"You mentioned that you've been having nightmares recently?" Dr Shepard asked Quinn as he held a pen and an A4 notepad eagerly. She looked at him with disdain. It hadn't been her that had told him, she had no intention of doing so but unfortunately she made the mistake of confiding in her mother who thought it a good idea to share with her shrink.

Quinn cast her gaze downwards and shifted uncomfortably in the stiff leather chair. She chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated elaborating on the dreams. Quinn had no idea why she was having these terrifying dreams and she wondered if she surrendered them to him, would he be able to offer insight? After all, didn't psychiatrists study Freud's Dream Analysis?

"I'm in a house," the blonde said in an almost whisper, still unable to meet the psychiatrist's questioning gaze. Dr Shepard's eyes glistened, pleased that the girl was unravelling her thoughts to him at last. He wrote something down then turned his attention back to Quinn, goading her to continue.
"It's just turning dark out and I'm sitting on a bed. Alone. I think- I think I'm crying for some reason," Quinn screwed her eyes shut, trying to remember what came next but the memory was becoming foggy and muddled. "For some reason, I'm scared out of my mind," She swallowed hard, knotting her eyebrows together as she concentrated. "I'm holding something- a box. It's plain wood, but it's old and dirty. I go to open it and then I hear something. I hear footsteps outside of the door and suddenly I'm stuffing the box into a space behind a loose brick in the wall. Then, the door bursts open but it's dark and all I can see is a figure, a man I think. He starts coming towards me and I scream." Quinn opened her eyes and looked reluctantly at Dr Shepard who was furiously scribbling on the paper. "Then I wake up," she finished and looked away in awkwardness. She shuddered at how uncomfortable it was for this strange man that she didn't even like to know something as personal as a dream. They were supposed to express hidden thoughts and feelings and she definitely didn't like the idea of him knowing those things about her.

After a while Dr Shepard stopped writing and uncrossed his legs, resting his pen and paper on the arm of his chair as he leaned back. "From what it sounds like with the crying and the fear, you're repressing emotions- negative ones at that. The box represents limitations which you are trying to hide from the figure- which could be an aspect of yourself that you aren't comfortable with. Is this suggesting anything to you?" He cocked his head and looked at the teenager for an answer.

Quinn licked her lips, considering what he had said. She repressed a lot of things from a lot of people and it had never bothered her in her sleep before, so why start now? There was something strangely familiar about the dream but she couldn't figure out what. She sighed internally frustrated at all the little jigsaw pieces that refused to fit together and form a clear picture.

"Not that I can think of. Maybe I'm just watching too many horror movies," she replied, running a hand through her short golden locks. She noticed the look of disappointment on Dr Shepard's face as she closed herself off from him again as fast as she had opened.

He rubbed his chin in thought. "Have you been taking your medication correctly?"

No. "Yes," she lied.

"Have you been hearing and seeing," he hesitated for just the briefest moment as he considered the word. "- ghosts since?"

Duh. "No," she lied again.

"I recommend that you keep a dream journal from now on, and bring it with you to our sessions if these dreams continue. Maybe something can be resolved from them."

Quinn had no intention of doing either. She could remember dreams easily, right down to the last detail and she wasn't about to let this guy analyse them and tell her things that she was sure they didn't mean. She nodded anyway to appease him.

"Well Quinn, our time is up. It was nice of you to show up this time," he said, smiling sarcastically at her as she stood up.

"It was either this or being grounded for a month," she quipped. "Though I considered the latter."

"I'm sure you did," he muttered, fully intent on her hearing it. Quinn scowled. "See you next week Quinn," he shouted after her, head buried in his notes.

Quinn only grunted in reply as she exited the room and headed towards the waiting room. She surveyed the room and frowned when she realised that the only person there was a middle aged woman. Her father wasn't there to pick her up, so she reached into her pocket and pulled out her new cell. She had a text from her dad, and she already knew what it was going to read.

Working late, walk back, it's not far x

Quinn huffed. Her parents had returned home yesterday and one of the first things her father had said to her had been to remind her about her appointment with Dr Shepard. They had both argued about going and not going but ultimately Russell got his way which only angered Quinn more. He forced her to come and now he wouldn't even pick her up when it was dark out on the streets. She knew damned well that 'working late' was code for 'banging the secretary'. If it wouldn't tear her family apart she would have confronted him about the unexplained lipstick stains on his collars, the fact he sometimes stunk of perfume that Judy didn't own or the weird phone call's he'd constantly receive from an unknown number. But as it was, Quinn wasn't about to do anything about it, though she had an inkling her mother had figured it out long before her and she also had an inkling that her mother didn't want her family to fall apart either. After all, the Fabrays were all about appearances. Quinn scoffed to herself, banishing her train of thought as she headed towards the door.

She wrapped her thick coat even further around her body as she walked along a deserted sidewalk that led away from the town and back towards her secluded house. The air was frosty and bit at every bit of uncovered skin, causing her to shiver. The cold air caught in the back of her throat, making it hard to breathe and her nose sting.

Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. An overwhelming sense of being watched suffocated her, as though someone had suddenly replaced the air with concrete. Subtly, she glanced around her surroundings. Nothing but trees and a couple of parked cars. She couldn't hear anything at all; the air was as still as it was cold.

Just as she came to the conclusion that she was being paranoid, something thudded behind her and a chilling sensation trickled down her back. She didn't dare turn around; instead she did what Quinn did best. She ran from whatever it was that frightened her. She was about half an hour away from home but she didn't care. She kept on running, feeling the burn in her chest and the ache in her muscles as she pounded along the ground in a state of panic.

She landed to the floor with a heavy thud as she collided with something solid. She winced as she landed on her bandaged arm which felt like someone had just set it on fire. Her eyes flew open to meet the obstacle and to her surprise she saw Noah Puckerman standing there with a curious look on his face that looked suspiciously like an amused grin.

"What the hell?" Quinn shouted. "Why were you following me? I thought- I thought," she bit off the rest of her sentence as she picked herself up of the ground and looked angrily at an increasingly confused Puck.

"Following you? I'm walking to my car Quinn," he said, motioning towards a parked up truck. "I've been cleaning Ms Harrison's pool," Puck explained further.

Quinn scoffed. "I bet you have."

Puck smirked at the fly comment. "Where're you heading Quinn? Why were you so scared?"

"I wasn't scared! I was…running to keep warm," she lied. There was no way she was about to tell him she was freaked out because of a paranoid thought, if he didn't already, he'd have thought she was crazy. "My dad couldn't pick me up from town so I've had to walk," she huffed, shuffling her coat around her for warmth.

"Want a ride?"

"You don't have to."

"Quinn, seriously it's fine. It'll be safer than you walking around on your own in the dark."

"Really?" she raised an eyebrow as she smirked.

"Just get in," he laughed in reply as he jumped in the truck and pushed the passenger door open.

After a few moments of silence, Puck reached over to turn the heater up, noticing that Quinn was still shivering. "So, what were you doing out in town this late at night?" He asked.

"My dad makes me see a psychologist," she told him, half regretting it immediately and half interested in what his response would be.

"Really? Why?" He asked with genuine confusion. "You seem perfectly normal to me," he said cheerfully.

"I see ghosts," she replied without thinking. Okay, so she did regret that.

Puck made a chocking sound and looked at Quinn. "You see ghosts?"

"Yup. I know it sounds crazy but It's not and neither am I, I know what I see and-"

"Whoa, whoa chill," Puck laughed. Quinn dropped back into her seat, not realising how defensive she got. "I believe you."

Quinn's brow shot up in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Puck sighed and scratched his head before saying, "When I was a kid, the place where we lived at the time was in the middle of nowhere, and at night, there was no artificial light right? So at night, the windows were totally black so you could see the reflection of the inside of the room perfectly. Well one night, my mom went out and she left me on my own. I got up to go get a drink and when I walked back in, I looked out of the window and in the chair where I'd just got up from was a freakin' grey figure sat there," he said ending with a shudder at the memory.

"Ghost's figures are always distorted in mirrors," Quinn explained. "Did you turn around to look at it?"

"Hell no! I got out of that house faster than a hooker spreads her legs."

"Nice analogy," Quinn muttered sarcastically. She cleared her throat. "So you're not lying? Oh, this one here," she said pointing to a nearing house.

"I don't think I could lie about that if I tried. That thing, whatever it was…" he shook his head, breaking off the rest of his sentence. "Point is, I know you're not crazy," he told her whilst pulling up outside of her house.

"Do you see them anymore?" She probed, slightly excited that there might be someone else like her.

"Never since, but I dunno'. I was pretty doped up on meds at the time; I actually nearly died from pneumonia. My mom just thought I was trying to get out of going to school," he chuckled.

Something peeked Quinn's interest. "How ill were you when you saw it?"

"Well, a couple days later, I got admitted to the ER so pretty ill, why?"

Quinn shrugged. "Just curious."

"Huh. Well, this is you anyway, I'll see you around?"

"Sure," she smiled as she hopped out of the truck. "Thanks by the way."

"Anytime, if ever you need a ride at night, just ask." He shot her a boyish grin and drove off before Quinn could reply, but she didn't bother, she was too busy thinking about what she'd just learnt. Maybe dying people could see ghosts too.

Before she even touched the front door handle, the door flew open and her mother greeted her with crossed arms. "Who was that?" Judy asked

"A friend mom," Quinn murmured, pushing past Judy who followed her into the kitchen.

"You've never mentioned him before."

"You never asked," Quinn replied blankly. "Dad not back yet?" She asked, changing the subject. Judy sighed and picked up a glass of red wine at the table. Quinn shook her head which went unnoticed by her mother.

"No honey, he's still at work," Judy said, betraying no emotion.

"Oh. Well, I'm pretty tired. I'm going to go to my room." She hugged her mother and hurried to her room, letting the door shut softly behind her. She couldn't stand to be around her mother when she cracked open the booze. It was the same old thing every time. Judy would get drunk and sob her heart out to a reluctant Quinn whilst she said things that made Quinn feel incredibly guilty about being her daughter. She knew that their parents had wanted the perfect children. Unfortunately the prefect gene skipped her and blessed her older sister and Quinn knew that whenever her parents wanted to brag about their children, they would always brush over the unconventional daughter. Quinn felt the hurt rise in her chest and she pushed it away with a self-lie. She didn't care.

She flopped onto the bed, letting her head sink into the pillow. She wasn't tired, she was restless. Quinn couldn't stop thinking about her dreams and how she thought that they were somehow connected to the house. She desperately wanted to help Rachel and she had a feeling that something in the dreams could help her do that.

She sat up, suddenly thinking of an idea. She grabbed her phone and texted: Meet me tomorrow at 2 in the library? I need your help with something. She sent the text to Puck, Santana and Brittany.

Almost immediately after, her phone screen lit up with a message from Puck, Quinn?

Yeah, so can I get your help?

Sure, I'll be there a little late. I've got to clean a couple of pools first. What's this about Quinn?

I'll fill you in tomorrow, it's a long story.

Sure okay, see you tomorrow.

She didn't bother replying because another message popped up from Santana.

Yeah okay, I know it's some ghost shit so fill me in tomorrow, I'm kinda' busy. Britt says she'll be there. Don't text me again tonight.

Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana's text but laughed at Santana's bluntness. Tomorrow she was going to do some research and find out as much as she could about the house and how to get rid of that spirit. There must be a way and Quinn was determined to find it. Though she just knew that Santana would have something to say about spending time in a library during Christmas break.

She slouched down on the floor against her bed. Another problem was bothering Quinn and annoyingly enough it was also ghost related. Rachel. She liked her, a lot. Growing up, there weren't many people that Quinn trusted enough to befriend, never mind like but Rachel was different. There was something about her that made Quinn feel almost normal. Quite ironic when she was a ghost. Quinn bit her lip in thought. Was it crazy to feel affection for someone who's dead? She could touch her, talk to her, see her. It all felt normal, as though Rachel was alive. Quinn shook her head and opened a book, intent on being distracted by the play: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

A couple of hours later, Quinn had retired to her bed. Her eyes had gotten to that stage where they stung and she felt drowsy. She wasn't surprised; ever since she'd started having those dreams she'd not gotten much sleep. Now, she left her lamp on as her fear of the dark became ever more prominent.

Just as she settled down, an icy chill made her shiver. Her eyes shot open as alarm bells rang in her head, sounding an obnoxious ringing in her ears as her heart began to race and the panic began to rise again. Almost immediately after, something dark flashed in the corner of her eye. There was a ghost in her room, she knew it for sure.

She dove under the covers and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling very much like how she was as a child. She yelped as she heard the bulb in the lamp explode, plummeting the room into darkness. Quinn felt a tear trickle down the side of her face and she tried to steady her heavy breathing so she could listen and think. She couldn't move, she didn't dare. She was scared and she knew that whatever was in her room lived off of that fact. She knew it was a malevolent spirit; the air had grown thick with negative energy that tingled on her skin. It was times like this when she hated her 'gift' more than anything. If she couldn't see ghosts then she'd be blissfully ignorant to their existence. The only good that came from it was Rachel. Now that was a thought that calmed her if only a little.

It had been almost half an hour when Quinn decided that whatever had been in her room had left. She felt like she could finally breathe again and if she moved nothing was going to attack her. Hesitantly and slowly, she lifted the covers back and looked around the room. It was still and she couldn't sense anything. She closed her eyes again as she crawled out of bed towards the light switch near the door, cursing when she hit her head on one of the beams.

The room erupted with light and Quinn shot back into her bed. She opened her bedside draw and scrabbled for the Walkie-talkie she had purchased on Saturday. "R-Rachel?" she whispered, waiting for a reply. "Rachel, if you can hear me, hold down the red button and reply, please?" She spoke a little louder and waited for a few moments, about to give up when she heard a crackle come from the device.

"Quinn?" the sound of Rachel's voice crackled through the low quality speaker but it settled Quinn's nerves all the same.

"Y-yeah, it's me. Look, I'm sorry about before I just- I'm just stressed with my parents and stuff."

"Don't worry about it," Rachel said with a tinge of hurt in her voice though Quinn didn't notice. "Are you okay? You sound upset," Rachel asked with genuine concern.

"I'm, I just- will you sing for me?"

"What?"

"I had a bad dream and, I usually listen to music to get me to sleep after them but my iPod's dead on battery," Quinn lied. She just wanted to listen to the ghost sing, Quinn had never heard her and after everything Rachel had told her about Glee club she was quite curious.

"Will you tell me what's really going on if I do?"

"Can I tell you tomorrow?"

Rachel huffed stubbornly. "Yes."

"Thanks Rach."

"What do you want me to sing?"

"Anything," Quinn said, feeling a blush haze her formerly pale cheeks.

The blonde girl heard nothing for a few moments and she began to think that Rachel wasn't going to do it.

Then the ghost began to sing and Quinn's eyes shot open as she mouthed a silent 'wow'. Rachel's voice was seriously beautiful. It was sweet and strong holding so much emotion that it gave Quinn goosebumps by just listening. She didn't recognise the song but she loved it anyway. Rachel made it sound so appealing. The blonde let herself relax to the sound of Rachel's voice. She felt her eyes become heavy so she shut them, already feeling the tugging of sleep. She didn't want to sleep yet, she wanted to hear it until the end.

"Rach?" Quinn said once the song ended.

"Yeah?"

"That was seriously amazing, you're amazing."

"Quinn…"

"What? I'm just complementing your voice, it's seriously beautiful," Quinn told her, feeling a slight flip in her stomach. She didn't even realise she was smiling.

"Thank you. I've not sung for anyone in years, I was worried I wouldn't sound good anymore," Rachel laughed.

"Like that would ever happen," Quinn giggled.

A few moments passed and Quinn thought Rachel wasn't going to say anything else. "Quinn?" The blonde beamed a smile at hearing Rachel say her name.

"Uh-huh?"

"Your iPod hasn't run out of charge has it?" Rachel asked sceptically and Quinn almost thought she could make out the amusement in the ghost's voice.

"You got me," Quinn offered lamely, her face heating up even more.

"So why…?"

"Can I… can you just let me explain everything tomorrow? Please?"

"Will you though? I feel like ever since what happened on weekend, something's," Rachel stopped as she considered her next words carefully.

"Everything's what Rachel?" Quinn was becoming frustrated, she hated how Rachel was tip toeing around her. She knew that the ghost knew something, something related to this whole situation but Rachel kept stum which only aggravated her even more. "Rachel," she said firmly.

"That, something about you has changed. When I saw you on Saturday, you seemed different. You shouted and freaked out at me Quinn when usually you're so calm and sweet."

"You think I'm sweet?"

"Quinn!"

"Sorry," Quinn whispered. "And I'm sorry for how I acted, it's just parents and-"

"Stuff. You said," Rachel deadpanned. "I know that's not what's going in so I expect an explanation tomorrow. A real one this time." Quinn could sense the anger in Rachel's voice and sighed.

"Okay. I will, I promise. I really am sorry." When Rachel didn't respond, Quinn dared to ask a question that had been bothering her. "What's going on with us Rachel?"

"Can we talk about it tomorrow?" Quinn narrowed her eyes at Rachel's stubbornness. It seemed that if Quinn wasn't going to talk about things tonight then neither was Rachel.

"I should have seen that coming," Quinn chuckled.

"Goodnight Quinn," Rachel said with a lighter tone.

"Night Rach," Quinn replied, disappointed that the conversation was ending, no matter how awkward it was.

She shuffled back under the covers and made herself comfy. She shut her eyes and just before she dropped off into the land of sleep she heard the familiar crackle from the Walkie-talkie on her bedside table. "Sleep well Quinn." That was the last thing Rachel said but it sent Quinn to sleep with a chipper smile on her face.