, and now Rachel is screaming at her.
"He's my brother!" She's up on her feet, pacing. "I don't have to tell you everything, you know? If he wants to text me, then he should be able to. As far as he knows, I don't even know how he feels."
And, Quinn has never been one to take things lying down. "And, yeah, not replying to him isn't going to freak him out," she shoots right back, sarcasm lacing her tone. "He's probably going out of his mind thinking I told you."
"And who's fault is that?"
Quinn actually sputters. "My fault? How is any of this my fault?"
"You're the one who kept Skype on," she accuses. "I could have been fine, blissfully unaware of what my brother feels about me, but now I know, and it's ruined everything about our relationship and it's all because of you!" It's an irrational accusation, she knows, but maybe she and Quinn are destined to have these kinds of fights at least once a month.
It's not really all that ugly until Rachel makes it, because Quinn just doesn't understand. How could she possibly understand what it's like to be Rachel in this position?
"You don't get it," Rachel shoots at her. "You don't have any siblings, so you don't know what it's like."
They freeze at the same time.
Rachel gasps in horror at the sound of her own words, a hand flying up to cover her mouth, and Quinn can barely look at her. She feels cold all over, and she doesn't even know what she could possibly say.
Quinn doesn't have a sibling.
She did, once, but not anymore.
Quinn slowly rises to her feet and smoothes down her pristine uniform. "You're right," she calmly says. "I don't get it, and I probably never will. What you do about your situation with Eric is up to you. I shouldn't be getting involved when it obviously has nothing to do with me; you're right." And then she walks out of the room.
Rachel has no choice but to let her.
Rachel doesn't see Quinn all day and, even if she did, she has no idea what she could even say at the point. An apology just seems moot, but she reasons it'll have to be a start.
It messes with her mood and, when she receives a text from Kurt, asking her what's up with Quinn, she excuses herself from class and spends five minutes crying in the bathroom.
She doesn't reply to Eric because she doesn't know what to say to him.
It doesn't help that her father and LeRoy have also got involved, each of them wondering if she's just not receiving Eric's messages. At some point, she knows she's going to have to deal with all of this, and she was kind of hoping that Quinn would be at her side.
Now, though, the blonde seems to be avoiding her, and Rachel can't even bring herself to be mad about it.
She would probably do the same.
Quinn scores a hat trick against Redhill.
And then she gets herself sent off in the eighty-third minute.
Rachel sits in the stands with Kurt and Blaine, her eyes tracking every move Quinn makes on and off the pitch.
She spies Owen early during the game. He's sitting pitch side, and Quinn spends a few minutes speaking to him during half time, which is the least of the excitement the captain of the Dalton Academy Griffins experiences.
Rachel can almost see it coming.
It's born of frustration, because Quinn has been tackled left right and centre, and she's been in the referee's ear all game because she's convinced she's not getting enough protection.
When it happens, Quinn loses the ball in the midfield, and it's a foul that isn't given. As a result, she chases back and pulls on the other girl's jersey to halt her progress.
It's supposedly a cynical foul because it stopped a fast break.
Quinn receives her second yellow card and her marching orders in quick succession. For a moment, she looks as if she wants to protest, but she doesn't. Rachel watches the slump of her shoulders; the moment the fight leaves her.
The referee says something to her, and Quinn's features darken considerably. Rachel can only imagine what was said, but she doubts she's going to get anything out of Quinn tonight.
Quinn barely looks up when she's forced to leave the field, and Rachel feels her heart twist painfully in her chest and the utter defeat in her body language.
"Shit," Kurt says under his breath.
Rachel repeats the sentiment.
"It could have happened to anyone."
Quinn knows, on some level, that Owen is just trying to help. It's obvious in the nervous way he fidgets that he's not sure how to handle her in this moment. He came out here to sell the college dream to her, and he clearly doesn't know how to go about it now that he's faced with a sullen teenager.
"No, it couldn't," Quinn says, and she sounds entirely too calm.
"The ref was biased," he says. "It happens."
Quinn looks up at him, ignoring her still-untouched steak. "It couldn't have happened to 'anyone,' because I'm the only Fabray in the league," she says.
It takes him a moment, and then he clicks. "Oh."
Quinn shrugs. "I suppose I should get used to it," she says. "I mean, I am used to it, but I've never had to deal with it this way before."
Owen leans forward at the small table they're sharing. "We could report her."
"What good would that do?"
"She shouldn't be allowed to treat you unfairly, Quinn," he says. "It shouldn't matter who you are."
"But it does," she says. "It's always going to matter."
There's something broken in her voice, and Owen is suddenly sure he's way out of his depth. He's dedicated his life to locating talent and trying to get them as far as he possibly can, but he's never had to get this involved.
Usually, kids are flocking to him when he shows up at their games, but not this kid. This one has been resisting him for far too long, and it's the first time he realises why.
"Your parents," he says, as if it's the answer to everything he doesn't understand about her.
Quinn glances at him, and then looks down again. "My parents," she confirms quietly.
Owen shifts his half-eaten steak out of the way. He's not even that hungry. "What I can offer you, Quinn, you won't even need them," he says. "I can promise you that."
"Can you promise you can protect me from them?" she asks. "Because, that's the only kind of promise that means anything to me."
Owen sucks in a sharp breath. He's definitely not cut out for this. "I can't," he finally says.
"I thought so."
Owen leans back. "What do you want?" he asks. "What are we even doing here?"
Quinn sighs, and she looks so defeated. "I want a lot of things," she whispers, more to herself than anything. Then, louder, she says, "You said Princeton is interested."
"They're just one of many," he confirms. "With the way you've been playing, I'm sure you're going to receive renewed interest. Especially when people find out you've been talking to me."
"Are they?"
"What?"
"Going to find out?"
Owen shrugs. "Maybe."
Quinn shifts slightly. "Okay," she says. "Okay."
"Okay what?"
"I'm not going to pick my college for soccer," she says. "I know the best place for that would probably be the West Coast, but I'm staying this side, okay?"
He nods, because it's obvious she's getting down to business. If she only knew how much power she holds, he knows he would be screwed. He needs her far more than she needs him.
"I expect to have an actual career once I'm done, which means I need a good degree." She pauses, visibly thinking over her next words. "I also need to be somewhere that's… liberal."
His eyebrows shoot up in question.
Quinn gives him a very significant look, and she's saying a hell of a lot without opening her mouth. "You've met my best friends," is what she does end up saying.
Owen just nods.
"I would prefer to be as close to New York as possible, but I was willing to stay in Connecticut, so I'm open to as far as Boston or even D.C."
Owen thinks he should be taking notes, but he doesn't want to disrupt her flow by making too sudden a movement.
"You're not actually a scout, are you?"
"I'm an agent," he says. "But, technically, I am still a scout; just not in the terms normally understood."
Quinn thinks it over. "Does this mean I'm essentially hiring you to represent me?"
Owen chuckles. "No, Quinn," he says. "But, you will, one day, when you inevitably go pro."
"Is that a condition for us to do this?"
"No," he's quick to say. "There are no conditions."
Quinn shakes her head. "That isn't how the world works," she says. "There are always conditions."
"Not when it comes to me," he says. Then, because she suddenly looks far too tense, he adds, "Though, if you do spend a little more time considering Cornell, I'm definitely down with that."
Quinn rolls her eyes. "Let me guess: your alma mater?"
He grins at her. "What gave me away?"
Quinn gives him a look. "It's probably the haircut."
Rachel waits for Quinn in the blonde's bedroom. It's the only place Rachel can be sure Quinn will go once she gets back from her dinner with Owen.
During that time, Rachel has allowed herself to go over the events of this morning in startling detail. It was a fight that never should have been, and Rachel can pinpoint the exact moment it turned into one.
It also hasn't helped that the two of them actually haven't discussed anything to do with Eric since the night of the revelation.
Eric.
Rachel glances down at her phone. She received another set of texts from him earlier (when she didn't reply to the morning pair) and the boy is starting to sound more and more desperate.
She reasons that he's bound to figure out that she knows, with the way things are going, which is going to make their relationship even more awkward.
And it also may or may not put Quinn in the line of fire. Eric doesn't know she was listening in, and he'll just assume that Quinn spilled the beans, as it were.
One thing.
Why can't just one thing be easy?
Well, this is.
Rachel gets to her feet the second Quinn's door opens and the blonde steps through. Rachel has her arms around her before Quinn can even register her presence, and they're both a little surprised that the blonde doesn't resist the contact.
Instead, Quinn sinks into the embrace.
"I'm sorry," Rachel murmurs, face pressed into the crook of Quinn's cool neck. "I love you."
This is the easy part: loving Quinn.
Then, there's this:
Quinn pulls back, her expression guarded. "We should probably talk."