AN: Thanks again for the awesome reviews :) You guys are the best! Here's a heavy dose of Faberry, I hope you like it!

Rachel had spent most of her evening trying to prepare herself to see Quinn again. Not just with the four different outfits she'd gone through trying to find the 'right' one – more so mentally. Because, despite the fact that in person she found Agent Fabray to be lovely, it was still Quinn Fabray and to say she was feeling apprehensive would be putting it mildly. After she'd left the blonde's office she'd been bombarded with memories of Babygate, Finn, and all sorts of things she had barely thought about anymore. Then on her way home, every time she saw someone walking on the street with a beverage, she flinched – and she hadn't done that since her first year in New York.

"Oh my God, I have slushie PTSD!" She'd wailed once safely back inside her apartment.

That had been hours ago, and now she was sitting comfortably in a booth at her favorite bar, awaiting her high school nemesis so that they could chat over drinks like old girlfriends.

She sighed and took a deep drink of her cocktail, wondering for the millionth time how her world could have gotten so muddled so quickly - with herself as an accomplice, no less.

"Is this seat taken?"

Rachel jerked and looked up into bright hazel eyes. She stared. She couldn't help it and hoped her jaw wasn't hanging open. Quinn wasn't wearing the suit she'd had on in her office. Instead she was wearing, well, normal clothes. Dark jeans, a low cut shirt, and a leather bomber jacket that Rachel would never expected to see over the blonde's shoulders. She looked so at ease and comfortable, and it boggled Rachel's brain.

"Hi," she squeaked, and Quinn frowned down at herself, having caught on to her stare.

"What? Did I spill something on myself already?"

"No, I –" Rachel swallowed and cursed herself, "I guess I'm still looking for those cute dresses."

"Oh." Quinn shrugged and gestured at the empty seat. Rachel nodded and the other woman gracefully slid in, still smiling as she settled. "I still have some, and I wear them when I can. They're just really not practical in my line of work."

Images of the former cheerleader chasing down criminals in a sunnily colored dress flitted through Rachel's mind, and she found herself nodding in agreement. "Yes, I can see how they might be a hindrance in the performance of your duties."

"What about you? I don't see any argyle and you're wearing jeans," The blonde smirked and waved at the waitress to get her attention then turned back expectantly.

"There's still some argyle hiding in my wardrobe, don't you worry. But the skirts were the first thing to go when I moved to New York. I got really tired of having my ass pinched, groped, or slapped."

Quinn laughed and Rachel grinned, feeling her shoulders relax a touch at the friendly, welcome sound. This could be easy, she thought, I think I could actually get along and genuinely like this woman. Quinn 2.0 isn't scary at all! She watched her company order her drink and knew it was all going to be alright when Quinn sent her a sly little wink whilst speaking with the waitress.

"So you have questions, I have questions – we've got a lot of catching up to do. Want to start?"

"Are you kidding? I have a list," Rachel gushed and held onto her laughter until the blondes startled look faded back into amusement.

"You're pulling my leg!" She accused and shook her head when Rachel burst into laughter.

"No, no list with gold star stickers as bullet points," She promised the agent. "I do have several questions though."

"Shoot."

"First and foremost, what exactly is it that you do? I don't know how this works, if you can tell me or whatever, but... can you tell me?" Sitting back she pulled her drink along and took another sip from it. Quinn looked thoughtful at the question, her head tilted to one side. Her blonde hair spilled silkily over her shoulder. Rachel made mental note to inquire after the brand of hair care products the other woman was using.

"For the most part I can answer questions," Quinn said and paused to happily accept her martini from the waitress. "But I may not be able to tell you everything. Does that make sense?"

"Yes," Rachel nodded, curiosity even further piqued by the mystery. "What do you do, Quinn?"

"I work with the Violent Crimes Unit," She answered without hesitation. "Which is precisely what it sounds like."

"Elaborate?"

"My team mostly works catching murderers, though we occasionally get called in to assist with kidnappings, drug busts, and the like."

"You, Quinn Fabray, investigate murder?"

She nodded, "Shocking, right?"

"A little, especially considering I'd always thought you'd end up as a model or something along those lines." Rachel looked back into those dancing eyes across the table from her and couldn't believe the girl she knew had grown into this woman. "Most of the time when someone said FBI I thought about Miss Congeniality."

"Oh god," Quinn groaned and dropped her head into her hands, "Seriously Rachel? We have to fix that."

Shrugging and smiling Rachel tentatively reached out and poked Quinn's hand. "I said most of the time. I haven't seen the movies but I know that Hannibal Lecter has something to do with the FBI too."

Her hands fell away and the incredulous look on her face only made Rachel grin that much wider, "That's almost worse."

"Sorry. Moving on?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay." Rachel thought for a moment. She had so many questions to ask and didn't know where to start. "Have you ever kicked a door in?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow, and then rolled her eyes skyward, "Um, I've kicked in six doors in my career thus far. Agent Peterson usually does the kicking. It makes him feel manly."

"Agent Peterson is your partner?"

"I don't have an assigned partner. We work in teams, but I suppose he's the closest thing I have to being the Mulder to my Scully."

"What about high speed pursuits?"

"Two, and I never want to do that ever again," Quinn said firmly.

Tapping a finger against her chin, Rachel pondered her next question for a moment. She knew she was monopolizing the conversation, but Quinn didn't seem to mind - she was smiling and sipping at her drink, and never once took her eyes away or acted like she was bored.

It was nice.

"You carry a gun?"

Her smile fell, just a little, "Yes, I do."

"What kind?" Not that she would know anything Quinn could answer with, but she was keeping excellent mental notes. Google was her best friend, after all.

"Standard issue Glock 23. It's a compact .40, easier to conceal than the Glock 22, and it fits better in my smaller hands."

Rachel giggled - she'd sounded a bit like she imagined the FBI field manual would sound like.

"Have you ever shot anyone?"

Now her spine stiffened and Rachel realized her mistake. Quinn's face fell even as she straightened up, instantly looking uncomfortable and so sad that it took Rachel's breath away.

"I have," she said after a long moment of silence, and dropped her gaze to stare down into her drink. "I pray every time that it's the last time I have to do that."

Swallowing hard Rachel put her hand out again, slid it over the top of Quinn's and squeezed warmly, "I'm sorry Quinn. I shouldn't have asked."

The hand under hers rotated so their palms met and squeezed back, "It's alright, you didn't know and I should've been more prepared for the question."

New topic, new topic, new topic! Her brain shrieked as she pulled her hand back. Think of something!

"So, other than keeping the city safe from psychopaths, what have you been up to?"

Quinn breathed a sigh and then her smile was back in full force, soothing Rachel's nerves, "Not much. I'm a bit of a hermit these days. What about you, though? I'm sure your life is full of glamorous events and parties?"

"Well, there are some, but I kind of keep to myself, as well. Being in the spotlight is wonderful, don't get me wrong, but it also taught me to cherish my private life."

"Private life? My turn to pry," Quinn grinned and Rachel braced herself. For what, she wasn't sure, but she was going to be ready for it. "So are you and Finn…?"

It was Rachel's turn to choke on her drink. The alcohol stung as she coughed and laughed in the same breath. "Oh God, no, that's been over with for years. I haven't even thought of Finn Hudson in – wow, talk about a trip down memory lane!"

"I thought maybe you two were going to be that weird statistic that got married after High School. You know 'fated', 'match made in heaven', all that."

"Ha, so did we." Rachel snorted, remembering bumbling but ultimately sweet Finn Hudson and their 'epic' romance. It had fizzled out shortly after Sophomore year of college. Between the distance and the fact that Finn discovered just how many other girls were outside the small world of Lima, Ohio, their relationship had come to a sudden stop with one phone call. "It just didn't work out that way. We both realized that while we cared about each other, we just weren't right for one another. My goals and his didn't work together. I'm not seeing anyone right now, actually. What about you? I'm guessing a lawyer or someone like that – maybe someone you work with? Agent Peterson is pretty easy on the eyes."

Quinn barked a laugh, "Ryan is very easy on the eyes, I can't deny that, but he's not my type, so to speak. And I will definitely never date another lawyer. Ever."

"Ah-ha! So you did date a lawyer?" Rachel asked, thinking about how strange it was that someone like the handsome agent she'd met earlier wasn't Quinn Fabray's type. He was completely the old Quinn's type.

"ADA Baker, for a little over a year," Quinn said slowly, suddenly looking exceedingly nervous. She shifted in her seat and started toying with the stem of her glass, eyes darting all over the room, looking anywhere but at Rachel.

She felt her forehead wrinkle as the name 'Baker' danced around her head. She knew that name, she'd heard it before on the… news.

"ADA Baker?" She breathed as recognition dawned. That's not what she meant, right?

"Yes," Quinn sighed and winced.

"Assistant District Attorney Laura Baker?" Rachel heard her voice squeak and was instantly appalled at herself. She was making Quinn more uncomfortable, and she could tell, but she couldn't seem to stop from putting her foot in her mouth. "Quinn Fabray is gay?"

Quinn's eyes sought hers again dancing with what looked like poorly contained mirth, but also questioning, "Guess I'm really not the Quinn you remember."

As she tried to wrap her brain around the new info Quinn seemed to relax further. Rachel wondered if the other woman thought she might run at the revelation. She held up a finger, indicating that she needed a second. Quinn merely sipped at her drink and set her chin on her palm, waiting for Rachel's brain to re-boot.

"You alright?" She asked after a few more seconds, amusement coloring her tone.

"I – yes, just… surprised I think. We fought over Finn," Rachel murmured, hearing the echo of their fights in her ears. "And you and Puck… Sam." She shook her head and Quinn shrugged.

"Yeah, it took me a while too."

"Wow, I just, I never would have guessed," she said and shook her head again. "How did you, you know, how did it –"

"How did I come to realize and admit to myself that I'm gay?"

"Yes, that." Unsure if she was offending Quinn with the question, she checked the other woman's expression and found it still friendly.

"Santana," she answered and smirked.

"Santana Lopez?" Rachel echoed, and couldn't help the shudder that worked over her.

"Don't look so stunned," Quinn laughed.

"Sorry, again. So you two…?"

"What? No!" Quinn only laughed harder and Rachel felt so confused that she wondered if the alcohol was fueling it. "Oh, no, no. She just kind of, in her own loveable Santana way, helped me deal with the truth." The blonde finished off her martini and lifted the toothpick and olives from the glass. "And the truth is, I'm gay."

"Wow," she breathed again, like a broken record.

"Yeah, you should've seen me when I admitted it the first time. I hyperventilated."

"How did your mother take that?" Rachel asked, thinking about the Fabray's and their perfect little home with their perfect little family. Until Quinn's pregnancy and it came out what a bastard Russell Fabray really was. She knew Judy Fabray had taken Quinn back in and attempted to repair their relationship. She hoped Quinn wasn't about to tell her how her mother had abandoned her again.

"She said, 'I guess I won't have to worry about anymore unplanned pregnancies'. End quote." Quinn rolled her eyes fondly and shrugged.

"That's amazing." She didn't know what else to say to that. She really didn't know what to say about anything anymore.

"You're telling me. I almost passed out, I was so scared," The blonde leaned her head into her hand and nibbled at an olive from her drink. "Can I ask you something?"

"Now would seem the time," Rachel joked lightly.

The waitress briefly interrupted them, materializing out of nowhere, it seemed, to take their empty glasses and ask about refills.

They both agreed to a refill. Rachel knew she was going to need hers.

"Why did you agree to this? To seeing me again?" Quinn blurted out and then looked sheepish, "I mean, not that I'm complaining. At all. I just wanted to know."

Well there it is, Rachel mused, "Oh, serious conversation?"

"Yeah, I'm ready, lay it on me."

"Okay. Here goes. Be warned that this could be lengthy – the liquor doesn't help," Taking a steadying breath and a moment to collect her thoughts she began. "Growing up, I told myself that Broadway was all I wanted and that it didn't matter that I didn't have friends. I made myself believe that it was better that way. I created this lie that it didn't hurt, that it shouldn't hurt, because someday I would be here and the rest of you would be nothing, mean nothing. Just memories. I chased after Finn because I wanted that 'leading man' – it all comes back to Broadway, you see."

She paused as their refills arrived and took a greedy gulp of hers before charging on. "It was lonely, Quinn. So lonely sometimes that I cried until I couldn't breathe, and it's only now when I go home to an empty apartment that I realize all my lies did was make it worse. I don't know how to make friends. I'm terrified to try, but I want them. So badly. I don't even hang out with my castmates, and they invite me, because I feel so awkward and like I'm going to mess it up."

Her eyes tracked over Quinn's face as she spoke, and she saw the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. "I wanted to be your friend when we were kids, and I didn't even know why. You didn't fit into Broadway. You still don't, but I can't seem to stop myself. I have the opportunity here, presented again, and despite the fact that I really, really, shouldn't be, I'm here, trying again."

Quinn sucked in a huge, shuddery, breath and Rachel felt guilt stirring in her stomach as the blonde struggled in front of her. Finally she reached out and took both of her hands. "Rachel, I know that I can't make up for it all in one evening, but I want to. God, I want to. I'm so sorry for everything that I did, more sorry than I could ever tell you. If you'll trust me, and I know it's hard, but if you can let me in there past all the walls I helped you build, I want to know you."

Now Rachel had tears swelling in her eyes, she brushed at them with a finger and chuckled soggily. "Why are you doing all this, Quinn?" The blonde was looking at her so earnestly it felt like she could see into her soul or something. "You didn't have to say anything to me at the bookstore. You chose to. But why, why are you going through all this effort?"

"I just – I want you to know who I am. Really. You know when you're in high school it seems like it's the whole world. The friends you have will be yours until death do you part, your boyfriend is your soulmate. Every little thing that goes wrong equals the end of life as you know it."

She picked up her drink, apparently also needing the liquid courage. "All those people and all our bullshit teen angst, I look back now… I was wrong a lot, sometimes I got it right, but with you, I know I was wrong. I knew it was wrong then, but I was so scared. The things I said that made sense then, they make me cringe now. I thought my life was over, that I would never be able to crawl my way out of that pit. A pregnant teenager with no home. I was wrong. I'm not making excuses, Rachel; I just need to get this all out."

Quinn sighed hard through her nose and Rachel squeezed her hand in sympathy. They weren't holding anything back and it was a bit like running a marathon. "Every minute of every day we make choices. Who we are. Who we forgive. Who we defend and protect. We choose sides or maybe walk the line between. Straddle the fence between what is, what could be, what should be. This, my job, everything I do and am - it's the course that I chose to try and find some way to atone for things."

If she hadn't been completely taken with Quinn 2.0 before, she was now. Rachel bit into her bottom lip and wiped at her eyes again. "Jesus, Quinn," she said when she could talk again. "You've grown up."

The agent graced her with a watery smile. "It's a work in progress."

"I like where it's headed," Rachel said and cleared her throat.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." She lifted her drink and resisted the temptation to drain it all in one go. The burn of it going down her throat felt good. She sighed and shook her head. "Are you always so grown up?"

Quinn grinned. "Nope. Not even in the slightest. I've been stewing over all of this for so long and now that you're here, it's kind of like I might die if I don't get it all out. Or there's the chance that you could walk away after this and I'd never get to tell you how sorry I am. That wouldn't do at all."

Stunned again, because it seemed like Quinn would never cease surprising her, Rachel had to tell her, "You're so different, Quinn."

"You're not. You're exactly how I remember," she said firmly, burning her up with the intensity in her gaze.

"I'm not sure that's a good thing," Rachel laughed, remembering her younger self. Sometimes a memory would strike her out of nowhere and she could honestly say she was embarrassed about some of the things she'd said and done. God, Sunshine Corazon much?

"It is though; it's a very good thing. You've grown up, too, but you've still got that same smile, the same fire in your eyes." She grinned and ducked her head, "The blush, however, is new."

If anything it just made her blush harder. Rachel rubbed her fingers against her flaming cheeks. "No it isn't, you just didn't notice before."

An easy silence fell over them, leaving both women lost in their thoughts.

"You know my dad's have always said that you were mean because you were scared," Rachel commented.

Quinn nodded, "I was."

"Of what?"

"Of how much I liked you – more than I was supposed to." She blushed prettily with the admission and Rachel felt her mouth fall open.

No fucking way.

"You… you had a crush on me?" She asked, staring at the blonde in front of her in complete disbelief.

"So bad," Quinn laughed, "Come on Rachel, pornographic pictures? Who does that?"

Horny teenage boys… oh! "God, my face is going to catch fire," she moaned, and scrubbed her hands over her cheeks. Quinn glanced up over her shoulder and winced, prompting Rachel to follow her example and look behind her. A clock hung up on the wall proudly showing off just how late it actually was.

"I should probably go," Quinn said and Rachel was pretty sure she heard regret. She nodded too, though, because it was that late and about time for her to head home as well.

"Yes, it is that time, unfortunately."

They sauntered up to the bar together, happily chattering about the musical she was in at the moment. She even managed to get Quinn to agree to go see it. As they paid and started on their way out it struck Rachel just how content she felt. No pressure, no anxiety, she was being herself and for the first time in a long time she didn't feel like it would end in rejection. Standing outside, side by side waiting for a cab she realized just how much she didn't want the evening to be over.

"Quinn?"

The agent hummed in response, her eyes slid from the fixed spot on the street to look down at her and a new sort of rush filled her.

"Thank you," she all but whispered and couldn't keep her own gaze from falling down to Quinn's mouth. She'd never, ever wanted to kiss someone so much before. The fact that it was Quinn Fabray just added to the surrealistic situation. But then she saw Quinn looking at her too and it was a different look then before. Still warm, still caring, but there was something else there.

Want.

The tension between them changed in an instant, growing thicker and so charged that it took Rachel's breath away. She tilted her chin up, a silent invitation.

Quinn brought her mouth down immediately, gently kissing her at first, and then her hand slipped up to cradle Rachel's head.

Rachel's knees almost buckled at the first tentative touch of Quinn's tongue to her lips and she eagerly opened her mouth, allowing the other woman to deepen their kiss. She'd never been kissed so passionately, so thoroughly. She slid her own hands up and curled her fingers against the taller woman's collarbone, holding on for dear life. Quinn pulled her impossibly closer, gradually slowed their kiss until it softened. Rachel couldn't help the whimper that escaped her at the utter longing that welled in her chest. She wanted more of this woman, because there was no way now that she would ever get enough of the feeling. She'd found home in Quinn's arms. When they parted, breathing hard, Rachel shook her head, awestruck.

"Quinn, what is this?" She gasped, and stared up into dark hazel eyes.

"I don't know. Fate? Karma? Take your pick," Quinn husked then dipped her head to capture her mouth again.

At that point, Rachel decided she didn't really care anymore.

END