A Little Unbroken

by trifectaimperfecta

The story of how the misunderstood dreamer, the attention seeker with a secret, and the outcast-turned-social butterfly became what was known as the Unholy Trinity. It begins when Brittany and Santana are twelve and follows the journey all the way to senior year. Pairings: principally Brittana and Faberry.

12. Starting Line

The sound of the Skype call's ring droned monotonously through Quinn's speakers while she waited for an answer. Four automated chimes echoed in her bedroom before they abruptly stopped and a rectangle appeared in the center of the screen.

"Hey! Sorry it took me a minute to pick up," Frannie apologized as she pushed back her mussed hair and smiled. "I was in the other room and had to make a mad dash."

"That's okay," Quinn readily forgave. "It's good to see you. What was the news you wanted to tell me? It must be big if you didn't want to send it via text."

Frannie beamed radiantly.

"It is," she confirmed. "Two big pieces of news, actually, but the first requires a visual."

She lifted her left hand until it was visible onscreen. Her fingers waggled and the light caught a silver circle around the third one. Quinn gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

"She proposed!"

Frannie nodded and blushed.

"This morning," she expounded, still unable to stop grinning.

"That's amazing," Quinn gushed. "I'm so happy for you, Frannie. You deserve it so much."

"Thanks," Frannie said. "There's more, though."

"You're expecting a baby!" Quinn jested.

"Nope," Frannie laughed. "No shotgun weddings for this lady. Mother would die of shock."

Quinn snorted.

"If that were possible, I think I'd have finished her off a couple of years ago. So what's the other thing?"

"I'm going abroad," Frannie announced. "Not permanently. There's a story they're sending Lish to cover and she's taking me with her."

"Wow, Frannie!" Quinn exclaimed. "For how long?"

"Six months...," Frannie hesitantly answered.

Quinn's heart sank to her stomach and she felt suddenly queasy.

"There's an 'and,' isn't there?" she asked fretfully.

"… And where we're going won't have reliable Internet access or cell phone reception," Frannie finished and her face was immediately etched with deep regret.

"That's okay," Quinn insisted after a beat, forcing her voice and expression to remain cheerful. "You should go. It's a once-in-a-lifetime chance and you get to share it with the one you love. I don't want you to miss out on an adventure."

"We can still write letters," Frannie apologetically offered, although her eyelids looked decidely watery.

"Exactly," Quinn concurred and nodded emphatically. "It'll be fine. We'll still be able to contact each other."

"Are you sure?" Frannie asked with a piercing gaze, studying her sister's features with scrutiny.

"Of course," Quinn shrugged and laughed. "Seriously, don't worry. I'll hold up just fine."

… … …

Brittany fanned her fingers out in the warm sand and breathed in the refreshing air while waves crashed against the shoreline. She peeped out of her lowered eyelids to glance at Santana on the towel beside her, tanning while she dozed behind her dark sunglasses. Brittany's lips turned up in an appreciative smile as she allowed her gaze to linger on the other girl's exposed skin.

"Enjoying the view?" Santana teased without opening her eyes.

"Mm-hmm," Brittany confirmed and bit her lip.

"Maybe your grandma has the right idea, moving close to the ocean," Santana mused. "It would be nice to wake up to this every day."

Brittany stretched out on her side and trailed her fingertip along Santana's arm.

"I couldn't agree more," she murmured.

Santana smirked and lifted her eyebrows.

"Dabbling in double entendre today, are we?"

Brittany grinned mischievously and scooted close to tug on Santana's earlobe with her teeth.

"Maybe," she coyly admitted.

"Ugh, I should've just gone for it and worn the bikini," Santana said ruefully, looking down at her red halter top and denim cutoffs. "But now we're so comfy and the house is all the way up there."

She waved her hand in the general direction of Brittany's grandmother's bungalow.

"Looks like laziness wins again," Santana drawled and folded her arms behind her head.

"We could run into the water to cool off," Brittany suggested. Her own black, sleeveless peasant shirt was beginning to stick to her skin as well. It had seemed like a good idea in the morning when it was overcast, but now the sun was bearing down and she was starting to get sweaty and uncomfortable.

"I'm game if you are," Santana shrugged.

Brittany's eyes crinkled at the corners and she sprang to her feet. She took Santana's hands and hauled her upright. Their palms slid into one another's with ease and grasped tightly.

"On the count of three?" Santana queried rhetorically.

"One… two… three!" Brittany cried.

They dashed into the crashing surf, squealing and shrieking as they clung to one another. The cold covered their skin with bumps at first but then it settled in deep and left them refreshed. Brittany dunked her head in and whipped it back, shoving dampened locks away from her forehead. Santana laughed and held her hands up as a shield when the droplets flew toward her face. Then her eyes met Brittany's and her smile softened.

"I'm glad things are good between us again," she said. "It's you and me, no secrets, no drama, just being us."

"So am I," Brittany replied and returned the smile with a tiny one of her own. She sloshed closer and wrapped her arms around Santana with her palms pressed against the small of the other girl's back.

"We really suck at the 'just friends' thing, don't we?" Santana concluded with a chuckle.

"Yeah, we do," Brittany agreed.

She leaned forward and kissed Santana so hard that the latter staggered slightly. Without checking the distant bungalow, without even peering through her almost-closed eyes to scan the shoreline, Santana threw her arms around Brittany's neck and kissed her back.

The kiss deepened as their tongues became reacquainted with each other's mouths and their hands started to rove. Brittany's fingers began to inch under Santana's top but then she hesitated, thinking better of it.

"Not here," Brittany panted, struggling to breathe long enough to explain. "Boats. Come on, this way."

She tugged Santana along the shore and up the incline to a place secluded by shrubs and tall grass. Once certain that they were out of sight, the two girls tumbled onto the sand. Santana started unbuckling Brittany's shorts almost as soon as they hit the ground. Brittany watched her tug them down her sun-tanned legs and toss them over her shoulder. She hoped they didn't fly too deep into the brambles in case she needed to grab them quickly after they finished. Santana discarded her own cutt-offs while she was at it, with her underwear following shortly thereafter.

Then she climbed onto Brittany's lap. Brittany draped one hand lightly over her friend's forearm as their torsos pressed together. She could feel Santana wrapping one leg around her thigh almost possessively. Santana planted a long, tender kiss right beside Brittany's ear. Brittany had to turn away to keep from crying at the old, familiar gesture. Santana noticed the flicker of pain and gently turned her head so they were facing one another. Her gaze spoke the apologies that she lacked sufficient words to voice and helped Brittany's frown vanish from sight.

Brittany arched her back to catch Santana's mouth and inhaled sharply. It made her dizzy to be surrounded by that scent again and feel their breathing synchronize as they fell into each other's patterns once more. It wasn't long before she was relieved of the burning from her ill-advised top as the blouse, too, was cast off with the rest. By the time Santana was through, their clothing was scattered around them like the marks on a compass rose with their intertwined bodies at its center.

Brittany did not fight for dominance or attempt to take control. Instead, she let herself go limp and enjoyed the feeling of having each movement initiated by Santana. The other girl left no part of her untouched, fluttering soft kisses over every inch as if she needed to reclaim it all for her own. Brittany tried not to let this attention convince her that the old, unresolved issues between them would fix themselves. However, with their hearts racing so close to one another's that the beats from one shook the skin of the other, it was nearly impossible not to let her hope rise up yet again from the ashes.

Her lips parted and those three very dangerous words nearly slipped from her tongue, but she caught them.

No. No I love yous. Not just now.

There would be time enough to get to that after they'd had more chances to talk. They needed space to readjust to each other before they walked down that path again. For now, they would simply merge like the water and sky along the horizon and let the burden of their mistakes slowly wash away.

… … …

Quinn walked into the little diner with a magazine tucked under one arm and her purse slung over the other. She chose a corner booth and settled near the window where the lighting was good. Her fingers found the most recent page she had dog-eared and flipped the magazine open to gaze at the images.

"Thinking of a makeover?" a voice deduced from above her head.

Quinn jumped and hit her knee painfully on the underside of the table. Beside her, clad in a blue dress and apron, was Mackenzie Palladino, the girl who had helped her perform It's a Man's Man's Man's World in her freshman year.

"Um, yeah, maybe," Quinn admitted belatedly and sat up a little straighter in her seat. "I need a new look."

"Well, you ditched the Goldilocks hair, so that's a start," Mackenzie remarked. "But you're looking in the wrong place for a new identity."

Quinn reached for her magazine and pulled it a little closer.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, just look at 'em," Mackenzie said and gestured toward the celebrities in the pictures. "All prissy and primped up like a Barbie doll. That'd just be more of the same for you. What you need is something drastic. Like… a little color."

"You mean like dipping the ends?" Quinn asked.

"No, no, no," Mackenzie laughed. "Bigger. I'm talking root-to-tip dye here. The question is what shade of the rainbow will you be?"

She reached out and took Quinn's chin in her hand.

"Hmm," Mackenzie mused aloud. "Maybe blue or purple. Wait, no. I've got it. I know what would be perfect for you, princess: pink."

Quinn started to protest but then she paused to think it over.

"Maybe you're right."

Mackenzie grinned and nodded before a scratchy growl from the corner demanded her attention.

"Hey, Mack! When you're done chewing the fat with your gal pal, I've got a cup of joe that needs refilling."

"All right, all right," Mackenzie called back to the trucker. "Keep your toupee on, Earl."

She winked at Quinn and readjusted her hold on the handle of the coffee pot.

"We'll talk more about it on my break. There's a place just down the street where you could buy the supplies. I'll take you there."

Quinn nodded and gave a small wave as Mackenzie walked away.

"Okay," she mumbled, still trying to imagine herself with that hair color, not altogether certain she was ready for the change so soon. "Um, thanks."

… … …

"All right," Santana confessed reluctantly as the opening credits of the fifth episode began. "It's winning me over. I can see the appeal, even if some of the aliens are a little hokey."

"Good," Brittany smiled and kissed Santana's cheek. "What do you think of this Doctor?"

"I liked how the last one was really straightforward but this one's got a kind of quirky thing going for him," Santana said. "Are we sure there's not something wrong with him, though? 'Cause he's been traveling with that hot blonde for more than a whole season and he still hasn't tapped that fine English ass. I'd say he was gay if it weren't for the fact that he looks at her like she's his last meal on death row."

"Yeah, he definitely loves her," Brittany nodded emphatically. "And she totally loves him back because, even after he regenerated and was all different, she was still into him. Like it's not about the outside or even how he acts. She cares about who he is deep down."

"Unconditional love," Santana murmured and smiled. "You would be the expert on what that looks like."

She tilted her head back to kiss the underside of Brittany's chin. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's middle, enjoying having the other girl settled between her legs and resting against her chest.

"Would you do it?" Brittany asked after a beat.

Santana's eyebrow arched flirtatiously and she twisted around on the couch to face her.

"Do what?"

"Leave it all behind," Brittany clarified. "If I turned up on the corner of Ambrosia Avenue in a big blue box and said 'get in' without saying where we were going, would you go?"

"Hell yes," Santana replied immediately.

"Even if you'd never met me before?" Brittany asked.

"Uh, yeah," Santana confirmed. "Have you seen yourself? A gorgeous girl turns up out of nowhere and says she wants me; I don't think I could get through that doorway fast enough."

The bridge of Brittany's nose scrunched when she giggled.

"I'm glad you'd be my Rose," she murmured and nuzzled Santana's hair. "Wouldn't it be so cool if I could make one of those? A machine that moves through time and space? I've been doing lots of drawings from this and Back to the Future, trying to find parts that look the same so maybe I could build one of my own."

"You really want to build a time machine, Britt-Britt?" Santana queried.

"Kinda," Brittany shrugged. "You know, 'cause there are a couple of things that I would want to make not happen…"

Brittany picked at a loose button on the cushion. Santana's expression became abruptly serious. She reached for Brittany's hand and held it tightly.

"Same here," she concurred. "I'd give anything to erase all the stuff in the past that hurt you."

"I think I could face it, you know?" Brittany said. "If I went back to the bad things to fix them. I don't think I'd be afraid if you were with me."

"Just one condition," Santana told her. "I wouldn't want to be called your 'companion.'"

"What title would you want?" Brittany inquired.

Santana met her gaze meaningfully.

"The one that I sort of have already, except that neither of us has said it out loud."

Brittany pressed her free palm against Santana's cheek.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Santana breathed shakily. "I mean, maybe not around everybody else just yet, but I want to be able to call you by it when we're alone. Plus I think I'd like hearing you call me that."

Brittany leaned in close until their noses touched.

"My girlfriend," she whispered happily.

Santana shivered and gave her a giddy grin.

"Mi novia," she said softly in return. "I was right. It feels amazing."

They kissed. Brittany reached blindly for the remote control, clumsily pressed the pause button, and then wrapped Santana in her arms.

"Perfect," she murmured into the mouth pressed against hers.

"I agree," Santana said playfully as she tugged on Brittany's lower lip with her teeth. "That is exactly what you are."

… … …

Quinn crossed her legs atop the low concrete wall and propped herself up with her hands as she enjoyed the July sunshine. Her new sunglasses were in place, shielding her from the glare, although her plaid and denim wardrobe was getting to be a bit much in the current humidity.

She shed her vest and folded it beside her. Then her hand plunged into a back pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes. Quinn slid one out and placed it between her lips. The lighter was halfway to its destination when a familiar cry reached her ears.

"Don't! Think of your voice!"

A lazy smile curled up the corners of Quinn's mouth. She turned to face her approaching classmate and tilted her shades down to inspect the girl over them.

"Hello, Rachel," she purred disinterestedly. "Come to save me from my new habit?"

"If no one else can be bothered to do so, then yes," Rachel answered defiantly. "I for one have every intention of ending my senior year holding the first place trophy from the National Show Choir Competition. Don't you?"

Quinn shrugged.

"You could get that with your voice by itself," she replied. "You don't need me for that."

"Of course I do!" Rachel protested. "Glee Club does need you, Quinn."

"For what purpose?" Quinn challenged. "To be part of the sea of voices? Look me in the eye, Rachel, and tell me that you can honestly pick my voice out in the crowd on that stage."

"I can," Rachel said immediately, meeting her gaze directly just as she had requested.

Quinn licked her lips and shoved the sunglasses back into place.

"Well, chalk it up to your highly trained ear, I guess," she said. "But most people couldn't. Besides, I told you before: you're the one that's going the distance. I'm not headed anywhere. All that effort to be the best I could and I'm still going to come out a Lima Loser. You might as well accept it. I have."

"I don't believe that," Rachel told her stubbornly. "Not even for a nanosecond. You've always had ambition, Quinn. I don't know what has got you going through this identity crisis right now, but it's going to pass. When it does, you'll be right back on top where you belong, taking the world by storm just like you've done since the day I met you."

"Whose life have you been watching?" Quinn marveled. "I'm a world class fuck up, Rachel."

The other girl winced at the profanity but let her friend continue to speak.

"No, seriously," Quinn pressed onward. "I got pregnant at fifteen, got kicked out of the house by my alcoholic father, had the baby at sixteen, moved back in with my boozy mother, went through a series of disastrous relationships with a couple of overgrown man-children and a sweet boy who didn't know what hit him, and then lost prom queen despite having my reputation turned completely upside down in the process of campaigning."

"That doesn't make you a… You're not as bad as you think," Rachel countered. "Honestly, the way you've held up through it all just proves how strong you are."

Quinn laughed humorlessly.

"Only because I had my sister. You don't believe me? Look at me now. She's only been out of the country for about six weeks and I'm a completely different person. I mean, that was sort of the point of the transformation The Mack and I worked on, but still -"

"It is a very different style from your usual taste," Rachel acknowledged. "But it doesn't tarnish who you are."

"Did you know that my daughter's first birthday was last month?" Quinn asked suddenly.

Rachel blinked in surprise and Quinn used the stunned silence as a chance to light her cigarette.

"Yep," Quinn said out of the corner of her mouth. "An entire year gone and I didn't see any of it. Not her first steps, not her first word – if she's had one – not her tiny birthday cake with the one candle on top. Nothing."

"I'm sure my mother would be open to—," Rachel began.

"It doesn't matter," Quinn cut her off. "Pictures don't count. A visit doesn't count. The point is that my daughter is being raised by someone else and, even though she may be related to someone I know, that doesn't make her any less of a stranger."

"You did what you thought was right," Rachel said kindly. "You gave her to someone who wanted a baby very badly, so much so that her teenage daughter couldn't satisfy that need for a child."

Quinn's expression was briefly sympathetic as she saw the pain flit across Rachel's features. Then she blew out a spiral of smoke and gestured toward the skate park beyond the fence behind her.

"My friend, The Mack," she said and pointed out the girl lacing her shoes. "Mackenzie from school – you remember her, right?"

Rachel nodded absently.

"She kept her baby," Quinn informed her. "You should see him. He's the cutest little boy ever. His name's Aydenn. I know Mackenzie doesn't look like she'd be the motherly sort but she has raised him so well. He's such a little gentleman."

Quinn took another drag from her cigarette and sighed through her nose.

"I look at him with Mackenzie and I think, 'That could've been me and Beth. She and Aydenn could have had play dates. I could tuck her in bed like that and read her stories. I could push her in the toddler swing at the park. I could've done it.'"

She sniffled and wiped angrily at her nose with the back of one gloved hand.

"I'm sure you could have," Rachel confirmed. "Someday you will, when you're older and ready to start a family of your own."

"But Beth is my family!" Quinn shot back passionately. "She was mine; I had her in my arms. The one thing I managed not to screw up in my pathetic failure of a life, and I gave her away. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"You chose what you knew she needed, not what you wanted for yourself," Rachel concluded. "I know the pain is going to stay with you, but maybe you could find some small comfort in knowing that your only act as her mother was a good one."

Quinn shrugged noncommittally and stared through the links of the fence.

"I've started seeing an older man," Quinn casually added. "Not in any serious sense, just spending some time together. There's a twenty-three year age difference. Well, there is until the tenth of August, anyway."

"When you turn eighteen," Rachel nodded. "But, Quinn, I don't think that's the best idea. I do understand the need for intellectual stimulation, especially for someone as intelligent as you are. Still… Don't you think he may tire of the discussions and want something more… physical?"

"That's why I'm never alone with him," Quinn replied. "I'm very careful with that. But, even if I weren't, why would it concern you?"

"Because you're my friend," Rachel answered sadly. "You're important to me. I can't stand seeing you so lost."

Quinn stood and threw her arms wide.

"Funny you should say that. Ever since I stopped telling myself I had to perfect, I finally feel found."

She drew level with Rachel, dropped her cigarette to the ground, and stamped it out with the toe of her boot.

"You should try it sometime," she quietly suggested. "Let go and just exist without thinking about what people will say."

Rachel held completely still and her eyelids fluttered when their torsos touched. Quinn smiled softly and then turned to go.

"Have a nice summer, Rachel," Quinn called over her shoulder as she walked away. "I'll see you at school. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

… … …

"This is complete bullshit!"

Santana sat on the cold edge of the Pierces' front porch and folded her arms across her chest. Brittany followed suit, tucking her legs underneath her body, and rubbed her girlfriend's arm consolingly.

"Co-Captains?" Santana fumed. "I have been working my ass off since day one and, my senior year, she wants me to share the spotlight with Becky Jackson?"

"I know you were really hoping, with Quinn not rejoining the Cheerios, that you'd be on top," Brittany acknowledged gently. "But… Isn't it kind of cool for Becky that she gets to lead with you? I mean, she wanted to be a cheerleader so bad and now she's going to be a captain. That's got to feel pretty awesome."

"I don't give a damn," Santana responded automatically, but then she looked at Brittany's face and sighed. "Okay, yes, I see her side. She gets a lot of crap for being different and now it's like this big, triumphant middle finger to all those people. But is it so awful to want her to wait and have her moment to shine next year after I'm gone? Does that make me a terrible person?"

Brittany took Santana's hand in hers and traced her thumb soothingly over the skin.

"No, it doesn't," she assured her gently. "All I'm saying is, now that it's happening this way, maybe don't spoil it for each other by fighting. Just enjoy it together, knowing you got this far. She's pretty cool, if you just give her a chance."

Santana pouted sulkily for a moment. Brittany nuzzled her neck and gave her a goofy smile.

"For me?" she wheedled.

Santana tried to scowl but it wouldn't stick and her lips turned upward in a smile.

"All right, all right," she conceded. "I'll try. I will really try. But if she starts it-"

"Then you'll introduce her to a little Lima Heights hospitality, just like you would with anyone else," Brittany finished for her.

"Exactly," Santana nodded.

Brittany gave her a quick kiss and a hug. Santana sighed exasperatedly and threw her head back.

"What's wrong now?" Brittany chuckled.

"Nothing. Just…," Santana paused and shook her head at herself, laughing loudly. "I am so fucking whipped."

Brittany's body shook with a silent chuckle and she planted a kiss on Santana's shoulder.

"There is one other thing," Santana confessed.

"What's that?"

"Sue wants me to sabotage the Glee Club," Santana expounded.

"What else is new?" Brittany joked with a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, I know, but she's not taking any chances that I might bail out this time."

Brittany's eyebrows drew close together.

"She threatened you," she deduced automatically. "What did Coach Sylvester say she would do?"

"Nothing... not directly," Santana answered. "But she said this really weird thing about me liking to play both sides. I'm pretty sure she was implying that she might start telling people... about how I am. Maybe even about you and me."

Brittany's jaw clenched but she nodded a little. This revelation did not shock her, given their history with the vindictive woman.

"Then you've got to do it," Brittany concluded regretfully. "She doesn't make empty threats. It would be too risky not to follow her instructions. I'll support you no matter what."

"What if it gets me into really big trouble?" Santana asked fearfully.

Brittany held both her hands and tenderly kissed her knuckles.

"Then I'll help you pick up all the pieces and put them back together again."

… … …

"Can I talk to you?"

Quinn briefly peered around her locker door and saw that Brittany was standing on the other side. She avoided the girl's penetrating blue eyes and resumed sorting through her books.

"Please?"

The second question was voiced more feebly than the first, almost begging. With a heavy sigh, Quinn grabbed her binder and closed the locker with a snap.

"What?" she demanded. Her tone was supposed to be clipped and irritable, but it inevitably softened when she saw her friend's face.

"Is something going on?" Brittany hazarded once the other teen's expression was less severe. "I mean, like, something you need to talk about?"

Quinn picked at the frayed end of her vest and averted her eyes.

"I don't really blame you for not wanting to come back to the Cheerios," Brittany continued. "But I thought we'd at least hang out sometimes, like we used to. You don't even say hi in the hallways anymore."

Still, Quinn gave no reply.

"Whatever it is, I bet Santana and I could help you… or just me, because I know you and Santana don't always like talking to each other about your feelings," Brittany said.

Slowly, Quinn lifted her gaze. She bit her lip as though legitimately considering the offer but then she sadly shook her head.

"C'mon, Quinn," Brittany begged and her fingers brushed her companion's wrist. "We've been friends since freshman year. I don't want it to end like this."

Quinn blinked her watery eyes and backed away.

"Look, Britt, I know you mean well and I appreciate it," she choked out through her constricting throat. "But it's no use. This is something I have to deal with on my own. Just leave it alone, okay?"

Brittany's expression was full of so much unspoken sympathy that it made Quinn's chest ache. A sob nearly tore past her lips as she whispered the last thing she had to say.

"You can't help me."

Then she spun around and intentionally disappeared in the crowd.

… … …

Santana made her way down the dual flights of stairs leading to the football field with some trepidation. She eyed the stands warily and jammed her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. As her feet left the concrete and crossed over into the grass, her nose wrinkled in distaste. Already, she could smell the mix of smoke and perfume.

She was entering the territory of the Skanks.

"Knock, knock," Santana called out sarcastically once she could see the girls gathered there in the semi-darkness.

"Hey, Quinn, you've got a visitor," Mackenzie announced.

Mackenzie hopped off a pile of cinder blocks and strolled over to where Santana was hovering and refusing to draw any nearer.

"You know, you're the second brunette to come sniffing around here looking for her," she remarked with a smirk. "The little one came by here not too long ago. The singer. I hope you're not planning on asking her to come back to that club, too."

"No," Santana snorted. "The opposite, actually. Where is she?"

"Right here," Quinn piped up as she emerged from the shadows.

"Hey, Quinn," Santana greeted awkwardly.

Quinn nodded a greeting and rolled an unlit cigarette back and forth between her fingertips.

"Brittany didn't send you, did she?" Quinn asked.

"No," Santana answered. "She told me what you said, though, about wanting to be alone for a while. Britt was pretty upset."

Quinn chewed on her lip.

"So then why are you here?" she inquired after a moment.

"It's about a favor," Santana said in an undertone, eyeing the Skanks. "Can we talk out there?"

She jerked her head over her shoulder.

Quinn shrugged and walked past Santana into the sunlight. Her friend followed suit.

A breeze blew through and ruffled their hair as Quinn leaned idly against the railing on the bleachers. She lifted her eyebrows expectantly. Santana shook her head at the show her companion was putting on in view of the other girls, but made no audible comment on the matter.

"It's about the Cheerios," Santana prefaced.

Quinn sighed exasperatedly.

"I already told you. I don't want -"

"Not about rejoining," Santana cut her off abruptly. "I'm... I'm in a little bit of a bind right now. I need your help."

Quinn tucked her cigarette behind her ear.

"What kind of a bind?"

"The kind you and I know better than anybody when it comes to Sue Sylvester," Santana told her with a slight curl in her lip.

"Extortion," Quinn said simply and nodded. "What's on the table this time?"

Santana ducked her head and looked up fearfully through her eyelashes. The color drained from Quinn's face and her jaw dropped.

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah," Santana concurred, trying to force a laugh.

Quinn fished a box of matches out of her messenger bag and struck one on the heel of her shoe. She took the cigarette out from behind her ear and lit it.

"What do you need me to do?"

… … …

"Well, that's that," Santana mumbled gloomily and scuffed her shoe on the concrete.

She and Brittany were sitting on the curb outside of school with their arms linked as they huddled close together.

"He'll change his mind eventually," Brittany said. "You know how Mr. Schue gets. He goes all crazy when he's mad but then he cools off after a while."

"I'm just glad he didn't go after you too much," Santana told her. "I was afraid he was going to get pissed that you knew and didn't say anything. I guess it helped that you weren't one of the ones who actually lit the piano on fire."

"The water sign excuse wasn't the best because you're one, too, but it was all I could think of back there," Brittany shrugged.

"I don't think Mr. Schuester is concerned about the Zodiac, Britt," Santana laughed a little.

"Probably not," Brittany agreed and rubbed the back of her neck.

Loud, repetitive slamming echoed across the parking lot and they both looked up for the source of the sound. A short distance away, they saw a diminutive girl with light brown hair and a prominent nose opening and shutting the door of her Nissan Infiniti Hybrid with enough force that it shook the whole vehicle.

"That's the girl from the Glee auditions this week," Brittany told Santana quietly. "Sugar Motta."

"Oh yeah," Santana nodded vaguely. "The tone deaf little dodo that left dogs howling three states over."

Brittany gave her a reprimanding nudge in the ribs.

"She looks really upset," Brittany noted fretfully.

"I would be too if my voice made people's ears bleed."

Santana remained behind while Brittany approached the girl. Hesitantly, Brittany reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

Sugar yelped as she turned around and tumbled backward into her car, hitting her head as she fell.

"Ow," Sugar winced.

"I'm so sorry," Brittany apologized. "I was just coming over to check and see if you were okay."

Sugar's eyes widened when she finally saw who was addressing her and she nodded mutely. Brittany offered a hand and helped her stand upright again.

"I was just venting my frustrations," Sugar laughed self-consciously. "I, um, got some bad news and I'm still not totally over it."

"What happened?" Brittany asked gently.

"Mr. Schue won't let me be in your Glee Club," Sugar pouted.

"Oh," Brittany murmured and nodded.

"I kinda told him he was a washed up Broadway wannabe," Sugar confessed.

Santana, who had walked a little closer to eavesdrop on the exchange, guffawed and clapped her approval. Sugar bit her lip and shot the other teen a quick smile.

"I wouldn't care so much, I guess, but it's just that I've really got to get into the New Directions. It's important," Sugar told Brittany.

Brittany tilted her head to one side.

"How come?"

Sugar shuffled her feet and looked down at the ground.

"My parents. I wanna make them happy."

"I'm sure they'd be proud of you no matter what," Brittany said optimistically.

"That's exactly what my mom would say," Sugar beamed. "I know things didn't get off to the best start, but I'm not gonna give up."

Santana finally caved and walked the rest of the way over to them. She leaned against Sugar's car with her arms crossed and nodded emphatically.

"That's the spirit, Mrs. Ricardo," she teased.

Brittany gave her a sideways glance and Santana hastened to make amends.

"Seriously, though," Santana continued, and now she looked directly at Brittany with a gentle smile. "If you want something bad enough, you can't let anything or anyone stand in your way."

… … …

Puck popped up the collar of his jacket and walked toward the back entrance to the gym. As he neared his destination, a strange hissing noise drifted up the stairwell. He passed the chainlink fence and peered down into the shadows. There, on the landing halfway down to the back door, was a girl who looked vaguely familiar although he had difficulty remembering her name. It was one of Quinn's new friends, the smallest of the Skanks. M something... Mackenzie.

"Spray paint," he noted with a half smile of approval. "Not bad, for a rookie delinquent."

Mackenzie scarcely spared him a glance as she continued to work.

"I don't make my art to make trouble; I make it to express myself."

"Then why do it on school property and not sign your name?" Puck challenged.

Mackenzie ran her tongue over her teeth and lowered the can, squinting up at him in the bright afternoon sunlight.

"Fair enough," she shrugged. "Maybe I do want it to raise a little hell."

Puck sat on the metal railing and slid down to where she stood. He hopped lightly to his feet and surveyed her handiwork.

"It looks... old," he murmured. "Like something out of that damn Art History book I had to lug around last year."

"It's Medusa," Mackenzie explained. "Y'know, before the snake hair and the whole turning-guys-to-stone thing. That's Athena up there condemning her for descrating her temple, which was total bullshit because Poseidon was the one who didn't take no for an answer."

She carefully restored the lid to the can and placed it in her backpack, where a dozen other colors were stored.

"We read that stuff and we wanna think that asshole way of thinking is antiquated, but it's really not," Mackenzie continued, taking her time zipping the backpack closed. "Even the times when it is All Systems Go on both sides, if the shit hits the fan, the girl's always got to pay and the guy gets off scot-free."

Puck quickly reached into his backpocket and produced a joint and a lighter.

"Yeah, there are way too many deadbeats out there," he concurred as the spliff restored his calm.

Mackenzie shouldered the backpack.

"I know who you are," she said with her mouth pressed into a thin line. "You're the manwhore who knocked up my friend Quinn."

"Yeah, but I didn't abandon her," Puck immediately protested. "She's the one who gave the baby away, not me."

Mackenzie held a hand aloft.

"Cool it, 'Fro-hawk, she told me," she interjected. "Turns out sometimes becoming a baby daddy brings out the best in a guy. News to me, but I take her word for it."

Some of the tension left Puck's shoulders. He gestured to the joint and lifted his eyebrows.

"Want one?"

"Not a whole one, just a hit," Mackenzie replied.

She reached and plucked it out of his mouth without another word. As she took a long drag, Puck watched her bemusedly.

"Speaking of... of Beth... That's actually why I stopped by," Puck said. "Do you know where I can find Quinn? There's something she needs to know before it's staring her in the face."

"Before what's staring me in the face?" a familiar voice called.

They both turned and saw Quinn at the top of the stairs.

"Shelby's back," Puck announced without preamble. "She's working here at McKinley. I saw her through the doorway to a classroom and almost shat my pants."

"Here?" Quinn clarified as suppressed emotion briefly flickered in her eyes. "You're positive?"

"Yeah," Puck nodded. "It's on people's schedules and everything. I grabbed a freshman on his way to first period just to make sure."

Quinn sat abruptly on the top step and ran her hands through her hair.

"I think we should see her," Puck declared. "You and me, we should talk to her together. We could visit Beth. I wanna try."

Quinn glanced up tearfully but her gaze did not go to Puck's. She looked instead to her friend behind him. Mackenzie met her eyes and gave a quick wink.

"Okay," Quinn sighed. "Tomorrow morning, ten 'til eight. I'll meet you in front of school."

… … ...

"That's it. I'm officially, one hundred percent convinced. We are surrounded by idiots," Santana concluded after their political science class.

"Only now our teacher thinks I'm the one who's the idiot," Brittany grumbled and hugged her binder to her chest.

"You were totally right to give her sarcastic responses," Santana said as her nostrils flared. "What's the capital of Ohio? What the hell kind of question is that when we are in our fucking senior year of high school? That bitch needs to retire."

"It doesn't matter," Brittany concluded, albeit not altogether convincingly. "The class thought I meant it. Almost everyone in this school thinks I never should have passed the first grade. They've seen me that way for a really long time, and I haven't failed a year yet."

Santana looped her arm through Brittany's and sighed heavily.

"I wanted this to be the year that changed things for us," she admitted. "I wanted this to be when things turned around for good, but this place is the same disappointment it always was."

"Actually," Brittany prefaced while she traced her thumb over Santana's arm. "I've been doing a lot of thinking about that. You know how Kurt says he wants to run for senior class president?"

"Yeah."

"I want to be his campaign manager," Brittany declared with a smile. "I've been really paying attention to what we read from our text book; I've been watching the news, and I think I could do it. Kurt's got the chance to make a real difference. He could encourage outsiders to have a voice."

Santana's grip on Brittany's arm tightened. She sucked on her bottom lip.

"What's your idea for his campaign?"

"I think he should use his platform to get people to embrace their individuality, the way that he does every day," Brittany explained. "Something like 'What makes you different makes all the difference.' I don't know. I'm not even sure if he'll be into it."

"It would be a pretty bold move," Santana acknowledged. "Especially considering what he went through last year. But it's senior year, now or never, take your chance while it's still there to take. Maybe Kurt will see it that way, too. I say you go for it. Pitch your idea and see what he says."

Brittany's face lit up and she bounced excitedly on her feet.

"Awesome," she grinned. "Then I'll ask him first thing tomorrow morning."

… … …

"I have to admit, I was starting to think I'd never hear from you," Rachel confessed as she stepped over the threshold into the Fabrays' house.

"Yeah, well, it was definitely a conversation I was putting off having," Quinn said and turned immediately to lead the way upstairs. "But I could use a little help with this and I didn't feel like hearing Santana's never-ending mixture of teasing and complaining about being stained her least favorite color."

"Yes, she does have a unique way of blending positive and negative," Rachel replied carefully, mindful not to openly criticize one of the other girl's friends.

Quinn chuckled and shook her head.

"That's one way of putting it."

Quinn briefly stopped by her room to snatch a bottle off her dresser and took some old towels from the hall closet. Rachel followed her to the bathroom and perched lightly on the closed toilet seat.

"So, where should we begin?" Rachel queried while her friend locked the door.

"Basically, I'm gonna lather, rinse, and repeat the crap out of my hair until the color starts to fade," Quinn elaborated. "Then, I'm going to have you help me use peroxide to get it back to blonde again."

"Won't some of those things stain your tub?" Rachel asked fretfully.

Quinn shrugged.

"If it does, I'll take care of it later. I'm the only one that uses this bathroom. Mom goes in the master bath and guests use the one downstairs. Don't wring your hands. You look like you're waiting for bad news from a doctor."

She took Rachel's hands in hers to still their movement.

"Sorry," Rachel murmured. "I just hope I don't somehow make it worse. I've never done this before today."

"Don't worry," Quinn reassured kindly. "Worst case scenario, I wind up looking like Frenchy during Beauty School Drop Out."

Rachel giggled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Then she glanced up and the color drained from her face as she saw that Quinn was pulling off her shirt.

"I apologize for any indecent exposure," Quinn joked in a muffled voice while the top was still covering her face. "But if I get hot pink in any of my clothes, my mother will have my head on a spike out on the front lawn."

"That's okay," Rachel replied hastily. "I don't mind... um... I mean, I'm sure the black undergarments hide stains very well."

"My thoughts exactly," Quinn said with a strangely playful smile. She unzipped her pants and let them drop to the tiles underfoot.

Rachel gulped and hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her kneecaps.

Quinn stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed before she turned on the spigot. She closed her eyes and let the warm water rain down onto her skin.

"Now, according to the outside of the box, this is supposed to come out in approximately twenty-eight washes," she called over the sound of the spray. "I've been adding a couple of extra rounds each morning, so I should only have about seven more to go. I got the generic anti-dandruff kind because it's supposed to help strip the color."

"Why the sudden decision to change?" Rachel inquired. "If you don't mind me asking..."

There was no sound but the water for a few moments. When Quinn finally did respond, there was a strain in her voice.

"Shelby is back in Lima."

Rachel traced the pattern on her leggings as her lower lip protruded.

"I've seen her," she acknowledged.

"I was afraid you might have," Quinn said sympathetically. "Puck and I did, too. We stopped by her room and, well, let's just say she isn't a fan of the new look."

"You talked about Beth?" Rachel correctly guessed.

"... Yeah," Quinn answered. "She doesn't want me seeing her when I look like the love child of Cyndi Lauper and Sid Vicious, so the dye's gotta go."

"I think it's kind of admirable, what you're doing," Rachel complimented. "Pulling yourself out of a downward spiral for the love of your daughter."

The curtain folded back at the corner and Quinn's head appeared in the opening with her hair covered in thick suds.

"You think I'm in a downward spiral?" she asked faintly.

"Perhaps that was too strong a way to put it," Rachel amended. "You've just been struggling, that's all."

Quinn shook her head a little.

"No, it's not inaccurate. It's still a hell of a lot nicer than calling me a trainwreck like Mr. Schue."

"What?!" Rachel exclaimed.

Quinn disappeared behind the curtain again and resumed washing her hair.

"Uh huh," she confirmed while her fingers worked the soap down to the roots. "Of course, I suppose he'd say I brought it on myself working alongside Sue Sylvester."

"Was it because of the piano fire incident?" Rachel asked. "Is that why he was so angry?"

"I'm sure that didn't help, but this particular assessment of me came after I helped make an anti-arts video."

"But you love the arts," Rachel protested.

"Yeah, I do," Quinn confessed and laughed bitterly. "It was stupid, I know. I was just feeling really pissed off and lonely when she came around and I guess I was looking for something good to blame. I don't know whose attention I thought it'd get me."

"Is she going to use the footage?" Rachel asked.

"Not anymore," Quinn said with a triumphant smile. "The Skanks and I broke into her office and stole the tapes. I ran them over with my Volkswagen."

Rachel found herself smiling, too.

"So what happens next?"

"Now," Quinn replied and abruptly pulled back the curtain. "We see if you can help me get myself back to normal."

Rachel stared for a moment at Quinn, dripping wet with rivulets of dye running down her body.

"I'll try my best," she mumbled.

Quinn grabbed one of the towels and draped it over her shoulders. The second one she spread along the edge of the tub and settled gingerly upon it.

"Can you reach me?"

"Um... Yeah," Rachel nodded and grabbed the peroxide on the edge of the sink.

"Oh! I almost forgot. There's a pair of plastic gloves I bought for you to wear," Quinn informed her. "They're in that cabinet up above."

"Thank you," Rachel said sincerely. "You didn't have to do that."

Quinn leaned back until she could look at the other girl upside down and give her a sweet smile.

"Hey, you're spending an afternoon with smelly hair products and only me for company. Saving your skin is the least I could do."

… … …

"Candles?" Santana giggled when she walked into the room.

"Mm-hmm," Brittany verified, carefully lighting the last one with a match from the box in her hand. "You made me feel better when Kurt and I had creative differences about his campaign, and you're the one who convinced me I could run for president myself. I wanted to do something special to say thank you."

She doubled back to the door, locked it, and pushed the lightswitch down. The only lights remaining were the burning candles and the pale yellow of the afternoon sunshine seeping through the blinds. The warm water in the tub reflected the glow.

"This is incredible," Santana murmured.

Brittany beamed proudly. Then she moved to stand behind Santana and help her with the zipper on her uniform. Santana shivered but stood perfectly still while Brittany left a trail of soft kisses along her spine before unfastening her bra and sliding it down her arms along with the uniform top. The skirt and her underwear were next to go, pooling around her bare feet and leaving her completely exposed. Brittany shed her own clothes in half the time and turned Santana to face her, kissing her deeply before taking her hand and leading her to the tub. She'd already taken the precaution of spreading a thick towel underfoot, anticipating the possibility of an overflow.

Fitting their bodies comfortably in the small space posed a slight challenge. Brittany spread her legs until they touched the walls of the tub. Then Santana settled at the opposite end, stretching out her own legs until the ankles came to rest on Brittany's hips. Unable to resist the temptation, Brittany ran her hands along Santana's calves and stared at the way her skin gleamed in the candlelight.

Santana closed her eyes for a moment, simply savoring the touch and the relaxation of the bath. Then the caresses stopped, and she peeped out of her closed eyelids. Brittany was looking directly at her and biting her lip. Santana felt her face grow warm as she smiled.

"Ms. Pierce, you're trying to seduce me," she teased.

"Is it working?" Brittany asked quietly.

Santana scooted across the tub until her knees were bent vertically and she and Brittany were nearly nose to nose. Brittany closed her eyes just before Santana's lips touched hers, and she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend's neck. When Brittany's tongue slid into her mouth, Santana grunted and immediately began trying to rearrange her legs. They giggled between kisses while they clumsily adjusted themselves. Brittany lifted her legs to rest on Santana's shoulders and Santana held onto them for leverage as she rose to her knees and spread her thighs.

The first thrust was a little overzealous and snuffed out a couple of the nearby candles with the resultant wave. Santana gave Brittany an apologetical look, but the other girl wriggled encouragingly in an unspoken plea not to stop. When Santana moved again, it was a slower and lingering contact. She focused on maintaining her balance and clung tightly to Brittany's skin. However, when Brittany let out the faintest whimper and her hips twitched involuntarily, Santana forgot about her efforts to be tidy and thrust once more in earnest.

Water sloshed around her waist and lapped against their bodies before spilling over the ledge and soaking the waiting towel. Brittany's hands were sliding ineffectively along the tub's edge as she struggled to find someplace to grasp. Santana fought against the instinct to shut her eyes, transfixed by the way Brittany's lips had parted into a perfect circle.

Brittany's climax was nearly silent, perfected over the years to a solitary gasp that was not likely to be overheard. Santana, however, had always struggled to keep quiet. She swore under her breath and dug her fingers into her girlfriend's flesh, leaving pale pressure marks beneath her grip.

When it was over, Brittany resumed her former position with her legs running parallel to the outer edge of the tub, and Santana settled between them with her head resting on the other girl's shoulder. Brittany traced the contours of Santana's body then tickled along her abdomen and between her breasts until every inch was covered in goosebumps. Santana kissed the underside of her chin and sighed contentedly.

They remained in that embrace until the candles were burning low and the light outside the window had gone from gold to fiery orange. Finally, Brittany planted a tender kiss on Santana's shoulder and they both carefully climbed out of the tub. Brittany opened the blinds a little more before she circled the room and extinguished the flickering flames. Santana grabbed some fresh towels and fanned them out across the tiles to prevent either of them from slipping. The fuzzy cloth was pleasantly soft to walk on while they tidied the mess they had made.

Santana was wringing out her hair when she noticed that Brittany had crossed the room to look into the cabinet mirror over the sink.

"What are you doing Britt-Britt?" she asked quietly.

Brittany had opened the left and right doors of the cabinet, leaving the middle closed, and was staring in fascination at her reflection.

"Come here for a second," Brittany urged her.

Santana complied and walked to where she stood. She wrapped the girl in her arms from behind.

"What is it?"

"Look."

Brittany jerked her head toward the mirror and Santana followed her gaze. Now she could see what had captured her girlfriend's attention. While the doors were angled this way, their reflections were multiplied countless times over in the glass. It was just her and Brittany, side-by-side again and again, on into eternity. Santana admired the way the sunlight through the window gave things an otherworldly glow, and she could distinguish the two of them, intertwined and incandescent in this realm that was all their own.

"It's beautiful," she whispered into Brittany's ear.

Brittany nodded and twisted around to face her. She knotted her fingers together behind Santana's back and pulled her close. Santana sighed at the way their bodies slid into place against one another so easily. Brittany pressed a deep kiss to her lips, and Santana draped her arms around the other girl's neck as she reciprocated.

More than anything, she wished the world could know what went on inside of her when she was with Brittany at times like this. If they could just feel the tightness in her chest, and the pleasant warmth that coursed through her like a second pulse, surely they would have to understand. Unfortunately, she knew it was not yet time for that aspect of their relationship to leave the privacy of their respective homes. Still, in that moment, Santana found it comforting to think that – at least in their reflections – this embrace could last forever.

… … …

"She lives!"

Brittany's and Santana's faces both broke into irrepressible grins the first time they saw Quinn with her hair color restored. She pretended to smooth a wrinkle in the fabric of her dress and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," she muttered. "Shutting you two out was one of the biggest mistakes I made in all of this. I-"

Her sentence was cut off as a pair of long arms immediately wrapped around her middle and squeezed her lovingly. Another embrace followed that one, draping around her shoulders.

"We missed you," Brittany said.

"It's good to have you back," Santana added.

Quinn blinked her watery eyes and smiled.

"Thank you."

"So who finally pinned you down and took some peroxide to that mane?" Santana joked.

"Um, Rachel helped me with it, actually," Quinn answered.

"Oh, really?" Santana waggled her eyebrows.

"It was just to help a friend," Quinn said. "Nothing more."

"You had her all to yourself, alone in your house, and you didn't make a move?" Santana cried exasperatedly.

"Our friendship is on unsteady ground as it is," Quinn protested miserably, glancing around the vacant school courtyard to verify that they were alone. "I can't afford to scare her off, especially since I've been acting like a lunatic lately anway."

"But there was at least some touching, right?" Santana queried. "While you were getting your hair back to normal."

"She did see me in my bra and underwear," Quinn shrugged as her face turned red.

Santana crowed triumphantly and clapped her hands.

"That's a start!"

"What made you change your mind about how you look?" Brittany inquired while keeping one arm lightly wrapped around her friend.

"I want to see Beth," Quinn confessed. "Shelby made it sound like, if I could get my act together, there's a chance."

"Has she seen you since you washed the dye out?" Brittany asked.

"Not yet," Quinn replied. "I'm going to show her soon and offer to babysit sometime next week. Puck will watch Beth with me. He visited once already and it went well, so maybe that will persuade Shelby to say yes."

"Are you sure you're ready for it?" Santana checked. "This is big. It'll be the first time you've even held her since the hospital."

"Yeah. I mean, I'm nervous... scared... but also kinda excited," Quinn said. "It's like, when I actually have her in my arms, maybe I won't feel like I have a hole in my chest anymore. I'll feel complete. At least, I hope so. I'm just really afraid she won't even recognize me anymore. If she cries, I think it might kill me."

"She might a little at first," Brittany cautioned and reached down to hold her hand. "But it will pass."

Quinn nodded absently and tried to feel reassured.

"It's going to be good. She'll remember. When she feels how much I love her and care about her, it'll come back. I know it."

… … …

"You. Were. Amazing!" Santana shouted over the sound of the students spilling out of the auditorium. "That'll teach that bitch ass Hummel not to say that nobody takes you seriously!"

"I think I at least got everyone's attention with my dancing," Brittany admitted humbly. "I wasn't even sure I had the choreography down yet. Helping Mercedes audition for the musical and working on campaign posters has filled up so much of my time that I didn't get to rehearse that much. Thanks again for helping me pick what to wear."

"Well, I've gotta admit, I may have had a teeny bit of an ulterior motive suggesting thigh highs and garters," Santana purred in her ear. "You looked so hot out there, baby."

Brittany flushed with pleasure.

"That's the first time you've ever called me that," she said softly.

Santana's eyes widened and she stammered as she readjusted her high pony.

"It just sort of felt right in the moment."

Brittany nudged Santana in the ribs.

"I liked it."

The embarrassment in Santana's expression vanished and gave way to an eager smile.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Santana reached down as if she were about to grab Brittany's hand. At the last minute, she simply grazed her fingers along the other girl's palm before interlocking their pinkies. Brittany smiled back and gave her finger an encouraging squeeze.

"Hey, Pierce!"

They both turned to see Rick "The Stick" Nelson, captain of the hockey team, approaching. He smoothed the back of his mullet and gave the girls a cocky grin.

"Not bad, back there," he praised. "Shaking it around in that barely-there skirt. If I wasn't in the running myself, you'd have my vote."

"I didn't wear it for you," Brittany said in a low voice as her ears turned pink.

"The only place that top would look better is on the locker room floor," Rick continued as if she hadn't spoken. "The room is deserted if you've got a few minutes to spare. I have a recent poll that predicts you'll come out ahead."

Santana's hand balled into a fist at her side but, before she could move, Brittany turned to face Rick.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Why not?" Rick laughed. "I thought your schedule was always free, provided some football player hadn't gotten there first to fill in the slot."

"I don't do that anymore," Brittany stated defiantly.

"You making another failed attempt at monogamy?" Rick chortled. "Hopefully not with some crippled nerd again. I know pickings can be slim sometimes, but that was just sad."

"I'm not letting guys like you have sex with me because they don't deserve to be touched by anyone," Brittany overrode him.

Rick fell silent immediately and Santana watched in awe.

"It's not okay to hurt somebody to make yourself feel better," Brittany continued. "And it's even worse to think they should have to earn your approval after treating them that way. This is exactly why I want to run for class president, to turn things around so guys like you can't walk through the halls bringing everybody down and laughing in their faces."

Rick started to speak again but Brittany held a hand aloft.

"Don't," she commanded. "Nothing you have to say will make a difference. You can't touch me."

Then she turned, linked her arm with Santana's, and walked away. Santana gaped at her and remained utterly speechless.

"That felt good," Brittany murmured.

"Hell yeah!" Santana exclaimed. "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know," Brittany admitted. "I just... I don't need to prove myself to any of them anymore. They don't love me, so why should I care what they think of me? Doing what I used to do never changed anything anyway. They still called me names and said bad things about me."

Santana nodded and rubbed Brittany's arm.

"I'm good enough for my family, my friends, and my girlfriend," Brittany continued, adding the last two words in a quieter voice. "I heard the way he was talking to me after I just did something really cool and important, and it made me see how the people who respect me are the only ones who should really matter."

Santana took a deep breath and stretched her arm out to weave her fingers through Brittany's, just for a moment.

"I'm so proud of you," she said earnestly.

"Thanks," Brittany mumbled and blushed. "I think I'm a little proud of me, too."

… … …

It was just as she had feared most.

The minute that Beth was in Quinn's arms, she burst into tears. Quinn felt as though a knife were twisting deep into her gut. She heard the door click behind Shelby and looked to Puck desperately.

"It's okay," he assured her. "Beth was a little iffy about me for a while too, but she comes around once she finally gets used to you."

"What should I do until then?" Quinn asked woefully. "She's crying her heart out."

"Try what Shelby said," Puck suggested. "Sing Itsy Bitsy Spider."

Quinn chewed on her lip. She cradled Beth close and rested her head against the child's soft curls. Following an impulse, Quinn rubbed Beth's back in small, soothing circles.

"The itsy bitsy spider

Climbed up the water spout

Down came the rain

And washed the spider out..."'

She paused hopefully and glanced down at Beth. The baby was studying her intently with large, unblinking blue eyes. Tentatively, Quinn smiled at her. Beth smiled back and reached out to touch the young woman's mouth. Quinn gently kissed her tiny fingertips and finished the song.

"Out came the sun

And dried up all the rain

And the itsy bitsy spider

Climbed up the spout again."

Beth rested her head against Quinn's chest and gripped her cross necklace. Puck clapped.

"She stopped crying," Quinn marveled breathlessly.

"See? What did I tell you?" Puck said. "She's a little snuggle bug."

Quinn kissed Beth's cheek and shut her eyes to hide the tears from Puck's view. He busied himself with checking his phone and pretended not to notice.

"It's almost time for her next bottle," he noted. "I can heat it up, if you wanna try feeding her."

"Really?" Quinn asked happily.

"Yeah, no problem," Puck shrugged.

"Are you ready for something yummy for your tummy?" Quinn asked sweetly. Beth did not react, still captivated by the sparkling necklace in her grasp.

"I hope you weren't attached to that," Puck called over his shoulder as he went into the kitchen. "'Cause she won't let that thing leave the apartment now. She's gonna call dibs."

Quinn laughed.

"Already a diamond girl, huh?" she murmured in Beth's ear.

"Hey, Quinn?" Puck called from where he stood in front of the sink.

"Yeah?"

"That friend of yours I met," he prefaced. "The one with the black hair and the spray cans..."

"Mackenzie," Quinn supplied.

"Yeah, her. What's her story? She kept talking about guys being assholes since the dawn of time and how they leave the girl holding the bag."

"She had a really rough time of it sophomore year. Worse than me, even. Her parents are constantly fighting and, if Mack or her two younger brothers happen to be around, they wind up taking it out on them. They've ended up in the hospital a couple of times," Quinn told him. "She started visiting the skate park just to get out of the house. Anyway, she met this guy who was a few years older than her and they started dating. Then, when she ended up pregnant, she called him to tell him the news. He didn't answer. Mackenzie went by his house, looked for him everywhere, and nothing. Eventually she found out he had left town without even saying goodbye."

"What a dick," Puck grumbled and then winced when he realized that Beth might have heard. "No wonder she's not friendly."

"Mackenzie's a really good person, though," Quinn said. "She loves her little boy like he's the only light in the whole world."

Puck looked at Beth in Quinn's arms and smiled softly.

"Yeah, I bet," he murmured.

"Why the sudden interest?" Quinn asked.

"No reason," Puck replied and vigorously stirred the formula in the bottle.

Quinn raised an eyebrow and looked at him steadily.

"Don't do that," Puck pleaded. "You and your built-in B.S. detector are gonna be the death of me. I asked because I was curious, all right? She was acting all sad and stuff and I wanted to know why."

"I see," Quinn teased. "So it has nothing at all to do with her having a cute smile, big brown eyes, and dancer's thighs."

"Keep it up and I'm going to revoke your bottle feeding privileges," Puck retored as he twisted the lid into place.

"All right, all right," Quinn conceded. "I'll behave. Mum's the word."

She rose and walked toward the rocking chair. Upon studying the seat and considering what she was preparing to do, Quinn hesitated.

"How do I sit so my arm won't start hurting or falling asleep?"

"I'll show you," Puck offered. "Go ahead and sit with Beth."

"Your bottle is here," Quinn cooed to the baby. "Oh, and not a moment too soon! Give me that necklace back, sweetie. You don't want to chew on that. Yucky."

Puck grabbed a pillow off the end of the couch and propped Quinn's arm up with it. He made sure she and Beth were comfortably situated and then handed her the bottle.

"There you go," he declared. "You're all set."

"Just like this?" Quinn checked nervously.

"Uh huh," Puck nodded. "You should have seen me the first time I tried. Shelby said I was a natural. I even burped her the right way. Most guys either pat too hard or too easy, but I got her to make a sound like a bullfrog in ten seconds flat."

"Very impressive," Quinn giggled.

They both fell silent for a minute as Beth drank, watching her eyelids grow heavy and listening to her quiet breathing.

"Do you think we could have done it?" Quinn asked.

"Been a family?" Puck surmised. "I've gotta admit, I've thought about that so many times since sophomore year. The thing is, then I got to know Shelby and see how she is with her and... I mean, yeah, I'll always be a little sad things weren't different but... I know we did the right thing for her."

Quinn bobbed her head, but there was a slight frown at the corners of her lips.

"A part of me still wishes I could whisk her away," Quinn confided. "Just buy a crappy apartment someplace and be together."

"Yeah, but that's not your life," Puck said. "You're not gonna be one of the people who winds up stuck in this place."

"I'm not so sure," Quinn muttered. "Everybody has their big plans! Colleges, New York, and you're thinking about taking your pool cleaning business out to California, right? I mean, what do I have?"

"Anything you want," Puck insisted. "Quinn, have you seen your grades? You're probably gonna be frickin' valedictorian."

Quinn shook her head slowly.

"Good grades don't always equal a good future," Quinn argued. "You can take all the advanced courses and still wind up flipping burgers at McDonald's."

Puck's brow furrowed and he jammed his hands in his pockets.

"Beth is perfect. She's my perfect thing," Quinn continued and gently caressed the back of the now sleeping baby's head. "Something even I can't screw up. Do you know how hard it is to do something perfectly? I'll never get the chance again. So it's hard not to think how it would be. I imagine that alternate reality and it's like, even if I never left this town or accomplished anything, I'd have her to call mine."

Puck sat on the arm of the couch and clasped his hands together.

"You've just gotta give yourself more credit," Puck insisted. "Sure - and don't take this the wrong way - you can go batshit crazy from time to time, but you're also the smartest girl I've ever met in my entire life. The problem is you don't let yourself dream big, 'cause you figure the higher you aim the farther you can fall."

Quinn averted her gaze and chewed on her lip.

"Seriously," Puck said. "You could go Ivy League, Quinn, if you really wanted. Honestly, I've seen you under pressure and I've seen you at your most driven. If you had your eye on something, there isn't a force between Heaven and Hell that could keep you from it."

"Why are you still so good to me?" Quinn whispered. "All the advice, the encouragement, the blind faith... I haven't earned it."

"Look, I know two years ago that I was not father material, no matter how badly I wanted to believe I was," Puck replied. "But I meant what I said. I loved you. First love... It's a big deal, and it sticks even after it's over for good. You can go through a lot of shit, but you have each other's back when it really counts."

Quinn smiled softly.

"Yeah, I guess so," she concurred. "I meant what I said back then too, you know. You're special and romantic."

Puck made a dismissive sound and waved his hand.

"No, really, you are," Quinn asserted. "You've grown into a really good man, the kind anybody would be lucky to have. If that somebody turns out to be Mackenzie Palladino, well, so much the better."

Puck scowled and lightly kicked Quinn's shoe. She laughed quietly to avoid waking Beth and held her free hand up in mock surrender.

"Last one, I promise!"

… … …

Santana heaved a heavy sigh and folded her arms under her head while Brittany massaged her back. Beside her, Lord Tubbington practiced some massaging of his own, kneading the blankets beneath his paws until they were arranged to his liking. He curled into a ball and closed his eyes, purring as he fell almost immediately asleep.

"Hey, baby?" Santana said tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"I have a question. It's okay if you want to think about it. It's just something I've been mulling over," Santana prefaced.

"Yes, I think we'd probably better have two kids so the first one doesn't get lonely," Brittany half-joked.

Santana laughed.

"No, nothing like that. Although you're probably right. It's actually about something that's happening right now. Or, it could be, if you agree with me, because I won't do it if you aren't onboard."

"I'm confused," Brittany said as her brow furrowed. "Why don't you tell me what it is, and then maybe I can help you?"

"You know how Shelby Corcoran is teaching at McKinley now, and how she's trying to start that all-girl singing group?" Santana asked.

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "The one Sugar Motta wanted since she couldn't get into New Directions. Now they've got Mercedes too, ever since she didn't get the part in the musical and Mr. Schue was so mean to her in Booty Camp."

"Exactly," Santana confirmed. "Well, I've been kind of thinking that Mercedes had the right idea. Ever since Blaine joined the New Directions after he transfered, it's been pretty clear only he and Rachel will get showcased this year. I don't want that to be how I go out, you know? If this is the last year I'm going to have a shot at being on a stage, I want to be standing at the center of it."

Brittany stopped massaging Santana and stretched out beside her on the mattress. She reached for Santana's hand and wove their fingers together.

"I don't know," she said reluctantly. "I'd feel kinda bad leaving all our friends after we've come this far."

Santana lowered her eyes and nodded despondently.

"But," Brittany continued. "They'll still be our friends even if we're not in the club. You might not get the solos you want in New Directions. In Ms. Corcoran's group, there are almost no other members so you'd have a super good chance."

Santana looked up again and her face was alight with hope.

"You really think so?"

"I know so," Brittany replied and kissed the knuckles of her fingers. "You'd finally get to be a star, just like you deserve. That's your dream, Santana. I want you to have what you want from life more than anything. I'll do it."

"You'll join with me?" Santana exclaimed, voice squeaking with delight.

"Of course," Brittany answered.

Santana sprang up so quickly that Lord Tubbington gave a disgruntled meow. She grabbed Brittany's shoulders and pulled her close to cover her face in kisses.

"Thank you, Britt-Britt," she said. "You're the best girlfriend in the world."

… … …

Tuesday morning, the girls of New Directions received a text requesting a meeting with Rachel Berry in the Spanish classroom after school. They replied in the affirmative with some trepidation, uncertain of the subject matter that would be discussed. When they arrived, they found her seated primly behind a table that was facing away from the door. Quinn noticed that she must have been wringing her hands; there were red blotches on her skin from where the flesh had been twisted by grasp.

Once all the girls had settled someplace in the room, Rachel rapped the gavel loudly to call them to order. She announced that she was in need of advice and was optimistic that they could help her.

"Finn and I were... almost intimate," Rachel announced.

Quinn felt as if her heart had dropped straight through her stomach. Her back went rigid and she was lightheaded. She focused on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, barely catching the conversation that followed.

"...And now I realize that I was just doing it for all the wrong reasons," Rachel was saying.

"Do you want my advice?" Quinn asked abruptly.

Rachel nodded desperately.

"Just wait."

"Just wait?" Rachel repeated.

"Look what happened to me," Quinn cautioned.

"You could have used protection," Tina interjected.

"I'm not just talking about getting pregnant," Quinn said, forcing her voice to remain casual. "I'm talking about losing something that you can never get back. It changes you. It makes everything more complicated."

Santana jumped in to pick up where Quinn had left off, ready to take the focus off her uncomfortable and miserable friend.

"I also think that you should wait," she concurred. "Speaking from experience, Finn is terrible in bed."

Quinn fought to keep herself from nodding. As Santana went into far too much wince-inducing detail, she found her attention wandering again and turning inward to the ache in her chest that refused to abate.

"I lost my virginity at cheerleading camp," Brittany suddenly confided.

Quinn returned to reality with a snap. She and Santana exchanged glances. Santana stared at Brittany with an almost unreadable expression, but she did not attempt to interrupt whatever might follow this announcement.

"He just... climbed into my tent," Brittany summarized with a shrug. "Alien invasion."

Rachel and Tina went back to talking as if this were a bizzare joke they didn't understand but Santana and Quinn were immobilized. Neither was quite certain what to do. Brittany had made it through her confession without so much as a tear. It seemed unwise to offer a hug now and risk breaking her composure.

Meanwhile, Rachel had all but decided she would remain celibate until Tina spoke of her own first time with Mike over the summer. While Quinn was happy for them, she could have screamed aloud when she saw the way that the tale put a hopeful smile on Rachel's face. Further arguments rose up her throat until Quinn thought she might choke, but they all featured declarations she was not prepared to make.

"Well... um... thank you," Rachel murmured. "You've all given me a lot to think about tonight. Meeting adjourned."

She and Tina departed, but Quinn remained behind with her friends. Silence settled around them, broken only by the ticking clock on the wall.

"That was really brave," Santana said at last.

"I knew they wouldn't understand," Brittany whispered. "Maybe that's what made it feel safe to say the truth. Anyway, I didn't do anything wrong so I shouldn't have to feel bad if I talk about it, right?"

Her voice broke on the last word and she ducked her head as she tried to fight off the emotion welling up in her eyes. Santana was at her side immediately, wrapping Brittany tightly in her arms and kissing her hair.

"It's okay," she promised fervently. "It's all right. I'm here. You're okay, baby. It's okay. I love you. I love you..."

Quinn suddenly felt as though she were intruding on too intimate a moment. She briefly strode over and gave them an awkward, parting group hug. Brittany rubbed her eyes hastily and looked up at her friend.

"What about you?" she cried in dismay.

"What about me?" Quinn laughed humorlessly. "I'm fine."

"You know what I mean," Brittany said and reached out to hold the other girl's hand. "What she said. What she's going to do. It didn't mean the same thing for everyone else as it did to you."

Quinn felt her face grow warm and she had to look away.

"Yeah, well, what I feel about it doesn't really matter."

"It might if you told her," Brittany suggested gently.

"I can't, Brittany," Quinn argued wretchedly. "You saw her. She's in love with him. What good would it do to lose the friendship I have for a place in her heart that will never be mine?"

Brittany frowned deeply and rubbed Quinn's hand between both of hers. Santana gave their friend a reassuring side hug.

"Maybe she won't go through with it," Santana suggested.

"Crap." Quinn despaired although she found herself laughing.

"What?" Santana asked defensively.

"If even you are offering me optimism, I must really be screwed."

… … …

Brittany was stretched out on her stomach and idly scrolling through pages of websites on her laptop. Occasionally, she paused her search to scribble something in the open notebook at her right side. To her left, Santana was reclining on her back, gazing up at the stomp patterns on the ceiling.

"Did you find anything interesting yet?"

"Not really," Brittany sighed. "Could you help me look for a while? There are lots of facts but I'm not even sure where to begin."

Santana rolled over and leaned her chin on the other girl's shoulder. Her dark eyes scanned the contents of the page. Then she reached out to move the pointer to the next blue number at the bottom.

"You're right," she remarked. "There's a ton of information here but I don't see a lot that we can apply on a high school level."

As her index finger slid across the touchpad, she was temporarily sidetracked by the curve of Brittany's neck in her peripheral vision. Santana's lips planted a soft kiss there as she spoke near Brittany's ear.

"Why don't we just forget about the Internet for a minute and think about the problems we've seen girls facing at McKinley?" she suggested. "They don't even have to be major issues. It'll be easier if you start small and promise things you know that you can change immediately. The bigger stuff can come later."

Her mouth returned to its former activity and Brittany's eyes rolled back into her head as she tried to think clearly.

"Well," she said slowly. "I noticed that some of the drinking fountains on the second floor barely work anymore. The water only comes out a little bit so anyone that wants to reach it has to lean over really far. Whenever a girl is wearing a short skirt, the guys walking by use it as a chance to look at them while they won't notice."

"Mm-hmm," Santana murmured distractedly.

"Maybe if we got them fixed, they wouldn't have to deal with that embarrassment," Brittany concluded.

"That's good," Santana agreed. "It's also something that would be pretty easy to get done."

Brittany jotted the idea down in her notebook.

"Hmm," she pondered thoughtfully. "Not all of my pledges should probably be for girls, though. There are guy voters, too."

She looked at the computer in front of her and furrowed her brow as she tried to come up with another promise she could keep for everyone.

"Wait a minute!" she exclaimed, gesturing to the screen. "What about this? Everyone uses computers now, right? But not everyone is so great at sitting through classes. What if there was some kind of online help for students that have trouble with their grades? They could get tutoring without feeling awkward about asking to have it explained by someone smarter than them. It'd be like having… robot teachers."

She grinned excitedly. Santana giggled as she nuzzled her neck.

"I like the sound of that," she agreed.

Brittany groaned as it became clear that she wasn't going to be able to keep the other girl's attention on the task at hand. She turned off her laptop and shut her notebook. Then Brittany twisted onto her back so she could look up at Santana.

"That's a pretty good start," she conceded. "I can do the rest later this week. I have to work on that natural disasters paper for Mrs. Rausch's class anyway, so I can write out my speech then."

Santana gazed at her intently and smiled.

"You're going to be such a great president," she said softly. "You're gonna win this thing. I'm sure."

"How do you know that?"

"Because this is your year; I can feel it."

Brittany beamed and pulled her down for a kiss.

"Plus," Santana added as they paused for air. "I've already started putting together a killer wardrobe for when I become a trendsetting First Lady."

She winked and grinned as Brittany threw back her head and laughed.

… … …

Quinn pulled the blanket over her thighs and reached for the libretto on her nightstand. She uncapped a highlighter and began carefully marking her cues. Along with Brittany and Mike, Quinn was set to play one of the Jets in West Side Story. She was just nearing the end of Act I when she heard a strange thud downstairs. This was followed by an even louder crash, and then a voice that she had not heard in a year and a half.

The libretto and highlighter were left forgotten as she hastily untangled herself from the covers and dashed to the door. Once on the landing, she cautiously crept toward the top of the stairwell. There in the foyer, she could see him: Russell Fabray.

Quinn's blood ran cold. Her hand gripped the railing and she stood, frozen, as she tried to remain unseen in the shadows.

"JUDY!" Russell bellowed. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? GET OUT HERE, NOW. I WANT TO TALK TO YOU."

Quinn knew exactly where her mother was at that moment. She would be lounging in the living room by now, with a cocktail glass in hand that had already been filled and drained at least thrice over by this hour. Judy would be foggy, confused, and utterly defenseless.

Russell staggered in that direction and swiped angrily at the air as though fighting off invisible bodyguards that were barring him from approaching his ex-wife. Quinn crept down the stairs and clung to the wall as her heart pounded sharply against her ribcage.

"Russell?" Judy slurred. "What are you doing here?"

"I'll tell you what I'm doing here! I'm taking back my goddamn house!" Russell shouted. "I've been away from this place long enough and I'm coming back before you let it all go to hell!"

"I've done fine on my own, Russell," Judy protested. "I've taken on two jobs to support us and keep from losing our home. I don't need you."

"Oh, very impressive," Russell mocked. "This is still my home too, Judy! I'm the one who found it when we were searching for a place to move. I paid for every piece of furniture and every decoration under this roof. I have more of a claim to this place than you ever will."

"No, you don't," Quinn said.

Her father turned to see her standing in the doorway. Quinn had her hands balled at her sides as she struggled not to quake under his gaze. She held her head high and glared back at him, fierce and defiant.

"Well, if isn't the resident whore of Lima Heights Proper," Russell drawled.

"Someone had to inherit the title after you were gone," Quinn retorted.

"How dare you?" Russell fumed. "You are the one who threw her morals out the window as if she hadn't been taught right from wrong since birth."

"You are such a fucking hypocrite!" Quinn yelled back. "You can honestly stand there, in all seriousness, and pretend what I did was worse than what you had been up to for eighteen months? You cheated on your wife of twenty-four years, you asshole!"

"Watch your language when you speak to me!" Russell demanded.

"Says the man who trespassed in a home where he no longer lives and began swearing like a sailor!" Quinn argued. "You're always so lenient with your own mistakes and so quick to condemn anyone else. Finn and I had only been dating for a few months when I lost my virginity to Puck. Yes, it was a horrible mistake and yes I got pregnant, but you betrayed our entire family with what you did! Then you had the gall to throw me out of the house and call me the disappointment when you knew damn well that the first number on your speed dial wasn't Mom and hadn't been since right after we moved here!"

Russell's eyes bulged as he sputtered and his face turned dark red.

"Enough!" he waved away her words and turned to face Judy again. "I didn't come here to rehash your failures. Go upstairs, Quinn. This is between me and your mother."

"She's right," Judy told him as she shakily rose to her feet. "All the grief in this family stemmed from your actions and your reactions to situations out of your control. When our daughters needed you, you cut them off and left them in the cold. The only difference was that you allowed Frannie to stay."

"Against my better judgment," Russell replied. "It was only your begging that swayed my decision. Now look how she repaid it! That girl ruined a perfectly good marriage and is galavanting off God knows where with the same tart who got her into trouble in the first place!"

"Her heart stayed true to the one she loved," Judy countered. "Something none of us could expect you to understand. Fidelity is obviously not among your strong suits."

Russell kicked a nearby potted plant so hard that it toppled to the floor. Judy winced but did not let it impede the progress of her argument. She held onto the couch to support herself and walked toward him.

"Why are you really back, Russell?" Judy asked coldly. "Did she get tired of you? Did she start fooling around with someone else? Or was she lucky enough that she caught wise before it was too late and saw you for the shell of a man you really are?"

The slap came so fast that Judy did not have time to brace herself. She toppled over the edge of the couch and rolled to the floor. Quinn rushed forward to help her.

"Mom!"

Russell grabbed Quinn's arm and threw her aside. His grip left three jagged nail marks on her forearm that trickled blood.

"I want my house back, Judy!" he declared. "I'm going to live here whether you stay or I have to throw you out."

Quinn crawled quickly toward the fireplace. She grabbed the poker from its stand and hauled herself to her feet.

"Get the hell away from my mother!" Quinn yelled.

Both of her parents turned to look at her in alarm.

"You heard me!" Quinn said. "Lay a hand on her again and I swear I'll do it."

She slashed the poker through the air to emphasize her point. Russell appeared to debate his response for a moment, weighing whether or not she was bluffing.

Quinn drew a few steps closer.

"Go ahead, give me a reason, as if I didn't already have enough," she challenged. "I'll do it."

Slowly, Russell backed away and edged toward the door. Quinn positioned herself between him and Judy.

"Get the fuck out of our house," Quinn growled.

Russell glared at them both with fury blazing in his eyes, but he did as his daughter had commanded.

The minute the door closed behind him, the poker fell from Quinn's hands and her body shook violently. She stumbled backward and wrapped her arms around her middle as a single sob tore from her throat.

Then she heard her mother's weeping a short distance away and her own tears stopped. Quinn knelt beside her and pulled Judy into her arms. She stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.

"It's okay, Mom," she promised. "He's gone now. I'm not going to let him come back. I'll report this to the cops. Dad won't hurt you. He won't hurt any of us anymore. I'll make sure of it."

… … …

Santana watched as Brittany stood on tiptoe to reach the cabinets in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a chuckle.

"I want to try something," Brittany replied as she lowered herself back to the ground with a plastic bag clutched in her hand.

Santana cocked her head to the side and jerked her chin toward the package her girlfriend was holding.

"It's cotton candy," Brittany replied to her unspoken question.

Brittany popped herself onto the countertop to perch in front of where Santana was seated on the stool. With one hand, she opened the Ziploc and tore out a fluffy, blue piece. Then she held up the sample as she explained further.

"I want you to put this in your mouth," Brittany instructed. "Then I'll say something that you won't like but you can't respond until it's dissolved, okay?"

"What are you going to say?" Santana asked worriedly.

"I don't know yet but that's not the point. Will you try it?"

Reluctantly, Santana nodded. She opened her mouth and Brittany put the cotton candy inside.

"Okay, are you ready?" Brittany checked.

Santana bobbed her head impatiently. Brittany's face scrunched as she tried to come up with something to test her girlfriend's limits. Her expression brightened when an idea surfaced.

"Quinn is a better kisser than you are."

Santana's features twitched and contorted but Brittany quickly brought a single finger to her quivering lips.

"Uh-uh. Not yet. Wait until it's gone."

Santana seethed and hit her heel peevishly against the leg of her chair. Brittany gave her a serene smile as they both waited for the encumbrance to disappear. At last, Santana heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

"Let me see," Brittany urged.

Santana stuck out her tongue with an irritable eye roll.

"Good," Brittany remarked quietly. "Now, what did you want to say about Quinn?"

Santana started to speak but then frowned.

"Shit, I can't remember."

"Exactly," Brittany said with a grin. "I knew it would work! Now, every time somebody says something to make you angry, you can just pretend that you're sucking on cotton candy."

Santana nodded thoughtfully but then looked up at her with a concerned expression.

"You were just kidding about the Quinn thing, though, right?"

Brittany tapped her index finger against her chin and pretended to think it over.

"Britt!" Santana exclaimed.

She tugged Brittany off the counter and onto her lap. The force of the movement caused the stool to shoot out from underneath her and send them both toppling to the floor. All the air rushed out of Santana's lungs and the back of her head exploded in pain that made her vision blur, but she found herself laughing. Brittany giggled, too, and leaned lightly against her chest.

"I was only teasing," she assured her. "You kiss better than anyone I know."

"Damn straight, I do," Santana growled.

Then she propped herself up on her elbows and closed the gap between them to prove her point.

… … …

Quinn was drinking tea from her favorite blue mug when her mother knocked lightly on the door frame of the second dining room.

"Hello," Judy greeted and folded her arms around her body.

"Hi," Quinn returned softly.

"I always wondered where you went when you wondered off into the house," Judy confessed. "For a while I thought maybe you went to your father's den, because you missed him. I never tried to follow you because I assumed you wanted privacy."

Quinn shrugged and stretched out her legs.

"It seemed like such a waste to have a room we only used a few times a year," Quinn said. "It's so peaceful here. I like the quiet."

Judy shifted her weight from one foot to the other and prepared to leave.

"You can stay," Quinn added hastily. "That wasn't a hint that I wanted to be alone. I'm sorry it came out that way."

Judy smiled shakily and pulled out a chair across from her daughter.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I... I wanted to talk to you... about what happened with your father."

"You haven't seen him again, have you?" Quinn asked worriedly.

"No." Judy shook her head. "I think you scared him away for the time being."

"I scared myself a little, too," Quinn admitted. "I had no idea what was going to happen. I just knew I couldn't watch him do that to you again."

Judy reached for Quinn's hands. Quinn flinched at first but allowed their skin to touch.

"You were so brave," Judy told her quietly. "I don't know why I'm surprised. You always have been. I guess witnessing it firsthand in no uncertain terms just made it easier to see. You're all grown up, a woman in your own right, and you're so strong... inside and out. I'm so proud of you, Quinnie."

Tears ran down Quinn's cheeks and she set her mug aside to wipe them off her face.

"It's just been so hard," she confessed. "Sometimes it's felt like just being alive is hard."

"It can be." Judy nodded.

"And I've missed Frannie so much," Quinn continued. "Half a year without her... I thought I was going to lose my mind. She's been the one person who knew how to talk me down and keep me sane."

"I've been so glad she could be such a positive influence in your life," Judy told her.

Quinn looked up with wide eyes.

"Yes, I read the address labels," Judy confirmed. "And sometimes I'd pass by your room and hear her voice... It's what I'd always wanted for the two of you, that bond. There was a time when I was afraid there wouldn't be a chance for any bond at all."

"Why haven't you spoken to her, Mom?" Quinn asked. "I know she'd want to hear from you. You guys were so close once."

"I'm not so sure of that," Judy replied. "Her father ruined her present and dictated her future back then and I stood by and did nothing. I don't know that Frannie could forgive that kind of betrayal. I wouldn't blame her if she didn't."

"I think you should try," Quinn asserted. "She's in such a good place right now. Frannie's happier than she's ever been in her whole life. I know she'd want to share that with you, if you'd give her the chance."

Quinn squeezed her mother's hands reassuringly and smiled.

"We're survivors, the Fabray women," she said. "I think it's time we prove to everybody, most of all ourselves, that Dad didn't break any of us and we're stronger and more united than ever. When she gets home, you've got to talk to her, Mom. Trust me; she wants that back as much as you do."

... ... ...

It was time.

The line of candidates sank down onto the chairs waiting for them. They were all visibly nervous - with the exception of Rick "The Stick" - wringing their hands or fiddling with their notecards to calm themselves. Brittany, for her part, decided not to read over what she had written. Her heart was already thudding in her chest and she was having difficulty regulating her breathing. Rehearsing in excess would just psych her out before the big moment.

Gradually, a few sections of the bleachers began to fill in with the small number of people that actually decided to turn up for the debate. Kurt's dad was there and so were some of the Glee kids and Mr. Schue. The hockey team turned up for Rick and the Cheerios were there for Brittany. She appreciated their support, but there was only one among their number that she really needed. Her eyes found Santana at the center of the group. Santana was already looking at her and, when their gazes met, she gave her a single nod of encouragement.

Once everyone was settled, Principal Figgins gave his introductory speech and let Rick have the mic. Brittany tried to focus on what he was saying but she was feeling a little dizzy. There was a strange sensation in her stomach as if someone had released a flutter of butterflies inside of her. The hockey guys all shouted raucously and she realized that the athlete must have made the last of his statements. Now it was her turn.

She got to her feet and hoped that her knees were not visibly knocking together. Ordinarily, if she were dancing, being in front of a crowd like this would be absolutely no problem. However, this was different. This was just her and her words and that judgmental crowd, at least half of whom were probably already prepared to write off anything she said as completely stupid anyway. Her hands gripped the sheets of paper between her fingers as she inched closer to the microphone. All eyes zeroed in on her and Brittany gulped before she prepared to speak. After she introduced herself, she looked down at her paper to read.

"Tornados are nature's most destructive force," she began.

Wait a minute. That didn't seem right… She went on to the next sentence.

"These violent storms have ravaged America, crippling communities all across our land."

Oh, God. She had grabbed the wrong papers out of her locker. Now what? She couldn't possibly admit that she didn't have the right material, but if she kept reading this it would make her look just as bad. Desperately, she tried to think of a way to spin the words into something resembling a campaign speech.

"Isn't it time we take a stand?"

Her eyes flicked up from the sheet and saw that Santana – proper First Lady that she was – was sitting there nodding to every word she said as if it made perfect sense. This provided her with a small comfort but the sooner she could end this catastrophic ramble the better.

"If you honor me with being your next class president, I will make tornados illegal at McKinley, keeping you and your families at our school safe from their murderous rampages."

Crap. She had lost almost all of her audience by then and she could feel the heat of her shame spreading across the back of her neck. Time to put the final nail in the coffin…

"Also, on Tuesdays, I pledge to go topless. Woo!" she finished at last.

Well, that certainly got a cheer.

She pumped her fist in the air and spun on the spot before making her way back to her seat. As Kurt got up to approach the mic, Brittany resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. At least it was finally over. This was not anything close to what she had in mind when she decided that she wanted her high school career to go out with a bang.

Santana was already waiting for her at their lockers when she eventually braved going back into the halls after the assembly. Without a word, Brittany rested her head against the cool metal and frowned.

"I blew it," she mumbled.

"You can still come back from this."

"How? They're never going to take me seriously now. I read the wrong thing and I was too freaked out to even remember a little bit of what I actually wanted to say."

"Still, look at the positives," Santana urged her. "You can sure as hell beat Rick "The Stick" any day of the week. The only ones voting for him will be the rest of the '80s Hair Eggheads that follow him around. Not to mention, with Rachel announcing she's out of the running, that means you technically only have one real opponent: Kurt."

"Yeah, but you know that Rachel will be helping Kurt with his campaign now," Brittany protested.

"That's true. They're definitely more of a threat to us together than apart," Santana admitted. "But I think we're up to the challenge, don't you?"

She held her pinky aloft between them and Brittany accepted it with her own.

"If you say so. I just hope everyone isn't too disappointed that I'm ending my fight against tornadoes before it even began. I can't actually do anything about them."

Santana chuckled.

"Somehow, I don't think that's the part of your new campaign promises that they'll be the saddest to let go."

"I really shouldn't have said that last part," Brittany laughed as she wrinkled her nose. "It was going so badly that I thought I'd at least end it with a joke."

Santana protruded her lower lip and widened her eyes.

"So, no Topless Tuesdays?" she teased.

Brittany looked at her for a moment and then smiled coyly.

"Well, maybe just for you."

... ... ...

Quinn had made all the arrangements. She would take Monday off from school and accompany her mother on the hour-long drive along the I-75 to pick up Frannie and Alisha at the James M. Cox International Airport in Dayton. The couple would be staying at the Fabrays' house for the subsequent week and would make the trip back to Chicago that Saturday.

The tension inside the SUV was palpable as the houses and telephone wires passed by in a blur. Quinn ran her hand along the chest strap of her seat belt and chewed her bottom lip. Judy kept the radio playing almost obsessively and changed the channel any time a station reached a commercial break.

Quinn glanced at her mother and reached out to sympathetically rub her arm.

The search for parking was a nearly impossible mission in and of itself, but they finally managed after scanning the spaces for a quarter of an hour. Inside the airport was another level of chaos with people coming and going in every possible direction. Quinn reached down for her mother's hand and led the way to the arrival gate.

They maintained their hold on each other while they waited and Quinn could feel how clammy her mother's palm became over the passing minutes. Then disembarking passengers began coming into view and they both tensed.

Two women, hand in hand, one brunette and one redhead, were in the middle of the crowd.

"Frannie!" Quinn called.

Frannie let go of Alisha's hand and Quinn released Judy's as they ran toward each other. They crashed into one another so hard that they were both left winded but neither noticed as they hugged the other and cried.

"You're so tan!" Quinn exclaimed and held her sister's face in her hands.

"Morocco finally gave me some color!" Frannie laughed. "And if you think I got sun, you should see Alisha. She has even more freckles than when she started!"

They turned to find Frannie's fiancée standing a few feet away, allowing the siblings to have their moment without interruption. Quinn's face lit up in a huge grin.

"Alisha," she said excitedly. "You look exactly the way I remembered you!"

Quinn walked over to the woman and gave her a hug, which Alisha gratefully returned.

"Nine years since the last time you saw me and you think I look the same?" Alisha laughed. "Better watch out, Frannie. Your sister's flattery is going to give you some competition."

"It's really great to see you," Quinn told her. "Frannie's told me so much about you."

"Oh, really?" Alisha joked and arched her eyebrows. "Well, I'll plead innocent until proven guilty. Unless they were good things, in which case I claim them proudly."

They laughed and Quinn turned to look over her shoulder at where her mother was fidgeting and gripping the strap of her purse with both hands. Quinn looked to Frannie, whose gaze had traveled in the same direction.

"Mom?" Frannie said softly.

Judy's eyes focused on her eldest daughter's face and her lip trembled. A hint of pink was visible in Frannie's cheeks as she took one faltering step after another to close the distance between them. When she was nearly in front of her mother, she glanced back at her sister and fiancée. Quinn smiled and Alisha nodded.

"Please don't cry, Mom," Frannie pleaded.

"I'm just so sorry," Judy sobbed and buried her face in her hands to hide it from passersby who were staring as they walked by them.

"Me, too," Frannie said earnestly. "But I'm not sad or angry anymore."

She gently pried her mother's hands away so she could look her in the eye.

"Really, I'm not."

Judy fished a tissue out of her purse and blew her nose.

"I want to... I want to talk to her, too," Judy said feebly with a nod in Alisha's direction.

"Okay," Frannie consented kindly. "I'll come with you."

She looped her arm around her mother's and walked back to where the other two women were waiting. Judy took a deep breath and, squaring her shoulders, looked up into Alisha's pale blue eyes.

"Hello, Alisha," she greeted.

"Hello, Mrs. Fabray," Alisha returned. Quinn noticed that her former confidence seemed to have flown, replaced by an expression that looked for all the world like a chastised child.

"I wanted to personally apologize to you," Judy said. "For the part I played in separating the two of you after... after what I saw that night nine years ago. I should never have put my daughter's heart on the line. She suffered every day after that. It nearly killed her. I'm sure you endured the pain just as much."

Alisha's face flushed and she blinked rapidly. She cleared her throat and nodded.

"Yeah, I did."

"Neither of you deserved that," Judy continued. "You were barely more than children. I hope someday you can forgive me."

Alisha's skin was now red all the way down to her shirt collar. She reached blindly for Frannie's hand and clasped it in hers.

"I already do," she choked out around the lump in her throat. "We're together now and... having her in my life the way I do today... it makes everything else just a thing of the past."

Judy began to cry again as a relieved smile spread across her face.

"Here, come on," Alisha suggested. "Let's get to baggage claim before the airport staff chase us off."

She led the way and Judy followed, still dabbing at her eyes. Frannie joined them and looked back at Quinn who was a short distance behind the others. She locked eyes with her and mouthed gratefully:

Thank you.

... ... ...

Brittany wasn't sure what made her look up from the notebook where she had been absentmindedly doodling birds in the margins; she just suddenly found her eyes drawn away from her sketches to the small window beside the door. Outside in the hall, she caught a glimpse of a red-and-white blur. A few seconds later, it passed again. By the third time that Brittany spotted the figure, she finally realized what she was seeing. Santana was pacing outside her classroom.

Her stomach lurched. Did this have something to do with why Santana had been called into Coach Sylvester's office? Brittany got up as calmly as she could, hoping not to draw attention to her departure. Hopefully everyone would assume she was going to the restroom.

The door closed behind Brittany with a faint click, and Santana turned toward the sound. Now that she was in the hall with her, Brittany could hear the faint wheezing coming from Santana.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

Santana didn't reply. Instead, she grabbed Brittany's arm and dragged her away from her classroom. Her movements were jerky and rigid, and Brittany was put on edge in response. Santana did not stop until they reached the short hall that led to the gym doors. There were no classrooms in that passage, so they were less likely to be discovered.

"Santana, you're scaring me," Brittany said when they finally came to a halt. She rubbed at the finger marks on her wrist.

"They know," Santana choked out hoarsely.

"What?"

"Coach Sylvester, Mr. Schue, Kurt's dad," she listed as her eyes flicked frantically from one end of the hall to the other as if she half-expected an angry mob to round the corner at any moment. "Pretty soon the local media, my parents, and then the world at large, all because of Finn fucking Hudson."

"What are you talking about?" Brittany asked. "I don't understand."

"Do you remember how I told you about what Finn called out to me in the hallway the other day? About... about me coming out of the closet?"

Brittany nodded.

"Well, it turns out someone did overhear, and not just any someone: the niece of one of the other candidates running against Coach Sylvester and Mr. Hummel," Santana explained.

Brittany got a sickening feeling that she had an idea where this was going but she let her girlfriend continue.

"When I got to Sue's office, Mr. Schue and Kurt's dad were already there. They showed me the tape for a new campaign commercial that's going to air on TV," Santana said as her gaze slowly met Brittany's. "I'm in it."

She waited for her reaction. Brittany's jaw dropped slightly as she looked at her in shock and disbelief. There was fear in her eyes, not for herself, but for Santana. The concern now written in her features caused Santana to break and lose her temporary composure. Tears that she had only just managed to keep at bay as she ran away from the office now spilled from the corners of her eyes and left warm trails down the sides of her face.

Brittany pulled the girl into her arms and rested her chin on Santana's hair as she cried against her chest.

"What did it say?" Brittany asked softly.

"They were trying to say that Sue doesn't share Lima's values because she promoted a lesbian to head cheerleader," Santana wailed. "Then they pretty much suggested that she was a lesbian, too, and that's why she was showing preferential treatment toward me."

Her whole body shook violently as she struggled not to hyperventilate. Brittany tightened her grip to hold Santana still and murmured to her soothingly.

"This is all my fault," Santana sniffled. "You tried to warn me about being too mean to Finn, but I didn't listen. He just pisses me off so much, and the whole time I was trying to apologize he was wearing that dumbass smirk of his. I couldn't help it. I just wanted to wipe that look off his face so badly and the words kept coming even though I could hear your voice in my head telling me to stop."

"That still doesn't give him any excuse," Brittany insisted heatedly. "I don't understand why he would do this. It wasn't his secret to tell and he shouldn't have used it to win an argument."

Santana continued to cry while Brittany stroked her hair.

"I know I was being a total bitch to him but it's not like I said anything he wasn't already thinking himself," she hiccupped. "I never thought any of it would make him hate me so much that he'd want to ruin my life."

"Your life isn't ruined," Brittany protested. "We're going to get through this."

Santana pulled away from her.

"No," she said decisively. "We're not. I know I said I'd come out eventually, but this is way bigger than anything we planned. This isn't just my family or this school. It's the whole country, Britt. Everywhere I go there will be people judging me, even ones that I've never met. They'll hate me before they've even talked to me. I won't be safe anywhere."

Santana started to pace again. Abruptly, she stopped and punched the wall with a snarl, only to swear colorfully when that outburst made her knuckles bleed.

"Goddamnit!" she growled as she sucked on the wounds.

Again, Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana.

"It's going to be okay," she assured her. "I'll take care of you. I'll be here."

Santana shook her head adamantly.

"I can't let you do that. It's too dangerous. Anything could happen. I could be attacked; I could be killed. I'm not letting you anywhere near that. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you."

"What are you trying to say?" Brittany asked tremulously.

"I'm saying this is something I have to do on my own," Santana clarified. "And you're finally just going to have to accept that what I've been saying to you for years is right: You're better off without me."

She broke free from Brittany's hold and started to walk away. Santana had scarcely gone three steps when a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. The next second, Brittany spun her around on the spot and grabbed the sides of her face, kissing her passionately.

Santana was so stunned that she was left breathless. She fell back against the wall and closed her eyes as Brittany's body pressed against hers. When she opened them again, she was met with a startlingly clear gaze that stared directly into her soul.

"I won't accept it," Brittany said simply. "If this is something you have to face, then I'll go with you. I don't care what happens to me. This is our battle to fight. Together."

Santana sobbed once and tugged other girl back to her. She kissed her hard and allowed herself a few moments in which she could simply disappear in her girlfriend's embrace. Brittany gently disengaged and licked her thumb to rub beneath Santana's eyelids, clearing the stains from her mascara.

"Come on," Brittany urged as that same hand slid down to interweave their fingers. "Class is close enough to over anyways. Let's just wait for the rest of The Troubletones to get to rehearsal. It's our turn to perform for the Mash-Off today. We're going to show Finn and everybody else what we're made of."

... ... ...

Quinn pulled into the Pierces' driveway and parked in front of their garage next to Mr. Pierce's rusty, old pickup truck. She noticed Mrs. Pierce and Katy raking leaves in the front yard and waved when she exited her car.

"Hi, there!" Mrs. Pierce called genially. "Here to see Brittany and Santana?"

"Yeah, are they inside?"

"They're in the tree house," Katy piped up while she wove crackly leaves into her hair.

"You can head on back if you want to," Mrs. Pierce permitted. "They're already expecting you."

"Thanks," Quinn beamed and followed the path to the backyard.

The ascent to the wooden treehouse was worn and familiar, with grooves in the boards from years of people climbing up and down by those footholds.

"Isn't it a little late in the year to come out here?" Quinn asked when she reached the entrance. "The wind is so cold!"

"I brought an old towel out with me," Brittany answered and held the cloth aloft. "I was waiting for you to get here before I put it over the doorway."

She and Quinn maneuvered around one another and Brittany pinned the towel across the doorway with four thumbtacks.

"There," she declared proudly. "That should help."

Quinn folded her legs beneath her body and looked from one friend to the other.

"So... this afternoon...," she prefaced slowly. "What was going on?"

"Finn figured it out," Santana explained as she rubbed the sleeve of her jacket between her thumb and forefinger. "About me and Brittany. Or, at least, he figured out most of it. Aside from some dumbass remark about Brittany possibly not loving me back, he hit the nail right on the head."

Quinn looked to Brittany, whose eyes were glistening with unshed tears while she stared at her girlfriend.

"The thing is," Santana continued. "He called me out on it in the hallway, and we were within earshot of Domeka Salazar, that freshman Cheerio whose uncle is running for House of Representatives against Coach Sylvester and Kurt's dad."

Quinn's brow furrowed.

"I don't think I understand."

"He outed me in his new campaign commercial," Santana stated bluntly. "They used a picture of my face and everything. Now every person with a TV in the state of Ohio will know the truth."

Brittany's lips had formed a thin line and she was staring at the floor of the treehouse. Santana sighed and leaned back against the wall with her eyes closed. Quinn gaped at both of them.

"No wonder you slapped Finn after the Mash-Off," she muttered bewilderedly. "What happens now?"

"Well," Santana answered. "Tomorrow I'm being called into Principal Figgins's office to determine my punishment for assaulting a fellow student."

"That's complete crap!" Quinn fumed. "Boys beat the hell out of each other in the halls and nothing happens but you're held accountable for reacting to your future being put in jeopardy?"

"Welcome to McKinley," Santana quipped bitterly.

"So... Does this mean you have to come out to your family?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah," Santana confirmed and ran her hands through her hair. "Soon, too, before that commercial is aired."

Quinn exhaled slowly and shook her head in dismay. Brittany reached for Santana's hand and held it between both of hers.

"We could tell my parents for practice," she suggested. "It might help you decide what you want to say."

Santana nodded absently.

"Yeah, that could help. Not that it'll be any real news to them. Your parents have pretty much had a front row seat to all of this," Santana laughed, although it sounded brittle. "Still, they deserve to get the official announcement, especially since this could come back at them, too. Everybody at school knows who I'm with every day. They'll put two and two together."

Quinn felt as if her insides had completely vanished. Brittany. This mudslinging was going to tarnish both their reputations for years, possibly for life.

Her jaw set in determination and she looked at them both directly. Quinn reached for Brittany's hand with one of hers and held Santana's with the other.

"I'm going to be here for you," she promised. "I know it might not count for much against what you'll be facing, but I'll stand up for you in every way I can."

"You're our best friend in the world," Brittany asserted genuinely. "Having you on our side counts for everything."