A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews! Glad you're still interested in the story. :) Hope you enjoy the chapter!

"You know what? Fine. Leave me. I don't care, Quinn. I don't."

"You're the one who's going to be leaving."

"Switching schools and it's not until the end of the term."

"Doesn't matter. I'm stuck here now."

"You're not stuck. You can come with me."

"My dreams aren't your dreams, Rachel. This is my life now. Without you."

"Fine."

Quinn was struggling. She needed to get back home soon. She had to start dinner, but right now, it seemed like she was going to cut it close. They were in the grocery store and Alex wouldn't stop crying while Maybelle wasn't listening. Quinn would have given up, but she needed some of these groceries for tonight.

She steered the cart toward the check out counter, trying to ignore the stares from other shoppers as Alex's crying grew louder. He needed a nap when he got home. Quinn quickly began putting the items from the cart onto the checkout counter. She looked around for her daughter.

"Maybelle, get over here," she commanded, spotting her walking off toward a cereal display.

The girl ran back over to the cart and poked her brother, who was sitting in the seat at the front of the cart. Alex swatted at her.

"Maybelle, please," Quinn added as she finished putting all the groceries on the counter.

"Quinn?"

Straightening, Quinn froze. She knew that voice. She hadn't heard it in a long time, though. She looked around the store and her eyes landed on Rachel. Her brown hair was still long, but she didn't have bangs anymore. She was wearing a winter coat and a smile.

"Hey," Rachel said as she approached.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn asked, still not believing Rachel was in the same store as her.

"Home for the holidays," Rachel answered. "Until the new year. Then back to New York."

"Oh." Quinn took note of the cashier scanning her items. Of Maybelle poking her brother once more, but most of her focus remained on Rachel. She hadn't thought she'd see her again.

"How are you?" Rachel moved closer to Quinn and waited for a response she didn't receive. She looked at the children. "Are these your kids?" Of course they were, but she wanted to make some sort of conversation.

"I'm Maybelle," the brunette child announced, looking up at Rachel with big blue eyes.

"Hi, I'm Rachel," she responded.

"You're pretty," Maybelle told her.

Rachel smiled widely. "Thank you. Is this your brother?" She indicated the boy with blonde hair.

"Alex," Maybelle mumbled. "He won't shut up."

"Maybelle, don't say that," Quinn interjected, frowning.

"But he won't shut up," Maybelle replied.

Rachel laughed a little, but Quinn only frowned deeper. She quickly paid for the groceries and dropped the paper bags into the cart.

"I've got to go," she told Rachel and tugged the cart along.

"Maybe we can catch up sometime," Rachel suggested, not wanting Quinn to go yet, but she understood the need with the crying baby and all. "Maybe go out for dinner?"

"I... really can't." Quinn quickly grabbed Maybelle at the wrist. She pulled her daughter along while she pushed the shopping cart with her free hand and headed out of the store.

Rachel watched her go. She figured that trying to get in touch again with Quinn was going to be difficult. After all, they hadn't communicated in years. Although, things had ended sour between them, she hoped the past could be forgotten.

Quinn had finished washing the dishes, cleaning up the kitchen, and putting the kids to bed. She was sitting at the table and making a list of items she needed to buy at the grocery store for Thanksgiving dinner. It was next Thursday and she planned to buy everything she would need this weekend.

She pushed back her chair and moved from the kitchen to the living room. Michael was sitting on the couch, watching a repeat of some comedy show Quinn didn't really like.

"Hey, Michael," she said softly as she stood beside the couch. "Do you want green beans or corn for Thanksgiving?"

"What do you want?" Michael asked, glancing over at her.

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do that green bean casserole stuff," he told her.

"Okay." Quinn nodded and watched him watching the television for a moment. "I, um, I'll be spending money then, this weekend, for the groceries."

"I'll want the receipts," Michael replied, eyes still on the TV.

"All right." She stepped away from the couch and moved back toward the kitchen.

"Where's today's receipt?"

That stopped her. She turned back toward the couch, but didn't approach. "I... I forgot it at the store." She had left in a hurry after seeing Rachel. "I must have dropped it on the way out."

"The price better not exceed fifty dollars," Michael warned.

"It didn't," she assured him. "I didn't get everything on my list. Alex was acting up, I only spent thirty."

Michael turned a little to look back at her. "Remember the receipt next time."

"I will."

The doorbell rang and Quinn looked over at the door. Michael stood from the couch and turned off the television. He looked to the door as well, then to Quinn.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"I don't know," Quinn answered, but she had the worst feeling about this.

Michael went for the door and opened it. Rachel was standing on the porch, an unopened bottle of wine in her hands. Quinn felt like a twenty pound weight had dropped on her stomach. She didn't make a movement, nor a sound.

"Hi, Michael," Rachel said brightly. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Rachel Berry. We went to college together. I was friends with Quinn."

Michael turned and looked back at his wife. She swallowed hard and approached the door slowly.

"Hey, Rachel," she said, trying to keep any fear out of her voice.

Rachel smiled at Quinn, then turned her attention back to Michael, since he was the one still partially blocking the doorway and preventing her from entering. "I live in New York City now, but I'm home for the holidays. I ran into Quinn at the store today and thought I'd stop by."

"You did?" Michael glanced at Quinn, then looked to Rachel. "Now's not really a good time."

"Oh." Rachel's face fell slightly. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. I thought it would be okay. I brought wine."

"It's sort of late," Michael told her. "And I go to sleep early."

"Of course." Rachel offered a smile and shook her head. "Lima is not like New York. Here. Take the wine." She handed it off to Michael. "Maybe we can all go out for dinner once Thanksgiving is through. Maybe catch up a bit?"

"Yes, that might be fun," Michael replied.

Rachel nodded. "All right, well..." She glanced at the blonde. "Quinn, I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," Quinn responded softly.

"Bye, Michael," the brunette said.

"Goodbye, Rachel."

Michael closed the door and locked it. He stared at Quinn as he waited for Rachel to walk away from the house. Quinn began to take slow steps backward.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked quietly.

"I didn't invite her here," Quinn spoke quickly. "I didn't even tell her where we lived. I don't know how she—"

"Shut up," he cut her off and moved toward her.

"Michael, please, I swear to you, I didn't—"

"Shut up."

Quinn pressed her lips together. She was backed up against the wall. She considered running to the bedroom, but she had no where to hide. He had keys for every door in the house. She couldn't lock him out.

Michael threw the bottle of wine at her. Quinn ducked and it shattered above her head. She took off for the hallway as the glass and wine rained down on her. Michael caught her before reaching the bedroom and shoved her in the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Shut up!" he commanded as Quinn cowered.

"Please, Michael, I'm sorry..." She moved around the bed, stumbling slightly as she ran into the corner of it.

"Shut the fuck up," he said through gritted teeth.

Michael smacked her across the face, knocking her to the floor. Quinn lifted her arm to try and protect her face from any more blows.

"You worthless piece of shit." His fingers wrapped around her forearm and he pulled her arm back so her could hit her again.

"Michael, no, please," she begged.

"Shut the fuck up!" He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up more. "I don't want to hear anything from you, do you understand?" Quinn nodded and he slapped her again, releasing her hair and knocking her back to the floor.

"We don't have guests here," Michael reminded her. "Not without approval. You know that. But you made your choice, didn't you? And now you have to pay for that."

"Hey, you dropped this."

"Oh, God, thanks." She hadn't realized she missed the opening in her purse when she went to slip her wallet inside. "You're a life saver."

"I'm not, but thanks." He offered his hand. "I'm Michael."

"Quinn." She accepted his hand and shook it.

He didn't let go yet. "Sophomore?"

"Freshman," she corrected, wincing slightly to admit that.

"Don't sound embarrassed." He laughed a little and released her hand. "Almost sophomore."

"Yes, almost," she agreed with a smile. Quinn eyed him up and lifted an eyebrow. "Junior?"

"Good guess," he told her.

"Thanks." Quinn frowned slightly. She had been in a hurry. "I, uh, got to get to class. Can't be late... again."

"Here." Michael opened his notebook and held out a pen for her. "Write down your number. Maybe we can grab a coffee sometime."

Quinn smiled again and quickly scribbled her cell number down. "That sounds nice."

"Good." He took his pen back and closed his notebook. "I'll see you around."

"You will," she replied and headed off to class, grinning. Michael was really handsome and charming. And he was a junior? Quinn decided it was definitely a good day.