Author's Note: DryadSpeaks and myself have been on a little hiatus but (hopefully) we're back!

In case anyone reading this story forgot, I'm writing the Quinn/Finn portions while she is tackling Artie/Tina (in this section). As always, please read and review. We really appreciate all reviews we receive! Thanks! :)

Chapter Six: Her Suspicions, His Dilemma

For what felt like forever, Quinn sat, staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of her. An hour ago, she had decided to attempt writing the preamble for the 2011 -2012 yearbook but couldn't seem to figure out just what to write on the subject of dreams. First, she had typed up a few pages of free flow that, once she had re-read it, was basically just crap. Next, she had laid on her bed, eyes on the ceiling, contemplating all that she thought she knew about dreams. Lastly, she had picked up a piece of binder paper and taken a pencil, tapping the graphite end of the pencil repeatedly on the paper. Finally, exasperated, she threw the pencil across the room, crumpled the paper into a ball and plucked her phone from its place on her desk, fingers flying across its touch screen.

Twenty minutes later Finn, ever the dutiful boyfriend, at least this time around, showed up at her house, bearing a chocolate milkshake and a large order of fries.

"What's wrong?" he asked, noticing the way her forehead was wrinkled.

"Oh," she grumbled, taking the shake and fries from him. "This stupid thing Ms. Pillsbury wants me to do for yearbook is giving me headache."

Plunking himself down on the couch in her living room, Finn nodded in understanding. "I get headaches before games sometimes. I try to get rid of them by playing video games. But it never works."

Sitting next to him, she tucked her feet underneath herself. "So, then, how do you get rid of your headaches?"

Shrugging, Finn took a sip from her milkshake. "They usually go away when I'm playing."

Sighing, Quinn brought a fry to her mouth, taking small nibbling bites until it was gone. "Have you noticed Santana and Rachel acting strangely?" she asked abruptly, stray looks from the last week coming to her mind.

"Um…not really. But they're pretty strange anyway."

Settling against the couch, Quinn silently agreed with him but said, "Apart they're pretty annoying but if they paired up…I don't even want to think about it."

Shrugging again, Finn kicked the remote, stretching out one long arm to grab it. "Doubt that would happen," he replied, clicking the television on. "Want to watch a movie?"

What she wanted to do was discuss Santana and Rachel some more but a movie might be the distraction she needed to help rid her of the headache. "Like what?"

Flipping through the channels, Finn grinned at her. "Something with action. And blood! Violence!"

Frowning, Quinn took the remote away from him, selecting a repeat of Friends to watch. "I'd much rather watch something light hearted. I need to be laughing right now and I hate those kinds of movies, you know that."

Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her towards him. "Fine. I like Friends anyway. How you doin'?"

Rolling her eyes at his Joey impression, Quinn rested against him, attempting to focus on the show.

As the episode played, thoughts of Homecoming started parading through her mind. It was only two weeks away and Finn still hadn't asked her. Maybe he just expected that the two of them would be attending the dance together but it would have been nice if he would extend a more formalized and verbal invitation. "Finn?"

"Hmm…" Apparently he wasn't quite paying attention because after the small noise he made, he laughed at something Joey said.

Biting her lip, she gazed at the TV screen in silence for a couple of minutes. "Never mind. It's not important." Except she actually thought it was important. Obviously Finn didn't feel the same. Tracing her finger along the couch cushion, she reflected upon their relationship and realized it had always been like this. Sometimes, Finn really got it, or at least understood how to make her smile, but other times, like now, he could be so daft. Still, she loved him and had a feeling she always would. First loves should last forever, shouldn't they?

All ponderings further on the subject were interrupted when a vibrating alerted her to an incoming call. Grasping the phone, she saw that it was Artie calling. Since he had never called her before, she figured it must be something important. She was readying herself to answer when Finn plucked the device from her hands.

"Who is it?" His eyes narrowed once they read the caller ID. "Artie? What's he want?"

"It's probably about yearbook," Quinn replied, attempting to snatch the phone from his hands. "Finn! Just give it to me."

Laughing, as if it were a joke, Finn kept the phone away from her, eventually dropping it. Quinn leaned forward and grabbed it right before it hit the floor but, in the process, accidentally unlocked the phone and deleted the message, somehow. Letting out a curse, Quinn lightly slapped her boyfriend. "Great, Finn. Look what you did. And stupid phone. It always does weird things like that."

Apparently, it didn't matter to Finn because, without saying a word, he had gone back to watching the show.

Trying her best not to get angry about it, Quinn typed a message to Artie.

"Hey, I accidentally deleted your voicemail. Sorry. Can you meet before school and tell me whatever you needed to? Thanks."

Artie sat in the coffee shop, waiting for Tina. As he sat, he thought about the conversation he'd heard between Rachel and Santana, and Rachel's response to him when he'd asked her about it. He had just finished replaying the scene in his mind, when Tina arrived, slightly out of breath.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said, sitting down. "I got held up judging some little contest Kurt and Mercedes were having about who had the best hat."

He chuckled. "That's ok, I haven't been here very long. Who won?"

She grinned. "I knew I couldn't name a winner without making one of them mad, so I declared a tie. Between you and me, though...Mercedes totally won."

They talked for a bit more, before Artie decided to ask Tina what she thought about the situation with Rachel.

"I was in the hall today, and I heard Rachel and Santana talking about something. I didn't quite get all of it, but I heard 'undermining,' and 'Quinn.' Then, when I asked Rachel about it, she tried to deny it, and then admitted that they were 'up to no good,' but wouldn't give me any more details. I should do something...but I don't know what to do," he said, cupping his hands around his coffee.

Tina thought for a moment. "You heard them say something about undermining Quinn...so it's probably something about yearbook, right?"

He nodded. "I don't know what else it could be about. I mean, everything knows that Rachel wants to be in charge of everything. Maybe she's trying to take it over."

"Well," she said, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, "I wouldn't worry about it too much. Rachel's definition of being 'up to no good' is probably totally different from...everyone else's. And I don't think she'd try to take the yearbook away from Quinn."

He nodded again. "I just feel like I should do something..." he trailed off.

Before he could say anything else, Tina cut in. "But what are you going to do? Talking to Rachel didn't work. Are you going to talk to Santana?"

He shook his head, and she went on.

"Well, then what are you going to do?" she repeated.

He thought for a moment. "I guess I could call Quinn," he said.

"And say what? That you THINK something is going on with Rachel and Santana?" Tina said, raising her eyebrow.

"I guess," he said, quietly. "Part of me feels like I should just leave it, but I can't. If Santana's involved with something that Rachel thinks is up to no good...then it probably is no good. And Quinn should know about it. I don't want her blindsided by something."

"I guess," Tina said, stirring her coffee with the straw sticking out of the cup.

"I just think that people should know about stuff like this," he said. "I mean...if I heard a conversation like that about anyone, I'd want to do something. Wouldn't you?

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I would. So...you're going to call her?"

He nodded. "Maybe she already kind of knows something is going on. I can feel her out. And...be diplomatic. Or something."

She giggled. "Diplomatic? Good luck with that."

He gasped. "I'll have you know that the A-Man is a master diplomat!"

She giggled again. "Sure, whatever you say...A-Man."

He grinned. "Well, I try to be a master diplomat, anyway. It just doesn't always work."

"Has it ever worked?" she asked, grinning back at him.

He sighed. "No, not really, but one of these days I'm going to get points for trying."

They stayed and chatted for another half hour about various things, before Tina announced that she had a lot of homework and should probably get home.

As he kissed her goodbye, he felt slightly guilty for having girls other than her (namely Quinn) on his mind, but quickly pushed that aside. He was just concerned, he reasoned with himself. He just wanted to help a friend.

After he got home, Artie sat in his room, staring at his phone. Finally, he decided to just go for it, and selected Quinn's name from the list of contacts.

As he listened to the phone ring and ring, he had a moment of panic. What was he actually going to say to her if she answered? He almost felt relieved when the voicemail kicked in.

"Hey, Quinn," he started, after the beep had sounded, "It's Artie. There was, um, just something I wanted to talk to you about. If you want, call me back tonight, please. Or, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Ok, thanks. Bye."

After he'd hung up the phone and placed it on his desk, he began to think. What was he going to say if she called him back? Maybe it would have been better if she'd answered after all, because at least then he wouldn't have had to think about it until he talked to her.

But, he mused to himself, it was too late. He'd left the message, and couldn't do anything else except wait.

As he was preparing to get himself ready for bed, Artie noticed out of the corner of his eye that his phone was lighting up. He reached over, grabbed it, and saw that he had a message from Quinn.

After reading it, he thought for a moment about what to say, before replying simply, "Sounds good. I'll be there around 8:15. Have a good night."

Settling himself against his pillows, he began to plan out what he was going to say, thankful for the fact that he had a few hours to figure it out. It was going to be a long night.