I just wanted to thank you for the warm welcome you guys gave that first chapter. I hope you stick around for the ride.

For having a full house, with memories stained on the walls in forms of pictures during happier times (or so Quinn would like to think), it has never felt so empty in Quinn's heart. From the hardwood floors to the curtains drawn across glass windows, the feeling of change eats away at her. Smiling faces no longer seem genuine, not even her own. Day in and day out, these memories flood her with pain and resentment. Hate and malice. How could she -of all people- have been so blind towards someone actions? Someone who she had once felt the most intense feelings and emotions from. Someone who she had once trusted with her entirety. Someone, she didn't even know at all.

As she lay awake on the couch (the couch she had taken residence in after no longer wanting to go near her bedroom), she thinks to herself about what her life has become. Santana's words play over and over in her mind.

"...because you aren't acting, Quinn."

She turns over to face her now drawn curtains. The moonlight is peeking through the smallest of cracks. Had it been the best decision to give the writers a piece of her life? Probably not. But the exhaustion of acting had become taxing to her mind. It was almost relieving to go to work and not think because the scene was an action she had grown so accustomed to over the past few weeks.

She closes her eyes for a moment, not even a second, and the flashes of images that assault her have her sitting up feeling nauseated. A bitter taste invades her mouth at the thought of the very couch she sleeps on, tainted with memories that are not her own. Memories that her mind makes up while she tries to ignore the hurt and the pain.

Her hand quickly finds her cell phone, thumb scrolling through her contacts until she finds the name she is looking for. She is hesitant at first because of the time. It's early but she knows if she keeps this to herself for too long she won't be able to sleep. Bringing the phone to her ear, she waits until the line is picked up, the voice on the other end thick with sleep.

"Quinn?"

"I want to sell the house."

"Quinn, it's 3 o'clock in the morning."

"I want to sell the house. I want to sell it as soon as possible. I can't live here anymore. I can't stand being here anymore."

There is a pause and Quinn can hear the rustlings of a person getting out of bed on the other end, "Okay, okay, hold on a minute. Why now? Why at 3 o'clock in the morning and not 6am or two weeks ago when I asked if you wanted to move? Quinn, is he there?"

Quinn takes her time answering as she looks at the life she has built around her. A life of lies and mistrust.

"I can't sleep anymore. I can't even step into my own bedroom. I look around me and all I see is him and his lies. I close my eyes and I wonder if the couch I have moved to is as tainted as the sheets on my bed. Mercedes, I can't-"

"Let me call Puck and he can come get you. I'll set you up in the Hyatt Re-"

"No, not the The Regency."

"Right, okay. The Del Mar I'll call them now and have Tina stop by later to bring you clothes. Be ready to leave in 10 minutes. I'll meet you at the hotel as soon as I can."

Quinn nods even though it is pointless. She can hear Mercedes, her manager, sigh before saying a quick goodbye. The line goes dead as Quinn sits in the dark.

She is not sure how long she sits in silence for but the sound of the door opening behind her has her clutching at the quilt scrunched up in her lap. She turns to catch the shadow of a person carefully walking into the living room. A light switch turns on and she breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of her bodyguard, Noah Puckerman.

They say nothing to each other as he comes around in front of her, eyes full of concern. His arms finding their way around her tired and almost lifeless form, lifting her with ease he holds her close to his chest.

"Let's get you out of here."

He carries her through the house and outside the door, quilt on his shoulder while he walks toward a still running black SUV with a door open and waiting. He says nothing setting her down comfortably in the backseat, the quilt now wrapped around her. His movements are slow but made with purpose. He leaves her, but not without telling her words that assure her of his return. The door closes and instead of silence she is met with the sounds of the radio.

He returns not more than a few minutes later, a couple bags in one hand and a coat in the other. He sets them in the front seat, their eyes meeting for the briefest of moments and she smiles.

He returns it with a wink, "Good to know you're still in there, Fabray."

A week after the early morning move, Quinn finds herself in the middle of her Hollywood hills home with movers awaiting her orders. Mercedes is on the phone, pacing in front of her while Puck stands next to her eyeing the moving crew. When Mercedes looks on to see nothing has been packed she starts pointing to things, each time watching Quinn's reaction to make sure it is something of value or no value.

"Wait."

Everyone stops at the sound of her voice.

"Just leave it all behind."

"Quinn…"

"I don't want it. I'll buy new things. I don't want any of these anymore. Burn the pictures, trash them, sell them, I don't care. I don't want them. Keep it in this house or leave it to rot outside."

When no one counters her, she walks away, Puck trailing after her but not without looking back at Mercedes. She waves him off and apologetically smiles to the moving crew standing and holding boxes.

"Pack the walk in closet in the master bedroom but only the right side. Leave the left side alone. Just her clothes. All the personal pictures in the house, put them in as many boxes needed, I'll figure out what to do with them. Everything else...do as she says. Leave it." She turns to the asian women off to the side, "Tina, pack up all her jewelry and anything in the nightstand on the right side of the bed."

It takes no more than an hour to finalize what little had to be packed. The crew leaves, trailing Mercedes' black sedan out of the gated driveway.

"Puck…"

The man she has known for three years stops before opening the door to the SUV.

"Can we wait across the street? I just want to see the house at sunset for the last time."

He doesn't argue with her even though he knows its a lie. Instead he opens the door and gestures for her to climb in. As he does so, he shoots a quick text to Mercedes to tell her that they'll be a little late to their next location.

5 pm on the dot, Quinn is awoken by a soft shake to her shoulder, "He's here."

She watches a familiar black BMW stop just short of the black gate. A figure stepping out the car, their attention on the grass in front. The white wooden sign, sticking out like a weed in a flower bed. And even though she can't see their face clearly, she can almost feel the panic and shock in their body language.

Maybe it is in the way they fall to their knees on the patch of grass. Or how their hands rake through their hair. Or even the way the sun hits the side of their face that Quinn finally feels a little at peace with it all. The sight of her cheating, soon to be ex-husband, broken and defeated in front of the house they once shared, with a sign for it being sold allows her to feel just a little better.

"We can go now."

The new house isn't as big as the one she had just left. In all honesty, Quinn had barely looked into the area or the house itself when the idea of buying it came up. Mercedes had shown pictures and a couple of videos to get her familiar with the space, but Quinn had never stepped foot onto the property until now. She was just getting used to room service and the hotel pillows that she could never find anywhere else in stores.

Standing in her new living room with windows unlike her old house, staring out to high trees and not much else. As inviting as it seemed when they pulled up, Quinn sees her mistake in going with ideas that she hasn't really thought over. Her trust in Mercedes too high to second guess any choices made.

But if she were to pick a positive over the negative, nothing reminded her of him. Nothing hints at their life together. There is barely any furniture but she is okay with that, noting somewhere in her mind that Mercedes will have a hell of a time with the interior decorator.

A light turns on somewhere in the distance and if Quinn squints through the high trees of her backyard she can vaguely see the next house over.

"I ordered you a bed from Passerini. They are setting it up now. Your car is already in the garage. I will have landscaping here tomorrow to add more trees so you can sleep easy without the thought of someone peeking through."

Mercedes is listing off things rather than talking to anyone in particular, waving her hands in the air for each item on her ipad. Her feet moving on their own as she continues pacing in front of Quinn.

"You and Cooper are due for an Entertainment Weekly photoshoot on Monday starting at 7am followed by Variety on Tuesday at 8am. The Hollywood Reporter has an interview slot with you on Tuesday at 1pm. That one was rescheduled by the way, we told them they could have it at the house but since we aren't there anymore I moved it to the Chateau. TV Guide on Wednesday with Santana at 1pm at her house as well as a cameo in her InStyle interior shoot at 3pm. But you might have to cancel TV Guide and InStyle because you and Cooper need to be in London for the premiere on Thursday. If I can get TV Guide earlier, I'll do it but your number one is the movie. Quinn are you listening? This is important."

"Entertainment Weekly on Monday. Variety on Tuesday. Hollywood Reporter on Tuesday. Santana on Wednesday but conflicting schedule for movie premiere in London for Thursday. Did I miss anything?" Quinn smirks while Mercedes rolls her eyes.

A couple men enter the living room from the left from a hallway, "Ma'am the bed is set. Mr. Anderson added a few selections for the bedspread with the order. We set them on the mattress."

Quinn nods and lets Mercedes sign for everything, her eyes still on the light in the distance. The sound of the front door closing, indicates the house is now void of additional bodies other than Mercedes.

"I'll email you the rest of your schedule once I get home. Puck is only a five minute drive from you if you need anything. Try to avoid the crowd of paparazzi outside, they have been camping there since I picked the house." Mercedes makes her way out of the living room and towards the front door. She turns abruptly as a thought comes to mind, "Quinn Fabray," her voice stern.

"Yes?"

"You get paid 15 million dollars per movie. You have six coming out this year alone." Quinn frowns at the statements unsure as to where the conversation is going, "Do not ever take a pillow from the Del Mar again."

Quinn opens her mouth in protest but Mercedes has her hand up, "No. I don't care how soft and comfortable they are. I'll let you keep the one you had Tina stuff it in one of your suitcases, but that is it."

A long look passes between them and Quinn knows the look is more to make sure Quinn won't breakdown as soon as the front door closes. In a surprising blink, arms encircle her frame and warmth surrounds her. She can't help but smile and embrace Mercedes back. The act unusual, but somehow, comforting.

"I'll be okay," Quinn promises.

Also thank you for the reviews, I smile with your thoughts of who is who or what's really going on. And thank you to the poor fucking soul that has to reread through my errors over and over again. And even though you have gone through it many times...I still add things and put up mistakes.