AN: Sorry for the wait! Here's the next part!

Quinn abruptly woke from a dreamless sleep as Rachel bolted upright in the bed, breaking from the circle of her arms. She tried to blink the gunk from her eyes as she rolled on to her back. "Rachel? What's wrong?"

"I found religion," Rachel stated seriously.

It took Quinn all of five seconds to figure out what was going on. She smiled and pressed her mouth into her pillow to keep from laughing. "Did you?" she asked, struggling to keep a straight face. Sleep-talking Rachel was always the best way to wake up.

Rachel blinked heavily, "It's a small Asian boy."

Quinn snorted and giggled. Rachel swayed with a dreamy, satisfied smile, then flopped back down on the bed with a sigh and snuggled back into Quinn.

When Rachel started snoring again Quinn let herself laugh quietly, and ran her hands over Rachel's back. "Crazy girl," she whispered. "Every time I stumble, you're there holding me up - even when you're unconscious."

Now that it was light enough and she was awake, Quinn looked around the room. It seemed to be untouched and she could see Rachel everywhere: in all of the posters, the paint scheme, the glittery stars taped to the mirror - another untouched Rachel Berry shrine. She felt a pang of jealousy at that. There was no doubt in her mind that her mother had completely stripped and changed her room. It was so much easier to deal with the past if the evidence was erased.

"Hmmm," Rachel hummed. "Quinn?"

"Is it the Asian boy again?"

"Wha-?" Rachel nuzzled against Quinn's warm chest and frowned. "What Asian boy?"

"Nothing," Quinn snickered. "You awake?"

"No, I'm dreaming," Rachel grumbled, and swatted lazily at Quinn's hip. "What time is it?"

Quinn shrugged, "Early?"

"What time is the funeral?"

Just like that Quinn's sense of peace shattered. "I sent a text to Cam last night asking that, but I don't know if she responded yet."

"Where's your phone?" Rachel asked and gripped a handful of blanket against Quinn's hipbone. She didn't really want to get up, or ruin the familiar moment she was so enjoying, but she knew it would be easy to get lost in it and they couldn't avoid reality for long.

"Bedside table," Quinn said and unhappily pulled away from Rachel to reach for the device. "Where it always is."

"Does that mean your gun is next to it, also where it always is?"

"You know me so well."

Rachel smiled, "I'd suggest you not carry it when we meet back up with your family, but I know you will anyway. Though I'm curious where you're going to hide it with that dress you brought."

"Well I need it, in case Finn tries to abduct you."

"Finn is not going to try and abduct me, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"There goes that fantasy," Quinn quipped as she checked her text messages. Most of them were from Ryan, but she finally saw the one from her sister and sighed. "Funeral is at ten."

"How about I go downstairs and start some jet-fuel coffee for you so you can take a shower?"

"You'll make me coffee?"

Nodding, Rachel tapped her fingers softly against Quinn's lips. "I think I've watched you do it enough times to get the grounds to water ratio correct."

"It's a science," Quinn said against the fingertips mapping her mouth. She smiled crookedly and grasped Rachel's hand. "Thank you."

"For the coffee?"

"For being you."

"Odd, but sweet. You're welcome," Rachel yawned and stretched, arching her back and pushing her arms up towards the ceiling. "Alright, coffee for me, shower for you."

Quinn sat up with a groan and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "See you in a few."

"Not if I see you first," Rachel said quietly, worriedly watching Quinn walk towards the en-suite bathroom. Quinn may be good at hiding things but Rachel's become an expert in seeing through her defenses.

She took her time getting up, waiting to hear the water turn on before she felt confident enough to leave the bed.

It was weird to be back in her home, to see all of her things untouched in her old room as if she'd never left. In the kitchen she noticed that her fathers hadn't even re-painted; everything was exactly as she'd left it all those years ago.

"Nice boxers."

Rachel yelped and almost dropped the coffee measuring spoon. "Daddy! It's not nice to sneak up on people!"

Leroy shrugged, cocking his head when he noticed the spoon in her hand. "Since when do you drink coffee?"

"I don't," she said simply and narrowed her eyes. "Damn it, I forgot how many scoops I put in."

"Scoops?" Hiram asked through a yawn as he stumbled into the kitchen behind Leroy.

"Rachel's making coffee for Quinn," Leroy grinned. "She's been domesticated."

"Excuse me," Rachel huffed indignantly, whirling around to level a fearsome glare at her fathers. "I am not a house cat."

"More like a house wife," Hiram said as he smoothly removed the scoop from Rachel's hand. "Though you're doing this wrong, so not a very good house wife... yet."

Rachel was still gaping at him after he dropped the big 'w' word. "I'm - that - you!"

"Ah, speechlessness. It never gets old," Leroy reminisced.

"Rachel! How much coffee were you planning on making? God, there are enough grounds in here for two pots, and I'm pretty sure the first one would kill us."

"Quinn likes her coffee strong," Rachel defended. "That's exactly how full she fills our coffee, uh, pot? Filter area?"

"Our," Hiram said and casually leaned back against the counter. "Perhaps now would be a good time to have that family discussion?"

"Are you two living together?" Leroy asked, digging through the fridge.

"I -" Rachel sighed and tried to focus on filling the water reservoir. "Not officially. I still have my apartment but I stay at hers most of the time."

"Is hers nicer?" Hiram winked over at Leroy and crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, I mean, it's nice - it's smaller."

"So why doesn't she stay with you?" Leroy set eggs, a cantaloupe, and kosher turkey bacon on the counter next to the stove.

"I like staying with her. It's um, I feel safe."

"And you don't feel safe at your own apartment?" Hiram and Leroy exchanged a look over their daughter's head. They already knew that Quinn had laid her life on the line for Rachel before, and knew that her job was dangerous. What they didn't know was how it was affecting their little girl. Or much about Quinn other than what they'd been told and seen with their own eyes.

"Well, I do, but… I don't know - is there a point to this questioning?" Rachel moved to start on the cantaloupe but had her hand lightly slapped away.

"My kitchen, I cook," Hiram said. "And you're right, perhaps we could start at how you met back up with Quinn."

Rachel sighed and hoisted herself up to perch on the counter. "I was at Barnes and Noble, stopped for tea in the Starbucks and ran into her. We met up for drinks and I suppose it took off from there. I - I fell for her and I was surprised when I realized what had happened. Not because she's a woman, but because I hadn't expected it. Quinn is amazing and she - I didn't even want to fight it."

"And then the whirlwind romance," Leroy hummed. "Her job must take her away a lot."

"It works out alright, I'm gone a lot too. Lots of late nights."

"I would imagine you spend a lot of time dodging paparazzi. We've seen some candids of you two, but they describe you as friends and Quinn as a 'mystery woman'." Hiram said, cracking eggs into the skillet.

"She's very careful to keep her anonymity, for her job... and for me. She worries about me, so she keeps a low profile to protect me."

"How about you tell us what happened last night?" Leroy suggested, before Hiram could launch into protector mode and rile Rachel up again.

"There's a lot, so much for me to tell you… but not a lot that I can," Rachel said softly.

"Give us the cliff notes."

Torn between her need to tell her father's the whole story and trying to protect Quinn from having her secrets spilled, Rachel toyed with the ends of her hair and tried to find a balance between the two.

"Suffice it to say that I've learned quite a bit about Quinn's family. Things that greatly upset Quinn – that brought up very bad memories - and are not my place to talk to you about. I will say that I'm grateful her father is dead because I might have killed him myself after learning about what went on under his roof." Rachel paused, trying desperately to collect her thoughts and rein in her temper. She chewed on her lip and rubbed at her forehead, wishing the building headache away. "Her uncle is an equally loathsome human being – I don't think I've ever heard more vile things come out of someone's mouth. It must run in the family. Judy is a complete coward who can't say a word in Quinn's defense, and when we went back to retrieve our luggage she was already drinking away her sorrows." Rachel snorted and shook her head sadly. "It's not fair. And he had the nerve to expect her to say a few words – after the things he did…" Her hands started to shake, so she quickly tucked them under her armpits. "I can't go back and keep it from happening – and now I can't keep her from remembering it. I'd do anything if I could make this alright."

She couldn't help but think of the things that Quinn had told her as her imagination conjured the image of a sobbing little girl with giant hazel eyes, curled in a ball on top of a pile of shoes in a dark closet, pleading for her Mommy to let her out. Telling her Daddy she was sorry. Rachel raised her head and looked at her fathers through blurry eyes. "How could a father…" she choked and hastily wiped at the falling tears. A shudder worked its way through her, from her shoulders down; it was all too much. The belt, the closet, and the burn – turning into scars and claustrophobia, and always reading in school where she couldn't be caught. Reaching up she clasped a hand around the beautiful Star of David pendant sitting warmly against her sternum and closed her eyes, recalling Quinn's dopey, lovesick smile when she'd presented the necklace on their six-month anniversary. The memory soothed her; it always did.

"Honey, are you trying to indirectly tell us that Quinn was – " Hiram's question was cut off by the arrival of the woman in question. Quinn faltered as she padded into the kitchen, freezing completely as both men left their cooking to embrace her. "Quinn! Good morning! Did you sleep well? You doing okay?" They babbled together as they crushed her between them, as if in one hug they could erase the hurts of the past. It worked with Rachel, after all.

Rachel watched, kicking herself for having missed the signs for so long. She saw them now, in the way Quinn reacted to her fathers. The quick flash of surprise in her eyes when they hugged her and spoke to her like she mattered broke her heart all over again. She was proud of her Dads though, as obvious as they might be, and she smiled as they showered Quinn with attention.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thank you, and I slept very well," Quinn tried to discreetly remove herself from between Hiram and Leroy but only succeeded in making it worse. They hugged her again, enthusiastically inquiring after her favorite breakfast foods, and was she hungry?

"Guys, you're smothering her. My god, let her breathe," Rachel teased, hopping off the counter to rescue her flabbergasted girlfriend. She steered Quinn into the dining room and gallantly pulled a chair out for her. "Bacon, eggs, and coffee?"

Quinn nodded, "I can help though."

"Are you kidding? They love doting on company."

"So it's inherited then," Quinn mused, grinning crookedly up at Rachel, and gently tugged at the hand resting next to hers.

More than happy to comply with the silent request, Rachel looped her arms around Quinn's neck and leaned down. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Not at all, I think it's adorable when you get into hostess mode. All you need is an apron."

Rachel was trying to come up with a suitable come back when her fathers suddenly - and loudly - burst into song in the kitchen, sufficiently distracting her until she felt Quinn begin playing with her fingers.

"What are they singing? It sounds familiar."

"Pretty Women, from Sweeney Todd," Rachel giggled and turned to nuzzle against Quinn's hair. "Your hair's still wet."

"I didn't want to stay in your room by myself," Quinn admitted, starting to fiddle with Rachel's fingers again.

"Say what you're thinking," Rachel said, weaving her fingers with Quinn's.

"It must be nice, having parents who care." She said it flippantly, but when Rachel pulled away to look at her, her eyes were as watery as her smile.

TBC...