Rose Hill, 1779

Rachel was already wearing the gown the slaves and servants used to work on special nights. The gown was nothing when compared to the splendid gowns Quinn had tried before deciding which one to wear to her birthday night. It was a made in a way that it wouldn't bring any attention to itself, and just blended in in the room. Still, Quinn felt her heart doing a cartwheel inside her chest when she saw Rachel walking in. Rachel was just finishing to fix Quinn's hair do, and the uneasiness inside Quinn grew more with every stroke against her scalp. She hated social obligations, and although she couldn't deny she was looking forward to all the gifts she would get, she couldn't help feeling nervous knowing she would be the center of attention for such a long time.

Once Rachel was done, she carefully placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder and their eyes met through the mirror. Quinn felt her stomach fluttering as she sighed, and flashed Rachel a small nervous smile. For her surprise, Rachel smiled back, and this time Quinn's whole body fluttered. But it was probably just because of how nervous she was. It was gonna be a big party.

"Does it look okay, miss Quinn?" Rachel asked, her other hand fixing up a loose strand of hair onto the up do. Rachel improved her skills everyday, but she had really outdone herself that time. Quinn didn't have the biggest self confidence, but even she could admit she looked beautiful that night.

"It looks great," Quinn replied with a small nod. "Thank you," she whispered. Rachel smiled proudly and squeezed Quinn's shoulder just slightly.

She was ready. It was time. But somehow she didn't have the courage to leave Rachel's eyes and get up. How easy it would be to just ignore everyone that waited for her downstairs, and just lock herself inside the room alone with Rachel and those eyes that never shined brighter. But then, she heard a knock on the door, and jumped in startle.

"Quinn? Can I come in?" She heard George's voice coming from out the door, breathing out in relief. Nothing was happening, but she still felt guilty for the thoughts inside her head.

"Yes," she replied, patting her dress down and exchanging a quick glance with Rachel, who with a simple nod reassured her more than what all the inner workings of her mind had done for the past two hours.

"Good Lord," George exclaimed with a gasp once he saw Quinn. Rachel took a step back with a grin, and Quinn had to shake her head to remind herself she shouldn't be staring at Rachel so much. Not that night, at least. She had to focus. "My sister, you look stunning!"

"Thank you," she whispered back with a small roll of her eyes. She didn't know how to reply to compliments. She hadn't grown up with a lot of them.

"Rachel, do you mind leaving us alone for a second? It won't take too long," said George. Quinn would never get used to how casually he spoke to slaves, but at least it didn't bother her anymore. In fact, she felt good watching their interactions. It made her feel less guilty for all that happened between them. Rachel nodded and moved to leave. Quinn knew Rachel wouldn't ever deny George's wishes.

"Have you eaten?" Quinn asked, stopping Rachel from leaving. "You can go eat if you haven't, while I finish getting ready. I'm not sure you'll have time to eat during the ball."

"Yes, I have, miss Quinn," Rachel replied with a small nod, before silently leaving the room.

"That was unexpected," said George with a chuckle, sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace and tapping on the other one for Quinn to sit down in front of him. She didn't wanna wrinkle her gown by sitting down, but he looked at her in a way that she couldn't say no.

"What was it?" Quinn asked with her eyebrows knit together.

"You asking her that," he answered with a sincere smile. "You have been treating her better. Kinder. That's very good, Quinn."

"Well, she's hurt and wounded," Quinn replied with a shrug, trying to dismiss it. She wasn't sure if she should let George know about the recent epiphanies of her life that lead her to see how important Rachel was for her. Still, she knew he didn't buy her excuse. But he let go of the subject, and that was all she could ask for in that moment.

"I'm proud of you, Quinn," said George. "I don't think I ever said that, and I think you need to hear it because we know more than anyone this household isn't exactly known for praising. You have made your mistakes in life, but then who hasn't, right? Deep down I know you are a wonderful girl who's growing up to be an even more wonderful woman. And I'm glad I'm here to watch it."

"Thank you, George," she replied, batting her eyelashes to stop an annoying tear from slip out of her eyes. "I'm glad you're here too. This house feels less empty with you in it."

"Alright, I think that's it then," George got up and caught Quinn's hand to help her up. She silently thanked him for not taking that any further, because she knew she couldn't stop her tears much longer and ruining all the work Rachel had done in her face was simply out of the question. "Are you ready for the biggest night of your life?"

"Yes," she replied with a giggle.

But in reality, she wasn't. Her hands were sweaty and her stomach was turning around itself in strange knots. She wasn't ready at all. Not until they walked out of the room and she found Rachel waiting for them by the door. She was nervous - but Rachel was there. She doubted it would be the biggest night of her life, but Rachel would be there for her if she needed her. And she would make the most out of her birthday ball.

"Well, finally!" Judy exclaimed as Quinn entered the drawing room, followed by her brother and slave. Judy didn't pay her any compliments - not that Quinn even waited for them. The room was filled with bouquets of all sizes and types, sent by the guests to Quinn. Her mother handed her one of red roses and baby's-breath. Roses didn't bring her any good memories - and besides, it didn't go well with her gown. "Here, you should walk in with this one. It's from Mr. Hurley. He owns the biggest plantation farm in Nevis and I've heard he's taken interest on what he's heard of you. Make sure you give him plenty of attention tonight, he's your best choice, Quinn!"

"I don't think that's a good idea, mother," Quinn frowned with a nervous chuckle. She knew that ball had a purpose, but hearing her mother so avidly throwing her to the arms of a man neither of them knew made her even more uneasy than before. "I want to have a chance to meet all of the bachelors, and I'm afraid they could get the wrong idea if I was holding Mr. Hurley's bouquet. I think it's more appropriated for me to hold father's bouquet," she said, grabbing the one her father had personally given to her a few hours before. George tried to hide a giggle, but just one of their mother's glare was enough to get him quiet.

If they didn't make their entrance soon, one of them would surely give up and turn back to their room. Quinn was afraid it would be her, so she rushed the rest of them and in just a few minutes they were at the top of the stairs. Their guests couldn't see the family, but Quinn could see all of the guests and panicked further. There was just way too many people. Her hand shook so badly that she could see leaves falling from the bouquet - and she had no idea how she would control herself. It felt way too foolish to have a single night determining the destiny of her whole life, and she was terrified of ruining it.

George placed a hand on Quinn's arm and she turned her head towards him. With a gentle smile and a small nudge, he pointed with his head towards the very corner of the ball room - the one spot from where someone could see who was at the top of the stairs. There, she found Rachel looking straight at her and perhaps even more apprehensive than she was. But the second their eyes met, Rachel let go of the lip she was chewing on and smiled. And it was all Quinn needed to gather her courage and walk down.

"Let's go," said Quinn with a shaky breath, taking the first step down the stairs.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Fabrays!"

Their name was applauded and the noise was just too much. Quinn had walked down those stairs her whole life, and had never tripped on any steps - but that night she was just sure she would stumble and fall down. Quinn held tightly onto the gaze she shared with Rachel. If it were only Rachel in that room, Quinn wouldn't be nervous. She just had to pretend no one else was there - which got increasingly more difficult as they reached the bottom of the stairs, when it was finally the time for her presentation to the high society. Still, she could feel Rachel's eyes on her, and it somehow calmed her down.

"Mr. Chattington, my daughter, Quinn Fabray," said Judy shaking hands with an all-too-old man who proceeded to grab her hand and drop a kiss on her knuckles. The kiss was wet and his lips were rough. The mere thought of having those lips on hers made her face twitch in disgust. Quinn almost wiped down her hand by reflex, but contained herself and pretended to have manners.

"It's a delightful pleasure to meet you, miss Quinn," he said.

Quinn simply nod, and they moved on to the next one. There were too many men and women to be introduced to Quinn, which didn't leave time for small-talk, for much of Quinn's relief. By her side, her mother beamed, and Quinn wondered how much of it was true and how much of it was just out of politeness to their guests. Either way, it was the closest she ever saw of her mother being proud of her - as if she could finally be somehow useful to the family. Quinn realized she would rather have her mother not being proud at all.

"Brittany," said Judy with a small bow, before the girl passed on to greet her friend.

"Oh, you look too graceful, Quinn, dear! And your dress is enchanting!" She said, giving Quinn a tight hug. Quinn damned her for putting her gown and hair at risk with such a clumsy move, but it was Brittany. It was just how she was, and Quinn was used to it. She had never been Quinn's favorite, but it felt nice to have at least one person she knew in the room so full of strangers.

After what felt like hours, Quinn had been presented to the last one of their guests. She had been introduced to so many new faces in such a short time, that she couldn't even remember what the so famous Mr. Hurley looked like. Or perhaps the reason she couldn't remember most of the faces had to do with the fact that through all of the presentations Quinn had been more focused on watching Rachel and making sure she wasn't being bothered by any of their guests than paying attention to the actual guests.

She tried not to think about how ironic that was. Especially since Rachel also seemed all too distracted. Not by the amount of guests or amount of noise, but by the many interactions Quinn was sharing with strangers. Quinn saw Rachel's eyebrows furrowing every time a man grabbed her hand, and it made her want to giggle. Quinn found comfort in knowing she wasn't the only one nervous and uncomfortable that night, although for completely different reasons.

Rachel couldn't take her eyes out of Quinn. Granted, in fact she shouldn't, because it was her job to always be on the watch in case Quinn needed her help. But it was different that night. Rachel had been the one to help her get dressed and fixed her hair. She had seen the transformation happening and was responsible for it. So why did she feel so mesmerized by the different Quinn she saw in front of her?

Quinn had been different for a while then. Ever since Rachel had been whipped, Quinn had changed the way she treated her, and it didn't go unnoticed. Rachel thought it was guilt taking over, and tried not to get used to it because she knew fairly well that Quinn could change right back once it was all over. Her wounds hurt like hell, but she couldn't say she wouldn't miss sleeping in the so comfortable bed once she was healed. Being honest, she would miss sleeping by Quinn side regardless of where it was.

She had never had that kind of proximity with someone before, and even being someone as despiteful as Quinn, it was nice being close to another human being. It was nice to feel Quinn's breath against her neck, and to feel the warmth from Quinn's body. It was even nicer when Quinn would think she was asleep and would drop random kisses onto her mouth. Rachel's stomach flipped as the memory crashed with the force of Quinn's eyes on her again. Her eyes wouldn't leave Rachel that night, and Rachel was thankful for that.

Rachel knew Quinn was nervous - she had been restless about the party for a long time. Rachel also knew what the party meant. Entering your 16th year was always a decisive moment of a woman's life. In Quinn's case, it was the time she could be done with her studies if she didn't wish to continue them, and it was the time she was considered old and mature enough to find a husband.

For a slave, it was different - but still a decisive moment. Rachel felt like the second she turned 16, men started noticing her more. Her body hadn't changed, but it was suddenly being more glanced at. She thought perhaps they could sense a change on her after what Quinn and she had done, but dismissed her own thoughts before she drove herself crazy. But the problem was she couldn't dismiss the men around her as easily as her thoughts. She never could.

It came with being a slave. Her life didn't belong to her, and neither did her body. Many had touched her without her consent before, and she soon enough learned to not even protest against them. It never brought her any good. But at the same time she couldn't control what happened to her, she also couldn't control how she felt. And it was terrifying to realize that it had never felt good - until Quinn. Rachel wasn't even keen on kissing when suddenly Quinn became an expert on making her wanting to carve out of her own body with a simple touch of their lips.

Her lips. They were more pink than usual that night, to contrast with her gown. They looked fuller, even though Quinn kept burying her teeth onto them every now and them. As she watched man after man dropping kisses on Quinn's hand, she felt her body heating up in a feeling she couldn't quite describe. Right then, she only wished she could cross the ball room and claim those lips. She wanted to take those lips between hers and kiss Quinn until she was mellow in her arms and had not a worry in her head. Or maybe she could be the one burying her teeth onto Quinn's lips, and make sure that Quinn's only worry was to stay quiet and not to be heard.

But all her thoughts and imagination were put aside when she realized she had been so lost that she didn't even realize the family had finished the presentation and moved away from the bottom of the stairs. Knitting her eyebrows together, Rachel tried to find Quinn through the room, but was unsuccessful. She moved across the so many guests, being careful not to touch them - but she still couldn't find Quinn.

Perhaps Quinn had been so nervous she decided to take a break. It was a plausible guess. Rachel went to the backyard, with every intention of going to the kitchen house and ask the other slaves if they had seen Quinn. But on her way, she felt strong arms grabbing and stopping her.

"How is your back?" Russell asked, through puffs of his cigars. The very same one his mother used to smoke. The very same smell Rachel learned to hate through childhood. The smoke was thick, and Rachel had to suppress her urge to cough.

"It's fine, master," Rachel replied, with her head down. His arms didn't let go of her, and she swallowed dryly.

"Leave your door opened tonight," he whispered, looking around to make sure they were alone in the backyard. She felt his hot breath and the smoke brushing against her cheek, and it made her want to throw up. "I'll pass by to check on your wounds."

Rachel didn't even dare to say no.

Entering your 16th year was always a decisive moment of a woman's life. She hoped she had a better fate than the one so many of her friends had before.

"Dear, Quinn, your dress is simply divine!" Said one of the girls Quinn had just been introduced to, and already had no idea what was her name. Quinn didn't care enough to remember. All the girls surrounding her were just more of the same. The same looks, the same talks, the same goals. It unnerved Quinn. Her whole life she was taught how to act and talk politely to other women, but that night she realized why her mother made sure she received extra lessons on that. She was just too different from the other girls.

"Who did your hair?" Another one asked.

"My slave," Quinn answered nonchalantly, suddenly realizing it had been a while since she had last seen Rachel. She quickly scanned the room and didn't find Rachel anywhere, so she frowned - and frowned deeper when she heard the girls were still talking.

"Oh, I've heard you had a lot of problems with that one! She really does seem very unrefined," said one of the girls, getting nods from the others. "Maybe it's because she grew up in the city. People there simply don't know how to treat their slaves."

"Well, she's very perfectionist in making Quinn's hair though. We can't deny that," said Brittany with a shrug.

Quinn felt her blood running thicker. She didn't like at all that suddenly Rachel had become the subject of a party that should be focusing on her. Besides, she was the only one that could talk badly about Rachel and her manners. No one else had the right to do so. But at the same time, Brittany didn't have the right to defend Rachel either. So before she got even angrier and ruined her own party, she left the girls talking by themselves and attached herself to the arms of the first boy she saw.

And like that she stayed for most of the night. From the arms to one gentleman to the other, twirling, waltzing and prancing. She was the light of the party, and everyone had eyes on her, just like it should be. She closed her eyes and let the music lead her, finally putting the so many dancing lessons she had taken to use. Still, it didn't feel right. No one seemed to match her rhythm, and she got way too many man stepping on her foot.

"She is never gonna find a husband dancing with everyone like this!" She could hear her mother angry whisper to her father.

"She is merely dancing, Judy! Look how merry she looks! Leave her be!" Russell replied back with a coarse laugh. Quinn smiled quietly against a tall gentleman's shoulder. Too tall.

"No one is gonna want her, Russell!" Judy whispered again.

"That's fine, then she will be my little girl forever!" Said Russell, too intoxicated with wine to be able to keep his voice down. Quinn was glad he didn't. Hearing his words took some of the weight off of her shoulders and let her finally enjoy her own ball without having to worry so much about the consequences it would bring. It didn't matter if any of the men could dance, or if they were too tall, or even too old. If she didn't pick anyone, she would be fine. Her father was on her side.

When Quinn finally found Rachel again, she had sipped enough champagne to admit to herself that she wished she could simply let go of Mr. Hurley's arms and run to Rachel's, where they would dance until the end of the night. Rachel should be a good dancer. She had watched Quinn's lessons enough. She wouldn't step on Quinn's feet, and even if she did, she was so small that it wouldn't even hurt. She wasn't old, or tall. She was just perfect. Or maybe Quinn had drunk too much champagne. Still, it hadn't been enough for Quinn to actually have the courage to make her wishes happen. She closed her eyes, trying to wipe the thoughts away. But the second her eyes closed, Rachel was all she could see. She pictured Rachel in her arms, swirling across the room, and it finally felt right.

And it made her shiver.

When the last guest left and the party was finally over, Rachel was drained of all her energy. She had never helped in such a large event, and it was especially difficult as Quinn got dizzier and just a little bit too cheerful and touchy - until her mother gently reminded her that she had drunk enough and that it wasn't polite for such a young woman to be intoxicated. Not that Quinn listened to her at all.

Rachel waited by Quinn's door as she finished putting on her night gown, but when Quinn came out she carried a tray in her hand that Rachel had no idea where it could have come from. Quinn walked to the bed and pulled the covers from the other side - her non-verbal signal to invite Rachel to lay with her. Rachel abode and sat by her side, but still couldn't figure what she carried in that covered tray, and curiosity killed her.

"Happy birthday," Quinn whispered. Rachel thought she hadn't heard right, or that perhaps Quinn was talking to herself. But Quinn pushed the tray towards her and pulled the lid away, revealing a plate with the largest piece of cake Rachel had ever seen. Rachel gasped, but didn't move. It felt too good to be real. It felt like a trap. It was just cruel. But Quinn caught Rachel's eyes, and Rachel found the truth. Quinn wasn't mocking her or joking. She grabbed Rachel's hand, and Rachel felt Quinn's apologies dripping through her finger. The intimacy and innocence of the act took Rachel's breath away. It was nothing like anything they had ever shared. And she never wanted to let go. "It's for you. You can eat it," said Quinn, as if Rachel hadn't understood.

"How did you know?" Rachel whispered back. Quinn grabbed a fork and took one bite of the cake, motioning for Rachel to do the same. She did after some hesitation, and instantly regretted it. After eating a cake like that, not even the best foods she got in her rations would feel tasty enough. The whipped cream melted inside her mouth, and she almost missed when Quinn whispered an answer to her question.

"You know how I know…" said Quinn. And Rachel did. She remembered precisely the day she had last eaten a piece of Quinn's birthday cake, and what were the consequences for that. It hurt deeply for Rachel to think that although Quinn hadn't been the one ordering it, she was still somehow responsible for the whipping that took her mother's life. She couldn't just forget all of their past, but she felt like the little Quinn from back then was a whole different person from the Quinn that stood in front of her at that moment. Quinn had too many versions of herself, and it was getting hard for Rachel to keep up. "I'm sorry," Quinn whispered even lower than before, and Rachel's eyes shot wide.

She liked to think she understood Quinn. Quinn was quiet and didn't express her feelings out loud. All her recent actions had a reason and a purpose. But to unravel something that had happened so long ago and still apologize for it… She didn't know Quinn at all. She would have understood if Quinn had just grabbed her hand - it was what she always did. Apologize quietly. But not this time. Rachel felt her heart taking a flip inside her chest, and beating faster than she thought it could. She didn't know Quinn - and it was all she wanted. Well, that and something else.

"Miss Quinn?" Rachel asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Quinn lifted her head in Rachel's direction, but Rachel waited for clear instructions that she was allowed to go on.

"Yes?" Said Quinn, perhaps still a little dizzy from all the champagne. Perhaps that's why Rachel felt so brave.

"If I…" Rachel took a deep breath. "If I wanted to kiss you right now, would you let me?"

Quinn nodded.

And so she did.