Chapter Twenty-Eight

Quinn hears Owen before she sees him, and there's a part of her that's so relieved he's here, she doesn't even know what to do with herself, even if she can't bring herself to open her eyes right now. She doesn't have many adults who actually seem to care about her, and, based on the way he was going crazy on the sidelines, she knows he considers her as more than just a meal ticket.

However that happened, Quinn has no idea.

She remembers hearing his voice on the field, but it's even better to know he's here at the hospital with her. She doesn't think she would be able to handle the news on her potential injury with someone who wouldn't understand just what it would mean if the scans reveal what she and Owen are terrified of them showing.

Sister Henrietta is also with her, filling out forms and telling the hospital nurses her brief medical history. Rachel and Kurt are still at school, and Quinn is almost relieved by that, because she has enough of her own emotions with which to deal without adding on that pool of anger and worry. She's pretty sure Rachel was ready to march to Capitol Hill with a petition of some sort.

Owen is here, though, and it helps, even if all he did for the first hour was yell into his phone about something or the other. Quinn couldn't really pay attention beyond the painkillers and the worry over what type of injury she might have sustained.

If she closes her eyes, she can still feel the metal studs of the one defender's boot scraping along the outside of her leg, tearing at her sock and skin, as well as the impact of the other defender's boot against the inside of her ankle, which resulted in a nasty ankle-roll.

If she opens her eyes, all she sees is her swollen ankle, just staring back at her.

Haunting her.

She needs just one thing to work in her favour, right now.

"The good news is nothing is broken," Dr Evan Cathcart eventually concludes, entering the examination room with a steady smile on his face, a folder tucked under his arm and Owen following closely behind. "X-Ray is clean, and so is the MRI."

Quinn lets out a long sigh in relief.

"As I suspected, you've just rolled your ankle," he says. "We're dealing with a run-of-the-mill sprain, and that accounts for the swelling and the pain, but it should subside with some rest. You'll be out for the rest of this week, minimum, but you should be able to resume light training next week."

Quinn tilts her head back and stares up at the ceiling, her body desperate to sigh in relief, which she's actively holding back from doing. Her heart is beating way too fast, but she's surprisingly calm.

Dr Cathcart gives her a moment, and then says, "I'll need to clean up and bandage the wound here, but you should be able to walk right on out of here once we're done."

Quinn just hums, keeping her eyes closed.

"Of course, you'll need to keep icing the ankle," the doctor continues. "Keep your weight off it. I saw you already arrived with crutches, so that should do, just until the swelling goes down."

She just nods, unsure what she's supposed to say. She's lucky. The fact that it's nothing more serious is just pure, dumb luck. Maybe, if her leg had been at a different angle, or more force was applied; they could have been having an entirely different conversation.

Well.

Quinn is trying not to pay too much attention to that.

Instead, she's made aware of movement near her leg, and then a gentle presence at her right side.

"You okay, Kid?" Owen asks, his tone surprisingly soft - compared to the vitriol he was spewing earlier. "Had me worried for a second there. How am I supposed to protect you if - " he stops suddenly, and there's a low growling sound.

Oh, there it is.

"All of them. I'm going to have all their jobs and, fuck, I'll blacklist all those little punks. No college is going to take them. Just you wait. They'll regret ever even touching you."

Quinn peeks at him through one eye, unsurprised to find him flushed and furious, a heavy crease in his brow. She's quite certain he's aged just in this night, right before her eyes.

"Hey, Cornell," she calls softly, wincing when Dr Cathcart gets started on her leg. She absently wonders why he's bothering doing it himself, but she has a sneaking suspicion Owen has something to do with it. This way, she'll probably end up with as little scarring as possible, and she'll definitely take all she can get. She has enough of them to last a lifetime.

Owen looks at her, still miffed.

"I already have a spitfire in Rachel," she says, smiling fondly at the mention of her girlfriend. "Do you think you could get me some water, please?"

"To put out my fire?"

She grins at him. "You said it."

"I did," he says, nodding, and then quietly leaves the room.

Quinn inhales deeply, and then releases the breath slowly. She lifts her head slightly to see what Dr Cathcart is doing. It's not a pretty sight, but it doesn't hurt. At all. Quinn can't tell if it's because she's numbed from the painkillers or because she's just used to pain.

Huh.

Sister Henrietta comes in before Owen gets back, with a heavy frown on her face. She looks particularly angry about something, if Quinn is honest, and she wonders what could possibly be bothering the normally-unflappable woman.

Quinn gets her answer moments later.

"There's some press outside," Nurse Henrietta says, looking concerned. "They can't actually enter the hospital and they won't be allowed on school property, but - " she stops, and then zeroes in on Dr Cathcart. "How does one leave here without anyone knowing?"

The man blinks, almost shrivelling under her intent gaze. "Well, I'm sure they've already covered the back of the hospital," he says. "The ambulance bay is an option. Or the morgue."

Quinn shudders at the thought, but, once she's been given the all clear, that's how they leave the hospital. Owen goes out the front as some kind of distraction, and Quinn reasons she's going to be receiving a call from him very soon.

It's quite late when they make it back to Dalton, and Quinn hobbles into her room to dump her things before she intends to cross the corridor to see Rachel to try to assure her and to seek some comfort.

Well, that's the plan, anyway, but it falls through because Rachel comes to her before she even has time to set her bag on the floor. She hears the sound of the door clicking shut and the lock engaging behind her, and she turns slowly, unsure what she's going to find.

Rachel's gaze is actually on her bandaged leg, and Quinn can read the worry as clear as day.

"I'm fine," she immediately says, and then cringes. "I mean, I'm not fine, but my leg is. It's not broken or anything, just sprained, and all my ligaments are still intact, so that's a yay. It really looks worse than it actually is." She offers an awkward little cheer, as if she were some kind of cheerleader in another life, and the action seems to prompt Rachel into action.

Rachel crosses the room quickly and throws her arms around her, hugging her so tightly that Quinn would probably complain if she weren't already hopped up on some pain medication. There's a hint of desperation in the way Rachel clutches at her, and Quinn does her best to match her.

Eventually, the hug loosens, but Rachel doesn't release her. She keeps her face buried in Quinn's neck and whispers, "Are you really okay?"

Rachel's asking a question not related to her injury, Quinn knows, and she's not sure how she's supposed to answer that.

Quinn breathes out, a little shaky. "It was a surprise to me," she finally says. "I didn't even know he was going to be making an announcement. I mean, Tori alluded to it over Winter Break, but I didn't think he would choose now to do it."

Rachel just holds her tighter, and Quinn is suddenly grateful they're not looking at each other.

"I've - I've never really had to be involved in any of the previous campaigns - not since they shipped me off to boarding school - and I highly doubt I will for this one," Quinn explains, her voice quiet. "I've always just been the daughter they send to some of the best private schools in the country; the one they try to pass off as giving her best chance at a life they want for all of America's children."

Rachel doesn't budge.

"Did - did you watch the announcement?"

Rachel deflates slightly, which is answer enough. "Connecticut is supposed to be a progressive state," is what she ends up saying. "It's like he wants to undo all the strides we've taken."

"He's a racist homophobe," Quinn says, her tone flat. "And, yet, there will be people who will vote for him."

"I just hate that the things he says and does are going to affect you," Rachel says, sounding morose. "I don't want him to be able to hurt you when he can't even touch you."

Quinn blinks. "Are you talking about the soccer game?" she asks. "Because, you know, I can handle that. I can handle other people. It's - it's just them that…" she trails off. "I'm not strong enough for them."

Rachel pulls back just enough to meet her gaze. "Quinn, you are the strongest person I know. Hands down."

"You do know you exist, right?" Quinn deflects, blushing slightly. She yawns a moment later, and then chuckles softly. "Sorry."

Rachel kisses her pink cheek. "I saved you some dinner," she says. "Why don't we get you in the shower, into some pyjamas, get some food in you, and then you can get some sleep?"

Quinn agrees, almost absentmindedly. She allows Rachel to lead her through all those things, letting the brunette dote on her in all the ways Quinn was starved of as a child.

An hour later, Quinn is safely curled up in her bed, warm and peaceful as she drifts to sleep.

Rachel watches over her until it's almost bedtime. She presses a kiss to Quinn's forehead, slips out of her bed, puts on her shoes and then leaves as quietly as possible, switching off the light.

Tonight is just a night.

There's tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. Whatever comes their way, though, she's determined to get through it all. Together.

It's really all she has to offer at this point.

If there's more of a backlash to Russell's announcement, Quinn doesn't really feel it within the walls of Dalton. She's generally protected here. She's just Quinn here, and people love and respect her in a way that's separate to their feelings regarding her father.

It's difficult for them to imagine she holds the same ideals as him when her best friends are a Jewish girl and a gay boy. Seriously.

Still, there is a lot to come out of the game and, while Quinn is recovering from her injuries, she's left with a few very important decisions she has to make.

Starting with Owen.

Quinn receives a call from him on Friday evening, while she's lying on her back on her bed, trying to relax for the first time in what feels like forever. It's enforced, of course, and Rachel threatened her with withholding make-out sessions if she didn't use the time to rest.

It goes against her nature in so many ways, but she's willing to try.

So, it's really a relief when her phone rings and Owen's contact comes up. She thinks he has news about whatever action he's decided to take regarding the events of the game, but he surprises her by avoiding that completely and leading with:

"Quinn," Owen says, and he sounds very serious. "They want you."

Quinn relaxes into her mattress, even though her brow furrows in confusion. "You're going to have to be a little more specific, Cornell."

"Team USA," he says. "It's the FIFA Women's U20 World Cup this summer, and they want you, Quinn." He pauses. "Well, if we're going to be honest here, they've always wanted you, but this is the first time you've actually shown an interest in pursuing this as a potential career. So, what do you say?"

Quinn breathes out slowly, forcing herself not to be overwhelmed. "Just like that?"

"Well, no," he says, always so truthful. "There's a training camp first, and then they pick the final squad from the group of hopefuls. You'll have to work for it, obviously, but you're definitely one they've been keeping an eye on. You have the potential to go all the way."

"Why now?"

"I told you I'm going to get you out," he says, and his tone is sombre. Solemn in a way she wishes it didn't have to be. But, it's something she expects since her father's announcement. There's been quite the reaction, and the polls are… going haywire.

"This is how I'm going to do it," Owen says. "You're going to be so free and independent and powerful; he won't even be able to think about you and not burn."

"I think I would be terrified of you, if you weren't on my side."

"I think Kurt said the same thing the other night."

"He's a smart guy," Quinn says. She closes her eyes for a moment. "Do they really want me?"

"Almost desperately," he says. "You're good, Kid. I know you know that, so I'm thinking it's time to show the world, huh? What do you say?"

Quinn takes a moment to wonder about the implications of something like this. In a few weeks, she'll be free of her parents and she'll be able to take on the world. Why not start now?

"Quinn?"

She clears her throat. "Yes," she says. "Okay. Yes."

"Good."

"What do I have to do?"

"There's some paperwork we'll have to go over," he says. "Seeing as you're out of commission this weekend, how's about I take you and Rachel out for a meal tomorrow, huh? I'm sure the food they're feeding you there is subpar."

"Owen, I attend one of the best private boarding schools in the country," she says.

He remains silent.

Quinn chuckles. "You're right," she concedes. "The food is sometimes complete shit."

"Rachel."

If Rachel can hear something very specific in Kurt's tone of voice, she doesn't visibly react to it. The last few days have been a lot to deal with, and there's a level of expectancy in the way Kurt says her name.

"Can I ask you something?" Kurt ventures.

Taking a moment to gather herself, Rachel looks up from her English essay and meets his gaze as steadily as she can manage. They're not usually alone, just the two of them, and she has a fleeting thought that he might have designed it that way.

There's no Blaine, and there's no Quinn.

Just them.

Alone in the library.

Somewhat specifically to have this conversation.

"What is it, Kurt?"

He shifts uncomfortably, which isn't an action she would normally associate with him. "It's just - well - " he pauses. "I noticed something. At the game."

She waits patiently, expectedly.

"To be honest, I've been noticing things for longer than that, but this was one of those I can't ignore it anymore things, you know?" He breathes out. "Do - do you like Quinn?"

Rachel expects the question, obviously, but having it out there still catches her off guard and her eyes widen in response.

Kurt immediately tries to backtrack, suddenly feeling as if he's crossed some kind of boundary. "Oh, God, I shouldn't have - "

"Yes."

They both freeze.

Kurt blinks. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed."

He shifts in his seat, suddenly unsure how this conversation is supposed to go. He hadn't really planned for what would happen if Rachel actually answered his question, whether it was affirmative or not. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Rachel's brow furrows. "Uhm, yes," she says. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he says, sounding slightly exasperated. "You just said you like Quinn and, I mean, if the way you were acting at the game the other day is anything to go on, it seems… serious, and I just don't want you to get hurt."

Rachel just stares at him. "Why would I get hurt?"

Kurt sighs. "Believe me, Rachel, unrequited feelings are some of the worst."

Rachel tilts her head to the side, suddenly relieved that she and Quinn finally decided to tell their mutual friend about their relationship. After the game, it just seemed like the next thing to do. The more people they have in their corner, the better.

They might have a hefty fight coming up.

"I wouldn't really call it that… In the sense you're using it; 'unrequited' implies Quinn isn't aware of my feelings," Rachel says matter-of-factly, and Kurt almost chokes on nothing.

Air, maybe.

"What?"

"I can assure you that Quinn is very aware that I'm in love with her."

Kurt practically sputters now. "You're in - " he starts and stops, his eyes as wide as saucers.

Rachel's smile is entirely too innocent. "I am," she confirms serenely, as if it's the easiest, simplest thing in the world.

Which, really, at this point in her life, it is.

Kurt grabs onto her forearm, squeezing tightly. "Rachel, Rachel, wait, what?"

"I'm in love with Quinn," Rachel says. "Isn't that what you're asking me?"

"Uh, yes?"

Rachel is probably getting far too much satisfaction out of this than she should, but she can't bring herself to end it. His facial expression is priceless, and she really wishes she could snap a picture of him in this moment.

He just continues to sputter, clearly caught off guard by her revelation.

Rachel just offers him one more smile, and then returns her attention to the work in front of her. There's really nothing more she can reveal until Quinn and Kurt have their own little talk. So, she's just going to enjoy this little moment and hope that Quinn gets as much joy messing with Kurt as she does.

Quinn definitely does.

Kurt barely wastes any time after his confusing conversation with Rachel to track down the blonde and stumble through his own questions that Quinn purposefully pretends not to understand.

She almost feels sorry for him, but she really intends for him to come out and actually ask her.

"Wait," Kurt finally says, holding up a hand and sighing. "What I'm getting out of this is that you know how Rachel feels about you, correct?"

Quinn nods, carefully avoiding his gaze as they sit together on one of the couches in the recreation room. There's a group of students around one of the televisions, watching some kind of reality show, and there's another group involved in a rather heated game of Charades.

Quinn and Kurt are mostly ignored by the entire lot of them.

"And - and you're just okay with it?" Kurt asks, looking perplexed.

Quinn glances at him. "Why wouldn't I be?" she asks.

Kurt looks stumped for a moment, and Quinn suddenly just gets what Rachel was talking about. The look is priceless. She really needs to take a picture of it, if only to show him. And Blaine. And the rest of the world, really. She would be doing them a huge disservice if she didn't.

"I don't have a problem with it at all," Quinn finally says, taking pity on him. "I think it's a given by now that I am a LGBT supporter. Do I not come across that way?"

Kurt blinks. "What? No, of course you do," he says. "You're the one who suggested we start an Equality Club, which, okay, may have been rooted in promoting women's rights, but it's turned into this movement for tolerance and understanding. I'll admit, when we first started to be friends, I worried a little bit, but I know better now. Still, Quinn, this is a little different to that, don't you think?"

Quinn shrugs, feeling a stab in her chest that Kurt once thought her unsympathetic. Before her run for Head Student, she was very closed-off, hidden behind the kind of façade that made her appear unapproachable, but that had to change if she wanted to win the election.

Then she did, and she's finally embracing the person she's always wanted to be, her parents be damned.

Kurt purses his lips, looking a little torn. "Thank you," he finally says.

Quinn frowns in confusion. "For what?"

"Not being weird about it," he says. "I can't even tell you what it's like to have a crush on a straight person, and then have them find out, and then want absolutely nothing to do with you."

And, okay, now Quinn feels bad. Shit.

"Kurt," she says, placing a hand on his arm. "I'm not really sure if I should be praised for something like that." In truth, she can't be sure what she would have done had she been straight. She doubts Rachel would have told her, mainly because Quinn wouldn't have given off whatever 'acceptable' vibe she apparently was.

"No, you should," Kurt insists.

She shakes her head, smiling softly. "I'm sorry, you know?"

"For what?"

"Not telling you sooner."

"Not telling me what?"

Quinn meets his gaze for a moment, and then sighs. "Do you think, maybe, we can continue this conversation in your room?" she asks. "Too many ears around here."

If Kurt can sense the severity in her tone, he doesn't mention it. He just nods, and then gets to his feet with the intention of leading her towards his bedroom. He's not entirely sure what he's expecting her to tell him, but he's trying not to think about it too hard.

As expected, Quinn sprawls across his carpeted floor once they're inside, and he closes the door behind them, silently contemplating where he should sit for this. His bed, his chair or also the floor.

To be safe, he chooses the chair at his desk and spins to face her, quiet and patient.

Quinn sits upright eventually, and then sighs. "I'm not some kind of saint, Kurt," she says. "I grew up on the notion that homosexuality is wrong, punishable, and those people who commit such acts are some of the most deplorable." She blinks. "But, then, I also grew up in a family where I haven't experienced any love and, when I went to boarding school, whatever I was supposed to learn from them, I just didn't.

"I've had a plan for a while," she says. "Since I first figured it out. I was supposed to wait until I was old enough, to accept and pursue it, but then Rachel told me she loved me and she was just freaking out about it in that adorable way she does, and, God, I was so relieved."

Kurt stares, dumbfounded.

"The reason why I'm so okay with Rachel being in love with me is because I'm in love with her too, Kurt," she says, her tone careful. "We've been dating since we got back from Thanksgiving Break."

Kurt blinks. Wait. What?

"We didn't want anyone to know," she continues. "Even some embers of Rachel's family don't know for certain. The backlash of my father ever finding out will be… immense, and Rachel has her own reasons for her secrecy." She audibly swallows. "But, well, we're planning for a future together, possibly in the New York area, and that includes you, Kurt, and this is something I want you to know about me." Her smile is a little sheepish. "I'm gay. Like, super duper gay, and, while it might be the single worst thing to happen to me; Rachel is the best."

Kurt doesn't say anything for the longest time, and then he very carefully asks, "So, you and Rachel are together? Like, an actual couple?"

Quinn nods.

"Whoa."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Are you actually that surprised?" she asks, genuinely curious.

He sighs. "I don't know," he admits. "Maybe not about Rachel, but you've been entirely unassuming the majority of our friendship."

Quinn presses her lips together, unsure how to feel about that. It's always been by design, of course, but she doesn't want that for herself anymore. She wants the people in her life to know her.

Kurt clears his throat. "How long have you known?" he asks.

"That I'm gay?"

Kurt lets out a breath, finding it odd that Quinn is actually as comfortable as she is merely admitting it. For some reason, he thought she would have internalised her struggle, but there's this steady level of acceptance in her eyes that's somewhat surprising. "Yes."

"Since Sam," she answers, easily. "It didn't… feel right with him, and I figured it out rather quickly after that," she explains, growing slightly pensive. "Rachel isn't really a fan of how I did that, and, looking back, it probably wasn't the healthiest way to go about it, but it helped me."

There's a story there, he's sure, but he doesn't think he's going to hear it today. "Why now?" he asks.

Quinn pauses, giving it a bit of thought. "I'm almost eighteen," she finally says. "I guess, after that, they won't have any power over me." She says the words, even though she's not sure she believes them. The elusive they have the words, she knows, to trigger her kill switch, and she just needs to, well, avoid them.

At all costs.

She sighs. "It's also a little exhausting having to keep it from you, and Rachel wants our close friends to know, and I do too, I guess." She meets his gaze. "Besides Rachel, you're the closest friend I have, Kurt, and I want you to know me. One day, I won't have to hide whom I am, and I'm hoping you'll be one of those people who will accept me wholeheartedly."

Kurt can't stop his smile, because she's kind of an idiot, sometimes. "Of course, Quinn."

She smiles at him for a moment, and then sobers. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for Blaine to know, though," she confesses. "I know Rachel is planning on telling Brittany, possibly Santana, and that's already raising my anxiety through the roof."

Kurt thinks he understands that. "Okay," he says.

"And, plus, the guy still hasn't noticed what a catch you are, so he can be left in the dark a little while longer, I reckon."

Kurt can't stop his laugh. "Quinn, that's terrible."

She just shrugs, clearly unapologetic. "It's true, though," she says.

Kurt just rolls his eyes, spends a moment thinking about it, and then really laughs out loud.

"What?" Quinn asks, surprised by his outburst.

"The boy is going to keel over and die when he realises you're actually serious about his firstborn."

And, when Quinn laughs with him, he allows himself to think that maybe everything is going to turn out okay.

With the go-ahead to start telling their friends about their relationship, Rachel jumps at the chance to confirm what she's sure Brittany already knows. It's easy to find the blonde in her bedroom, lying on her bed, with Santana wrapped around her.

Perfect.

Rachel steps into the room, closes the door behind her and simply says, "I'm in love with Quinn."

Neither girl even reacts.

"We already know this," Santana says, bored.

Brittany turns her head, her eyes a little wide. "You're in love with Quinn," she echoes.

Rachel just smiles at her.

"Oh."

Rachel's smile grows impossibly wide. "Yip."

Santana looks between them. "What?" she asks. "Wait, what's happening?"

Rachel doesn't answer her. She just keeps her eyes on Brittany, confirming in silence. This moment is for her blonde friend, anyway.

"Seriously?" Santana asks, still looking completely lost. "What is happening right now?"

Rachel just laughs, feeling lighter in some crazy, ridiculous way. "I'm not going to be at dinner tonight," she says. "I'm going out."

"With?" Brittany asks, ignoring Santana's confusion. She'll consider explaining later. Maybe let the Latina earn it in some way.

"Owen and Quinn," she says. "Soccer stuff."

Brittany sits up, at the same time Santana lets out a frustrated huff. "Is she okay?" she asks. "Her leg, I mean."

"Oh," Rachel says, almost rolling her eyes. "She's fine. More irritated and a little grumpy because she can't train, but she should be back at it in a few days."

"Something happened at that game, didn't it?"

Rachel licks her lips. "Her father's running for president," she says. "Everything's just got infinitely harder for everyone involved."

Brittany nods. "Let us know if you need anything, okay?"

Rachel blows her a kiss in gratitude, and then slips out of the room, laughing at Santana's persistent questions. She wonders what Brittany will end up telling her. If she ends up telling her anything at all.

She feels lighter, somehow, knowing that at least Brittany and Kurt are truly aware of her relationship with Quinn. The two of them will be able to help Rachel protect her.

"I'm just going to come out and say it," Owen says once they've ordered their food; "we're definitely going to be talking a lot of shop." He more or less says the words to Rachel, who's really just along for the free meal.

"Okay," Rachel says, smiling in understanding. "Got it."

She doesn't, really, she comes to learn some fifty minutes later. She manages to follow in the beginning when Owen brings up colleges and training for the National Team.

Then he goes on about the Olympics, which, okay, wow, and Rachel somehow loses them around preparing a written confirmation for when the college offers start officially coming in.

Instead, she just keeps her eyes on Quinn, whose eyes are alight with a certain excitement Rachel rarely sees.

Rachel is so in love with her. God. It's actually ridiculous how much she adores this girl. She would follow her anywhere, she suddenly thinks, and that's terrifying, because she's had her heart set on New York for forever.

But, she would go wherever she gets to be with Quinn, because she can't imagine life without her. Even being with her but being separated isn't something Rachel is willing to entertain.

If Quinn won't follow her, perhaps she'll have to follow Quinn.

No.

Quinn won't let her and, even if she did, Rachel doesn't think they'll survive the pressure and expectation. Quinn is at least right about all of that. She knows herself, and she knows Rachel.

They wouldn't make it, otherwise.

So, Rachel just watches Quinn, imagining their lives in the future together. When they're older and free and living their lives the way they're supposed to be lived. Quinn doing whatever she decides is her passion, and Rachel taking Broadway by storm.

Their lives, in New York, living together in a tiny apartment, fighting over the little things and loving each other so fiercely that nothing the world throws at them will even matter.

They're going to make it work, she's suddenly certain. Somehow, they're going to figure it all out. If Quinn wants to be an international soccer star, then Rachel will support her. If she wants to be an artist, Rachel will be right there. Law, Medicine, whatever she wants.

She knows Quinn is going to do the same for her.

"Rach?"

She snaps to attention at the sound of Quinn's voice. "Hmm?"

Quinn smiles all too knowingly. "I was just telling Owen about our plans for Spring Break," she says. "He said he's also going to be in New York meeting athletes and coaches, so he's going to schedule sit-downs at Princeton, Columbia and NYU."

Rachel looks at Owen, who's smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry to hijack your college tour," he says.

Rachel won't begrudge him this, because he's helping her in ways he'll never quite know or understand. So she smiles. "That's okay," she says. "As long as it won't take up too much time."

"Princeton might be a full day trip," Owen says, wincing slightly. "I think they're going to be pulling out all the stops for this one here."

Quinn rolls her eyes, waving him off, but her cheeks are tinted pink, and Rachel can only hope Owen isn't selling them unrealistic dreams.

Rachel doesn't think either she or Quinn would survive the heartbreak of such a thing.

"Of course, you're welcome to join us," Owen says.

Rachel shakes her head. "If it's just going to be more shop talk, I think I'll stay home," she says. Because they're probably going to be staying with her mother, if she and Shelby can find a way to get through a conversation without fighting.

Maybe they should just stay in a hotel.

Sure.

That will definitely go down well.

Quinn squeezes her thigh under the table for a moment, and then resumes eating her steak. Rachel's not sure if she's been eating while she's been staring at her girlfriend, so it's a surprise when she's already halfway through her pasta.

Shop talk ends fifteen minutes later, and Owen does the thing and asks Rachel about her singing and her own plans for the future. She's a little nervous to tell him, given she hasn't really talked to Quinn about it.

Still, she says, "I'm seriously considering Tisch."

Quinn turns to look at her, frowning slightly.

"They have a brilliant program," Rachel continues. "I think it would be a good fit."

Owen nods. "New York, huh?"

Rachel smiles. "That's always been the plan," she tells him. "I've known I was always going to go back there for college since I went to live with my father."

"Can't sway you, huh?"

Rachel glances at Quinn for a moment. "Nope," she finally says. "New York is it for me."

Owen looks between the two of them for a few moments, as if he's trying to make a decision about them. Eventually, he nods his head. "I guess New York it is, then." He pauses. "Well, New Jersey, I suppose."

Quinn shakes her head. "Nobody's decided anything yet."

Owen grins at them both. "You keep telling yourselves that."

While Rachel expects Quinn to ask her about her decision to remove NYADA from her potential school choices, the blonde doesn't.

Well, not immediately.

Rachel thinks Quinn is giving her the opportunity to bring it up in her own time, and she's just been unable to do it. She will, of course, once she can wrap her head around the fact she's willing to pass on her dream school because her mother happens to be dating one of the students in attendance.

Jesus.

That's definitely not something she could have ever envisioned happening in her young life.

Well, there are a lot of things that have happened already that she definitely didn't see coming. The list is almost too long even to think about.

All she knows is Quinn is on it.

Somewhere near the top.

Where she'll remain.

Quinn makes a card for Rachel for their two monthiversary.

She draws a picture of them both, laughing at something or the other, and, even though it's not a compromising position, Rachel still blushes.

There's just something about the way Quinn draws her that makes Rachel feel as if the great big world is so small compared to her. The way Quinn sees her is this amazing thing that she just wouldn't be able to explain to anyone else. It makes her heart beat faster and her palms sweat.

She is so in love; she barely knows what to do with herself.

What's worse - or better, depending on how one looks at it - is that Rachel can feel it growing with every day that passes. She falls more and more in love with Quinn every moment they spend together, and she wonders if anything about that is actually normal.

Well, it's normal for them, anyway.

This out-of-this-world feeling has been following Rachel since before they even started dating. She's been so lost in everything Quinn for so long that she can't even remember a time when the blonde girl wasn't her entire world.

And, really, that's what she is. Rachel can barely imagine a life without her now, and she really wouldn't ever want to. She and Quinn are going to be together forever, if Rachel has anything to say about it.

Which is really why Rachel makes the conscious decision that she and Quinn are going to further explore their physical relationship.

The decision is a little terrifying, but Quinn makes it easy. Rachel thinks it's because the blonde is so unaware, watching her so intently as she studies the card and swoons over the - grossly expensive - sweater Quinn bought for her.

Rachel feels a little strange realising she's willing to offer parts of her body as Quinn's gift in exchange. It makes her uncomfortable, the more she thinks about it, so she tries not to.

It isn't as if Quinn is asking anything of her, and that makes all the difference. All Quinn wants is love, though she never says so. Still, Rachel is willing to give, which is why she leans across Quinn's bed and kisses already-waiting lips.

"Thank you," she says when she pulls away.

Quinn shrugs, blushing slightly. "It's nothing," she says. "Just wanted to do something, I guess."

Rachel smiles warmly at her. "Can I take you out this weekend?"

"Of course," Quinn says. "You can take me out whenever you want."

Rachel rolls her eyes, because that's not even remotely true. Quinn's schedule is difficult to work around, and Rachel spends most of her time alone in Quinn's room or sitting on Quinn's bed and watching the girl work at her desk.

"You can," Quinn insists. "Just, you know, not when it clashes with my schedule."

Rachel just kisses her again. "This weekend."

"This weekend," Quinn confirms.

It's both difficult and not to wait until the weekend. Rachel plans a date that won't look like too much of a date, and she feels almost giddy about it. It helps that Quinn is also keen, smiling secret smiles and stealing touches whenever they're alone.

It feels… good.

It feels great, actually, and she has to try very hard not to give herself away. Give them away.

So, Rachel very patiently waits until the weekend, and it pays off in the best way, because Quinn is currently riding the high of finally being back on the pitch, having scored another hat trick and maintained the Griffins' unbeaten record.

It just so happens that Rachel finds her the most attractive when she's like this, her eyes and smile wide, her affection open and her attention focused on Rachel and only Rachel.

As a result, their non-date is really a challenge not to launch herself across the table and devour Quinn right in front of everyone.

If Quinn senses her impatience - possibly even her undisguised want, because she's honest-to-God lusting over her very gorgeous girlfriend who's sitting right in front of her - she doesn't mention it. She does, however, eat a little faster than she usually does, and Rachel loves her all the more for it.

Getting them to Quinn's bedroom and safely behind a locked door is really where Rachel's excessive planning ends, so she's a little lost as to what to do once she has Quinn sprawled out on her own bed and looking at her expectantly. She just stands there, staring, and trying to figure out what her next move is going to be.

"Hey," Quinn says, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Hey," Rachel says in return, feeling her nerves begin to dissipate. Still, she stands perfectly still as she watches Quinn slowly get to her feet again, as if she can sense she's going to have to take control of this foreign situation.

"Come here," Quinn says, her smile soft.

Rachel doesn't even hesitate, taking steady steps forward to meet Quinn in the middle of her carpet.

It's natural, the way it happens.

Rachel doesn't fight it when Quinn's fingers trail along her upper arm, cup her elbow and draw her closer. The non-existent protest dies on her lips when Quinn's press against them.

And, then, all good sense is lost to the world.

Quinn truly is a phenomenal kisser. It's one thing to feel Quinn's mouth against her own, but Rachel almost forgets her own name when said mouth moves along other parts of her body.

Quinn has this fascination with Rachel's neck, her teeth nipping and her tongue licking at the soft skin as she marvels at the heat and taste. It's the same wonderment Rachel experiences when it comes to Quinn's hair.

It's just so soft, and it smells like perfection. Some kind of mixture between almonds and some type of flowers… maybe gardenias. It really just makes Rachel almost want to crawl into Quinn's skin and just bury herself there.

Which, okay, sounds completely creepy now that she thinks about it.

This kiss is different, though.

It's leading somewhere, Rachel can tell, and she's not afraid of it. She trusts Quinn. She trusts her the most in this moment, when her hands are roaming, her pressure firm but not too forceful.

It's leading to… this.

Quinn lifts Rachel off the ground, and the brunette's legs automatically wrap around her slim waist. She's always marvelled at Quinn's strength, and she doesn't even worry that Quinn can't support her weight.

Quinn wouldn't risk hurting her.

She's gentle as she sets Rachel on the bed, nuzzling her cheek to get her to shift upwards. She follows immediately, impatient to kiss that delectable mouth again.

Rachel grips the front of Quinn's shirt to pull her up with her, and she lets out a sigh of content when Quinn settles some of her weight on her.

Rachel always marvels at the way she's been in love with Quinn for much longer than either of them really knows. Much longer than they've been together, officially or not.

Quinn's kiss is slow, steady, as her tongue explores every crevice of Rachel's mouth. Rachel feels warm under Quinn's body, and she has the sudden urge to take off her clothes.

Quinn seems to have the same thought, because her fingers reach for the hem of Rachel's shirt, pausing to ask if she's okay.

Rachel nods her head, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

Quinn kisses her jaw, and then down the column of her throat as pale hands lift the fabric of Rachel's shirt upwards. They have to disengage to get rid of it - it ends up on the floor somewhere - and Rachel barely gets a breath in before Quinn is back to kissing her.

It's when Quinn nibbles on her bottom lip that Rachel knows for sure they're going to go further than they've ever gone today. It's not anything she's voiced out loud, but Quinn must sense it, if the way she touches and kisses with such a reverence is anything to go on.

Their clothes get removed slowly. There's no rush, and Quinn's shirt joins Rachel's on the floor. Their bras follow moments later, and then Quinn's hands are massaging her breasts, and Rachel just knows.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks, and she barely waits for Rachel's nod before she's licking and sucking and nipping her way down Rachel's quivering body.

Rachel's fingers move to Quinn's hair as her body arches at the sensation of warm lips and a slick tongue. "Oh, Quinn," she murmurs, her eyes squeezing shut almost without her consent.

As much as she wants to watch what's happening, it's just too much.

Too much.

Rachel can feel her body reacting to whatever Quinn is doing. She knows it's Quinn. She can feel Quinn, and she tries to force her eyes open so she can see her. She needs to see her.

It's too much.

It's too -

She sucks in a sharp, panicked breath, her hands suddenly freezing in place… and she does the worst thing she could possibly do the second she feels Quinn's stomach shift against her centre.

She screams.

It's involuntary, and she'll kick herself for it later, but a memory of that awful day flashes through her mind, and the sheer fact there's a weight on top of her sets her off.

Before either of them knows it, Quinn has flown across the room, breathing heavily and looking all for the world like she might cry.

She looks completely stricken as she stands there with wide, terrified eyes and her arm thrown across her bare chest.

"Rachel," she squeaks. "Oh, my God. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I thought - " she stops, because she doesn't even know how to finish that sentence, and now she's actually crying, and Rachel can't bring herself to speak.

She's frozen in place.

They both are.

Quinn recovers first, sort of, and she scrambles to throw on her shirt. She makes sure not to approach Rachel as she wipes at her own eyes and tries to get a hold of herself before she makes this worse.

God, could she even make this worse?

What was she thinking?

She's supposed to be better.

Rachel hasn't moved a muscle, and Quinn is helpless.

"Rachel," Quinn tries. "Rachel, please. Please."

Honestly, Quinn has been really worried about something like this happening since the very beginning and, now that it actually has, she's at a loss as to what to do.

She thought, maybe, she would know what to do in the moment, because she's been able to handle everything that's come before, but it's something else entirely when she's the one responsible for landing Rachel in such a terrible flashback.

The guilt is horrible, and she just wants to make it better. She wants to reach out and touch her, comfort her, just something. But, that could just make everything worse, and she just doesn't know.

So, she waits, both of them riding it out in the worst way.

The silence is so loud, and Quinn doesn't want to breathe, in fear of shattering everything they've managed to accomplish. Just for a bit of sexual gratification. God. She's disgusted with herself. She shouldn't have pushed. She should have recognised Rachel wasn't ready. She should have known better.

The self-loathing is seeping into her bones, and she thinks she needs to leave. She has to get away. Rachel needs her to be as far away from her as possible.

But, she can't just go.

She can't just leave Rachel alone and, Jesus, this is her bedroom.

"I'm sorry," she says again. "Baby, I'm so sorry."

It takes another two minutes and forty-three seconds for Rachel to come back to herself, and she emerges from her flashback to a clearly-distraught Quinn and a certain embarrassment she's not sure she'll be able to shake.

Rachel sits up, panting. "Quinn," she says, watching as her blonde girlfriend remains pressed against the wall, as far away from her as possible. "Quinn, baby, what happened?" She thinks she already has an idea, but she's really hoping she's wrong.

She's not.

"Quinn?" Rachel asks again, calming that bit more.

Quinn shakes her head, looking pale and stricken. "I'm sorry," she says, choking on her sobs. "God, I'm so sorry."

Rachel opens her mouth to tell her everything is going to be okay, but, before she can get any words out, Quinn has bolted, slipping out the room so quickly that Rachel barely registers it before the door has slammed shut behind her.