Rose Hill, 1778

Quinn really was trying to focus on her assigned reading this time, but there was just too much noise coming from the outside, and it was just too loud. She couldn't figure out who was screaming or why it was happening, but she knew she had to find out what was going on. It would be her farm to run one day. She should learn how to deal with a crisis. That definitely sounded more important than Gulliver's Travels.

Rachel followed her down the stairs and into the backyard, where they found George and her father arguing. So far, nothing new. But a frown came to Quinn's face when she noticed Malcolm, the overseer, holding Abbie back by her two arms and Dorea's daughter screaming trying to break free from her mother's embrace. She felt her heart racing. The agony the three women carried in their faces made Quinn restless.

"What is going on?" Quinn asked, not really hopeful that they would let her know what was going on. Her father usually told her to get inside whenever something serious happened. He thought he was protecting her. She was sick of it.

"You don't have proof, father!" George shouted, his face bright red from anger. Quinn had never seen him like that. It only made her more curious, knowing that whatever had happened had driven George over his edge. For a second, she wondered if George and Abbie had been together - but she shook her head to herself. He always defended slaves, but he wouldn't go that far. "You can't punish her without knowing if she really did it!"

"George, she isn't even trying to deny it!" Her father scoffed, and Quinn took a step further to stop between the two of them. She couldn't wait anymore. That was enough for her to get some attention. "Quinn, dear, not now!"

"I wanna know what is going on!" Quinn stomped her feet, but it didn't help. Her father looked at her as if she was a small child intruding in the adult's business, and it made her boil inside. The screaming wouldn't stop, and she was more anxious with each second. So she turned to the people she knew couldn't deny her wishes. She walked towards Dorea, with the most serious face she could put on. "Dorea, tell me what is happening right now!"

"Someone said Abbie has been teaching slaves how to read, miss Quinn."

That was all it took. She didn't need to know any more details to figure out which particular slave Abbie had been teaching. With one single look, all her suspicious were confirmed. She met Rachel's eyes and saw them welling up in surprise. Rachel lowered her head to conceal her tears, and Quinn closed her eyes drawing in a sharp breath.

"God dammit, Rachel," she whispered to no one. Quinn liked Abbigail. She was one of the few slaves Quinn remembered from her childhood at the kitchen house. Abbigail had learned how to cook with Mama Minda, and was always around to help taking care of the other children Quinn used to play with. Quinn didn't think it was fair for her to go through any kind of punishments, even though she had broken the rules - because Quinn knew how persuasive Rachel could get. Abbie had never brought them any problems. She knew Rachel must had convinced her. But still, not for a second she thought of turning in Rachel.

Until Rachel did so herself.

"It was me, master," Rachel said, walking to stand between George and Russell with her head up high. Quinn gasped for air. Rachel caught Quinn's father and brother's attention in a way that Quinn never could.

"Rachel," Quinn growled between her teeth, trying to get some sort of eye contact through where she could order Rachel to shut up and stay put by her side. She was trying to come up with a plan to get Abbie out of her punishment, but she couldn't think with all the yelling and it was worse now that Rachel ignored her and flooded her heart with affliction. She tried to grab Rachel by the arm, but Rachel yanked it away. Of course, Rachel never obeyed her when it really mattered.

"What are you saying, girl?" Russell asked, placing one hand on the whip on his hips and furthering the scowl in his face as his other hand reached out to stop Quinn from coming any closer to her slave. Quinn's heart shattered expecting Rachel to come up with an excuse for herself, but knowing she would never.

"I was the only one being taught. I should be punished, not her. She only did so because I forced her. Punish me, not her," said Rachel. She didn't falter once. Quinn felt her legs getting weaker and her eyes bulging out. If she had one shred of Rachel's courage, she would stop all of that in the same minute. She would come between Rachel and her father, and would tell her father she was the one to pick the punishment because it was her slave. But she never had Rachel's courage.

"Bloody girl," Russell groaned, whipping the earth beneath their feet. "Let go of her, Malcolm," her ordered. Abbie fell onto the ground, with tears running down her cheeks and an incessantly shake of head. "Come on," he only moved his head once and Malcolm had already taken Rachel by the arms. Quinn's heart had never beaten so fast. "It's time we teach this girl how things work around here. Watch and learn, Quinn. I assure you, you won't have any more troubles with her after today."

Quinn tried exchanging a glance with George as Malcolm shoved Rachel towards the pole, but George looked even more shocked than she did. A man Quinn had never seen before began ripping off Rachel's clothes, and her breath was caught in surprise and fear. Although Rachel had seen her before, Quinn had never seen Rachel naked - and the simple thought of having so many people watching her without a single cloth covering her body made Quinn's eyes water. She grabbed George's arm for the support she so longingly needed, but he jerked it away.

"Are you really gonna let them do this, Quinn?" he asked, shaking his head and taking one step away from her. He looked disgusted. He couldn't know how Quinn was feeling at the moment. Not even she knew what she was feeling - but it didn't feel good at all. "She's yours, Quinn."

"George, please," she whispered shaking her head - but he moved further away. He wouldn't give her the chance to explain herself, but it wasn't like she knew what to say either.

Quinn felt the ground around her spinning. She closed her eyes and tried to think of a way out of the situation, but Rachel was just impossible. She knew for sure that even if she attempted to change things, Rachel's pride wouldn't let her help. Quinn thought that maybe if she fainted her father would be distracted by it and maybe nothing would happen to Rachel. But then she heard his voice, and had to open her eyes.

"Would you like to count, Quinn?" His eyes shined. She had done it many, many times before. She had seen slaves falling dead onto the ground after more whips than they could take. It would just be one more time. But she couldn't. It was all too different now. She couldn't do empathy until it was shoved in her face and she simply couldn't ignore it anymore. She could never do it again after knowing how it felt. How each whip would sting against Rachel's back. Quinn felt her own scars burning, and her lip trembled between her teeth. "Well?" He asked again.

Quinn just shook her head. Russell frowned, and Quinn saw it in his face. That was it. She had disappointed him. She was supposed to be doing the whipping by her own one day. She shouldn't be running away from it. But she looked from her father's eyes to Rachel's, and she knew which one she had to choose. Rachel's eyes met hers, and she felt a tear slipping away from the corner of her eye. She didn't bother wiping it off. She couldn't keep herself together. She would rather look down than watch it.

"I'm not gonna watch this," said George, with both his hands up, giving up as he walked back to the house. "I'm not gonna be a part of this."

Quinn envied him. He had a choice. He had made out of the island and he didn't have their father's expectations on his back. He could simply walkaway, whereas Quinn knew if she did the same she would lose the little respect she had in that house. George didn't have her responsibilities. But he didn't have Rachel either. He couldn't judge Quinn. He didn't know how hard that was being for her.

Any annoyance Quinn had felt by the fact that other people were seeing Rachel naked quickly vanished with the sound of the first whip. She kept her eyes closed. She didn't wanna see it. But as the whips kept going, Rachel eventually couldn't hold back anymore - and when the first shriek came out of her mouth, Quinn knew she had to stop being a coward. If she couldn't stop her father, the least she could do was to be there for Rachel.

Quinn found Rachel's eyes and locked them. If anything, she hoped her eyes could anchor Rachel. That they would distract her away from the pain. Rachel bit her lip and Quinn mimicked the act. She tried to apologize through her eyes, but she doubted Rachel would notice it. She couldn't understand how the same action that made her so turned on once could make her so turned off as she watched it happen to Rachel. She asked for God's forgiveness for her lack of attitude, but she doubted he would notice her either.

When the first droplet of blood ran down Rachel's neck, Quinn knew she couldn't take it any longer. George was right. Rachel was hers, and no one would get blood out of her. Not while Quinn watched it.

"That's enough," said Quinn, gripping her father's forearm. His eyes grew, and she swallowed hard. The duality inside her head would drive her crazy. She never wanted to disappoint her father, and it cracked her heart to see the regret in his face. But she didn't wanna hurt Rachel. She didn't wanna hurt Rachel. When had that happened?

"Quinn, that's not enough," he tried to explain, as if Quinn had stopped him simply because she didn't understand how things were supposed to go. As if she hadn't watched it before. "That's exactly why she is the way she is, causing trouble everywhere she steps. You are going to easy on her. But don't worry, I'm gonna help you fix this girl," he said, shaking his head and giving one more whip. Rachel screeched in surprise. Quinn gripped harder and moved to stop in front of him. Russell's mouth fell open.

"She's mine, father," said Quinn, savoring the words in her mouth. George had always been right. She was Quinn's, and only Quinn's. If Quinn didn't protect her, no one would. "And I said it's enough."

Quinn had never stood up to her father before. She simply never had to. They had always been on the same team. She had no idea how he could react, but she prayed that his undying love for her wouldn't be forgotten as she stood between him and his orders.

"Be careful, my daughter," said Russel, placing a hand on top of Quinn's and rubbing his thumb against her skin. "If you keep listening to George, you are never gonna be able to run this farm. I'm counting on you, Quinn. You better live up to my expectations."

He left, and Quinn fell down on her knees.

Quinn waited until everyone was asleep. She had defied her father enough for one day - for a whole life time, probably - and she knew she could never count with her mother. Rachel waited in her room, but Quinn didn't even had the courage to take a look at her back. Once she knew she had no chances of getting caught, she knocked on George's door loud enough to wake up him and only him.

"What is it now, Quinn?" He asked with a huff. He was still mad at her. She didn't blame him.

"Come with me," Quinn whispered, grabbing his hand - but he yanked it away, again.

"I'm not precisely in the mood to chat with you right now. I apologize, but if that's all you need I'm heading back to bed," he said, trying to close the door before she stopped him with her feet.

"Rachel. She needs you," Quinn admitted with pleading eyes - but she didn't have to say anything else. No one ever denied Rachel anything. He could be angry at Quinn, but Rachel wasn't the one to blame, and Quinn knew he would help heal her.

Slaves weren't supposed to use the same furniture as their owners, but Quinn didn't even protest when George pulled Rachel to sit on her bed. She had bigger worries on her mind, and she knew George wouldn't judge her for being so permissive. Quinn certainly didn't care either, or else she wouldn't had allowed Rachel to sleep there with her before.

As George excused himself to pull down Rachel's gown, Quinn cringed. She reminded the feeling of having fabric being pulled out of her scars once they were dry, and it hadn't felt good at all. But Rachel stayed put, with her head down as he slowly cleaned the wounds.

"Is it hurting too much?" George asked. Rachel shook her head. "It's only me, Rachel. You can talk to me. I need to know if it hurts too much, alright?" He asked. She nodded. He fumbled around his bag and Quinn gasped when she saw him grabbing a needle.

"What are you gonna do to her?" She asked incredulous. He raised one eyebrow that said more than any words could said. Quinn needed to have defended her earlier, not then. She had to defend Rachel from her father - and perhaps from herself! But never from George.

"I'm gonna give her a few stitches to help the wounds heal faster and cleaner," he explained, before placing his hand on Rachel's arm to grab her attention. "Do you mind, Rachel? It will lower the chances of them getting infected."

"No, sir," she answered in a whisper.

"No, not sir, please!" George chuckled. Quinn tried to do the same, to lighten up the mood, but it just didn't feel natural. The tension from the afternoon was still in her shoulders, and she wasn't sure it was going anywhere anytime soon. "Hold her hand, Quinn."

"What?" Quinn half-yelled in surprise. George sighed again.

"I need her to stay as still as possible. She needs to channel her pain so that she won't move. Let her squeeze your hand, please?"

There was no way Quinn could refuse it after the tone George used, bringing all the guilt of the world to her back. He didn't have to. She would have held Rachel's hand anyway. She had just been caught in surprise by his request. As the needle went in, Quinn felt Rachel's grip on her hand tightening. She tried to rub her thumb against Rachel's palm to comfort her - but she doubted Rachel even felt it, among everything.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," George murmured in a sigh. Quinn thought he was talking about the stitches, but he went on. "I wish there was something I could have done. I really do. You really didn't deserve this. None of you do. And you're the strongest and the bravest for taking all of that quietly. You have no idea of the admiration I have for you."

Quinn gripped Rachel's hand tighter. George had put into words what she felt but could never admit out loud - or to herself. Rachel glanced up at her, and guilt washed over once more. Quinn never knew a mere look could inflict so much pain, but she could read Rachel's eyes too well. Rachel wasn't his to protect and care, and he had done much more than Quinn ever did. And Rachel wouldn't let Quinn forget it.

"Thank you, sir," Rachel said again, out of habit. She blinked a few times, before moving her eyes back to George, and Quinn felt like she could finally breathe again. "It means a lot. You're a wonderful person."

"Quinn feels the same," he continued. Both Rachel and Quinn widened their eyes. Quinn felt her breath getting caught again, but didn't deny it. "She has a hard time with her words, but I know deep in my heart she didn't want this either. I simply can't believe she could." He handed Quinn a small cup with ointment for the wounds, not knowing she already had it. "But she will come along, Rachel. Give her time, and she will come to her senses." Quinn hated that he talked about her as if she wasn't there - but again, she didn't deny it. "Let me know if you need anything else, alright?"

Rachel nodded. Quinn didn't know to which part.

As soon as George left, Rachel motioned to get up from the bed, but was stopped by Quinn's hand on her arm again. Rachel turned around and Quinn instantly pulled her hand back. Something in Rachel's eyes made her hand feel out of place. As if she didn't have permission to touch Rachel after what happened. Quinn had done it before, asking for Rachel to stay. But that night in particular the same action felt way more serious, giving that Quinn didn't have the rush of endorphins from sex pushing her forward.

"Do you want me to apply it?" Quinn asked, holding out the small cup with ointment. Rachel looked down, and something in Quinn's stomach twisted. Perhaps her father was right. Perhaps the defying, fierce Rachel was gone after what she went through. He had fixed Rachel. And all Quinn could do was silently pray that the Rachel she had grown so fond of would come back.

"You don't have to," Rachel murmured back.

Quinn shook her head slowly. She didn't have to. But she felt like she should. As if she owed Rachel that much, after having Rachel do the same for her and especially after not stopping the punishment from happening to Rachel. Before Rachel could get up again, Quinn rubbed one finger at the ointment and started gently spreading a thin layer over Rachel's wounds. Rachel cringed, and Quinn felt the pain in her own back. Rachel flinched, and Quinn wished she could take her pain away. Rachel sighed, and Quinn couldn't do anything but sigh back.

Quinn pulled the covers without saying a word. It was the simplest act, and she realized in surprise she had never done so in her 15 years of life. She had always had a slave making her bed for her. To do so for Rachel felt like the grandest act of surrender. Rachel seemed even more surprised than her and let out a small sad chuckle that Quinn would spend days trying to understand.

"It's okay, miss Quinn," said Rachel, shaking her head. "I'm okay. I can sleep in my own bed."

"No," Quinn ordered firmly. Rachel's eyebrows shot up, and Quinn pulled the covers further to help her slip under. Rachel didn't dare to disobey.

Quinn didn't have endorphins pushing her towards Rachel, but something else did. Something worked like a magnet, and made her lay near Rachel and turn to her side. Something made her eyes catch the image of a vulnerable side of Rachel she had never seen, and something made her never want to blink again. Her brother's words replayed incessantly in her head. He was right. Rachel was there, and Rachel was human, and Rachel was hers. And Quinn was sorry. And it was overwhelming to think about all of it and not be able to say one single word out loud. Her heart felt tight with all the fear of letting Rachel see her vulnerable side.

Quinn leaned forward and kissed Rachel. It was much more dangerous than simply apologizing, but didn't feel as scary. Instead, it felt comforting. And Quinn had no idea what it meant.

A second before their lips met, Rachel shrieked in frighten and Quinn felt her chest heavy. Still, she kissed her, and with every flutter of her tongue she tried to make Rachel see how sorry she was. With every pull of her lip she apologized for not being able to discern and express what she felt. She was gentle and sweet and kissed Rachel in a way she had never kissed before, pouring care with every movement of her lips.

There was no way of Quinn knowing if Rachel understood or felt what she was trying to do, but Rachel kissed her back softly and let out a tiny moan that made Quinn want to melt into the bed and stay there for all eternity.

And that's when Quinn knew what she had to do to make Rachel feel better.

Rachel had touched her twice by then, but she had never touched Rachel back. She had never let Rachel know how grandiose the feeling was.

Without breaking apart from the kiss, Quinn let her hand slip down Rachel's body. She thought of grabbing Rachel's breast in the way, because she liked how it felt when Rachel had done so, but she was afraid of losing the little courage she had if she didn't go all the way all at once. Before she could stop to think about it, or before Rachel could move away, her hand was between Rachel's leg. And it felt cathartic.

She didn't know what she expected exactly, but it was softer than she thought it would be and as her fingers slipped along the folds she felt Rachel squirming on bed. Quinn didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign. She had never done that before. She didn't know if she was doing it right. She brushed her fingers against the coarse hair, and Rachel bit her lip just slightly. Still, she wasn't sure if that's how it was supposed to go. But she kept going, and she felt her fingers getting wetter and Rachel's kiss getting deeper and she figured she probably wasn't all wrong.

Quinn felt more daring once Rachel started moaning inside her mouth without a shame. Her fingers moved faster and her other hand travelled along Rachel's body, caressing every curve, feeling every scar. Rachel's body felt like a book waiting to be read, with a story to tell in every inch of skin, from the missing tip of a thumb to the pink QF embroidered on her skin. Quinn felt the initials of her name with her fingertips, and it was just one more reminder that Rachel was hers.

Rachel was hers, Rachel was there and Rachel crumbled against her fingers with one louder moan that Quinn tried to swallow. Quinn knew fairly well what that meant, and her assumptions were sustained as Rachel buried herself down the mattress. Rachel panted and whimpered and let go of Quinn's lips. If Rachel had opened her eyes in that second, she would have seen the shy smile that was set in Quinn's face when she realized she had made it.

She still wasn't sure if Rachel had understood what she was trying to do, but Rachel fell asleep with her legs tangled with Quinn's and her arm around Quinn's waist - and Quinn hoped that it was enough for Rachel to realize that she was sorry. Rachel slept soundly, but Quinn didn't fall asleep at all, taking care to make sure Rachel wouldn't lay on her back with her wounds against the mattress.

And Quinn liked to think she was responsible for saving Rachel from the pain, even if only a little.