I apologize in advance for the length of this chapter, and the lack of Quinntana. BUT I really like this one, so I'm hoping you will too.

Nothing is mine, blah blah blah, you already know.

I went back to California after that. I waited around for weeks for that midnight call, but it never happened. Eventually I learned to eat and breathe and sleep again, but everything inside me ached. Nothing felt real.

A week before finals I got called into the Deans' office. Earlier this year our school had been selected for having the best journalism programs in the California, which had gotten us a lot of publicity and free laptops.

Apparently my Professor, who'd always been impressed by my work, had gotten a call from some big newspaper company in New York who was looking for interns. They were going to provide housing, food, and 5000$ spending money to 5 students specifically from our school.

"We've been trying to get in touch with you for a while now Miss. Fabray. We got the call a few weeks ago, but you've been sort of… MIA."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that…" I mumbled, trying to think of what the fuck I've been doing the past three weeks that people couldn't find me. I stopped going to classes for a while, and just watched my lectures online or got the notes from other people. I would email all my work to my teachers and spend the rest of my time in bed, staring at my phone or watching Lifetime.

"It's okay, but I just want you to know that this is a great opportunity for you, and I need to know by the end of the day whether or not you want to take it. I understand if you don't because it's very short notice, seeing as the plane leaves in exactly two weeks, but I think you should really think about this." He took his glasses off and took a deep breath like my Dad used to right before he said something really important. "You were on the Dean's list for both your freshman and sophomore year, and I don't know what's happened this year that things have gone so far south for you. All I know is that you're being given a chance you don't very well deserve, and maybe you can take this opportunity to get yourself together and get back on track."

I wasn't really listening much after that. When he was done talking I said yes, absolutely. I didn't give myself a chance to think too hard and talk myself out of it. I wasn't even sure what I was getting myself into, but I was going in headfirst.

The apartment I got in New York was so small that if I lay out on the floor, spread eagle, I could be in my bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, and living room all at the same time. Because I was the last to join, I ended up rooming by myself, which was just fine with me. I didn't much care for company.

I successfully managed to get myself back into some semblance of a normal schedule. I went back to working my ass off, even though all I was really doing was making coffee runs and filing paperwork. I wanted them to like me, to be impressed. I knew that this was big, and I couldn't just shuffle through it like I did school.

At the beginning of July we all got called into a big office. I sat smushed between this big redhead guy with pimples on his arms and this girl named Ashley with bright blue eyes and dark chocolate colored hair.

I hadn't really seen anyone since we landed in New York and got assigned rooms. I preferred to keep to myself rather than involve myself in interpersonal relationships with people I really didn't give two shits about. We had all be assigned to different parts of the building to work in, and the only time anyone really got to hang out was at night. Of course, I spent my nights with the doors locked and my face shoved in a pint of Ben&Jerry's, watching shitty movies on Netflix.

It was obvious by the way that everyone was laughing, chatting, and carrying on that I was the only one who hadn't formed any type of connection with anyone. Great, just fucking great. They were all talking about going to some bar tonight that had just opened up right down the street from the apartment, while my only plans were to figure out whether or not there was a liquor store within walking distance.

Eventually a man came in with his assistant, (who we were all familiar with because she'd pretty much been in charge of us.) His nameplate said "Tomas J Walker" and he had an uncomfortably excited demeanor. He smiled at us and sat down at the expensive looking desk that looked a lot like the one my Mom used to have before she decided she didn't need to work anymore.

"Well if this isn't the most the most spectacular bunch of scholar's I've ever laid eyes on, I surely don't know what is!" He said, followed by that laugh that only rich people can get away with.

"Oh dear lord." I heard Ashley say, under her breath so that only I could hear her. It took me off guard, and I smirked because I'd seriously run into so few people with that level of snarky-ness since I'd left Lima.

"Well, I know you all didn't come here with the expectation of spending the entire summer making coffee and trying to fix the copy machines, am I correct?" He said everything in the same perky, upbeat tone that made me cringe.

"I don't mind!" the fat redhead blurted out, and I heard Ashley whisper "kiss ass" under her breath. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"Well, as for the rest of you then, I've got an assignment. I want you to go out and find a story, about anyone you want. Do an interview, get the inside scoop, I don't care just write something and have it on my desk in a weeks' time. I'm adding a new section called 'upcoming journalist' and whoever's I thinks got it will get it. I'll be doing this every week, so let's get a move one people, we got no time to waste. Any questions? No? Okay then get the hell out of my office and go find a story!" He clapped his hands twice and shooed us away, and just like that the old Quinn was back.

Within a month I'd not only secured my position as top dog over all the interns, I was the only person that ever got featured in the "Upcoming Journalist" section, and had successfully become the envy of all my peers.

Well, all besides one. After that day in Tomas J Walker's office, Ashley began actively scoping me out. Like I would be standing by the fax machine and suddenly she would be right next to me, blabbering about what a bitch her roommate was and how my floor was the only one that ever had the good coffee.

At first it was strange to me, suddenly having human interaction again. But I quickly fell back into the flow of sarcastic banter and constant insults being hurled back and forth. And then for the first time in a long time I felt normal and human again, and Santana was the farthest thing from my mind for a while.

That is, until I got the letter. I was sitting in my room, working on an article when I heard the automatic sounding buzz of my doorbell. It was Ashley, of course. She was the only person that ever came to visit me, and she was holding a pastel yellow envelope.

"Hey, this is has been sitting in your mailbox for like, three weeks now and I figured you might want it." She said, handing it over. I took it from her, wonder who the hell was sending me anything. The only person who had my address besides my mother was Netflix, and I had yet to finish Mama Mia, so I wasn't expecting anything from anyone.

Then I looked at the return address. I guess I must have made a face or something because all of a sudden Ashley got really nervous too. "Uh, okay… I'm just going to go now."

"Yeah, okay." I said, my hand on the door. But then I stopped myself, and I'm not sure why but I stopped her too. "Hey, Ashley… You wanna come in? I got a bottle of tequila and I think Bad Girls comes on tonight… if you watch it. I've only seen a few episodes but I've been trying to turn it into a drinking game…"

She laughed at that, and that was how I found myself half drunk, eating cold pizza from my refrigerator and discussing my sex life.

"Wait wait wait, so how many guys have you had sex with?" She asked.

"Uh, three, including high school." I said, plucking the icy pepperoni off my pizza.

"And how many girls?"

I thought about it for a second, but then concluded that it was far too many to count so I held up my hands and spread my arms as far apart as they would go. "This many."

"Jesus Christ Quinn, you like a fucking rabbit." She said, laughing so hard she almost knocked the bottle off the table.

"Well, what can I say? I like sex. Whatever, how many people have you slept with?"

"Two. Both my ex-boyfriends. Both relationships last three years." She said proudly.

"Woahhh, we got a girl who likes a commitment!" I teased. She smiled and said "Better than being a whore."

"I'm so not a whore! I haven't even had sex in like..." I counted back in my head. I had stopped going out after Thanksgiving, the week Santana kissed me. I didn't really do it consciously, I just didn't really want to much after that. "Dude, it's totally been like 10 months."

"Wow dude." She imitated, "I'm like, totally proud of you."

"Yeah, but I think I miss it. A little bit, you know? Not really the fucking everybody part but the fucking part." I wasn't even sure if I was making sense at this point.

"Huh." She said thoughtfully. It was quiet for a moment, save for the Bad Girls fighting on the little TV screen. "So on a scale of 1 to 10, how gay would you say you are?"

"Like a 30." I said, without a second thought.

Ashley paused, then said "I think I'm like a 5. Like right in the middle."

"You mean bisexual?" I asked.

"Yeah. Like, I've never had sex with a girl, but I totally would. Like an experiment I guess. To see if I like it as much as I think I would."

My mind was reeling with the possibilities of what she was saying. Ashley was hot, like really really hot. She had a gorgeous body and her eyes were the color of ice. But I myself wasn't sure if I was ready to move on.

I almost smacked myself at that thought. Move on from what? My best friend, who had a boyfriend and a baby? We had nothing together besides a friendship; save for a couple of secret kisses that clearly meant nothing. So I went for it.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows at her. I set my half eaten pizza down on the counter and went over to straddle her lap. She made an "Oomph" noise in surprise, which quickly turned into a moan as our lips met, and our tongues tangled, and my hands found their way into her tank top.

We had sex that night. It was hard and fast and really, really good, and I swear to god I wouldn't have believed that was Ashley's first time with a girl if it wasn't for the fact that she asked several times "Is this okay?" and "Am I doing this right?" It was honestly adorable how innocent she could sound with three fingers jammed inside me and her mouth wrapped around my clit.

And the next morning when I woke up I didn't regret a damn thing. The old Quinn was back with a vengeance, and she wasn't going to fall again. I buried the envelope from Santana at the bottom of my closet, and refused to let myself think about it. Then I went and fucked Ashley again.

Everything after that is really a blur of drunken nights, hard work, and lots and lots of sex with Ashley. In the break room, in the bathroom at that new bar… In her room, in mine, and in her bitchy roomates bed. One time she stole the keys from the janitor to Tomas J's office, and we snuck in and had sex there too.

I found myself again that summer. It wasn't easy, but for a while I was okay again. Not really happy, but okay. I was having fun and enjoying all my life had to offer, and I should have been over the moon with excitement. But I wasn't, and I knew it. But I guess without Santana that was as good as it was ever going to get.

A couple weeks before we we're set to leave Ashley announced to me that she wasn't going back to California. She liked the people and the atmosphere in New York so much better. She said she was "sick of California and all the damn smiles and sunshine all the time." She transferred to a college close by and started looking for an apartment and a roommate.

Shortly after that I got offered a paid internship at the office, with a full time position available the second I graduated. I jumped at the opportunity, and transferred all my classes to ones online so I could stay in the city. They day everyone else said their goodbyes and went back home, Ashley and I moved into our new apartment, right up the street from the old one.

I didn't visit home much after that. My Mom was gone all the time with her soon to be husband, going on cruises and vacationing in Europe, so I had no real reason to go home. No one really wanted me there.

In November, Ashley asked me what we were. I didn't really know at that point, we hadn't really been on a date or anything, and we never even really talked that much. As far as I was concerned, we were friends that had sex a lot, but she wanted a real label. So I said she was my girlfriend and she said okay and that was that. I had a girlfriend, and that was fine with me.

Around Christmas I received another envelope from Santana, which I hid in a box under my bed along with the other one. I didn't open them, fearing that when I did all those old feeling would come spilling out and I wouldn't know what to do with them.

I fell into a rut for a long while. It was the same thing every day. Go to work, come home, finish a paper, fuck Ashley, and go to bed. On Saturdays we would go out and on Sundays we would stay in and sleep all day. Then Monday we would wake up and do the same thing all over again.

The third envelope came on April 27th. I hadn't realized the date until I was going to put it in the box, and as I dropped it I noticed the sticker on the back, holding the envelope closed. It was a little picture of Winnie the Pooh, holding a balloon and wearing a little gold crown. On the Balloon it said "Happy Birthday!" in little white letters.

And then they finally came. Those tears I was so tired of crying that I made myself forget. My chest hurt terribly and my face felt hot, and I couldn't seem to make my hands stop shaking. I was sobbing then, a whole years' worth of tears coming from my eyes faster than my shirt sleeves could catch them.

I opened the first envelope, the one I got in July. A picture fell out, but I didn't look at it. I just read the note inside.

Dear Quinn,

Elie rolled over for the first time today. It was the cutest thing. She was just sitting up on her elbows with this real determined look on her face. I thought she was pooping, to be honest… but the she started rocking back and forth, and looking like a caterpillar. And then she was rolling, all the way across the living room! She almost went under the couch, and I had to run across the room to go catch her.

She still babbles all the time. Even in her sleep, she can't seem to stop talking. It's the cutest thing Quinn, I wish you could see it.

Sincerely, San & Elie

I left the picture on the floor, ripping open the second envelope. I was the same as the first, a note and a picture that I ignored. I was going to save them for last, and look at them all at the same time.

Dear Quinn,

Elie started crawling and talking at the same time. Like really talking, using words I can understand. She yells "MAMA!" really loud when she wakes up in the morning. Sometimes your mom babysits her, when Tony and I both have to work and she's in town. She calls her "Bubbie," which is the same thing she calls Tony's mom. I guess she thinks of her as her grandmother too.

She crawls in the slow, lazy sort of way, like she has nowhere to go, and no where she needs to get fast. It's like she thinks the whole world is waiting for her, and she's going to take her good sweet time getting there.

I hope you're not mad at me Quinn. I did what I had to do. I was scared and alone, and I had to make things work. I miss you terribly.

Love, San and Elie

I stung a little to know my Mom got to see Elieana and I didn't, but I didn't let it bother me too much. It wasn't her fault at all, and she didn't know what happened between us. She never really mentioned that she had been babysitting, but she probably assumed that Santana had already told me. That and I ignore most of her calls these days.

The last letter was the longest.

Dear Quinn,

I'm not sure why you haven't come home, but I'm pretty sure I have something to do with it. I don't know if I could even see you if you did come. Tony doesn't leave anymore, and he's with me all the time, so I can't even call anyone. Not that there's anyone to call. The only person I even want to talk to pretty much hates my guts, which is understandable after the shit I said to her. That was a year ago now, wasn't it? It feels like yesterday, and it still hurts just as bad.

Tony and I started fighting again. No one knows, and no one ever will. I'm not even sure if I'm doing the right thing anymore. Elie hears us fight sometimes, and it makes her cry. Sometimes she gets mad and throws her toys at her daddy. It's kinda funny, she's just barely a toddler and she has such a feisty attitude.

She's walking now, a little bit. Not as fast as she'd like to, of course. But she'll stand up and stick her fat little arms out for balance, then wobble a couple steps, before falling. Sometimes she cries when she falls, but not because she's hurt or anything. It's because she's frustrated and it makes her mad if she can't do something. You were right when you said she's just like her Mama.

Yesterday we had her birthday party. We did it early because Tony and I were both off and her birthday was on a Tuesday. This little girl love sweets Quinn, it's insane. We're gonna be in trouble if she keeps it up, she's already a fat little thing. But she's so cute I can't help but give her everything she wants.

Sometimes when I look at her I think of you. That determined look she gets, the way her eyebrow wrinkles when she's mad. One time Tony got a call while he was feeding her and when he turned around to take it she threw a bowl of apple sauce right at his head. He was so mad, and I was worried for a second what he was going to do, but then she started giggling. Like a really loud, happy giggle, and it made him laugh too. And then we were all laughing and for a moment I thought things were going to be okay.

I live my life for moments like those, you know? Moments when everything is alright and everyone is happy and for just a few minutes, or even seconds, it feels like it's all okay. That's how I used to feel around you Quinn. And I miss it a lot.

Your Girls, San and Elie.

I picked up the picture from the envelope. On the back it said "Elie's First Chocolate Bar." I flipped it over, and immediately felt myself grin, even though the tears kept coming. In the picture, Elieana's face and hands were covered in chocolate, and she was using those hands to grab San's face and plant a big kiss on her Mommy's cheek. Santana's face was priceless, with her jaw dropped in surprise and her eyes lighting up the way they always do when she's really happy.

My heart ached a bit at seeing that smile, but I pushed the feeling away. I was going to be happy for her, or at least as happy as I could be. The next picture was of Elie crawling across the carpet, reaching for the camera. Her face was chubby and her cheeks were red and I smiled when I realized she kept those beautiful grey eyes that made her look old and wise.

The third picture said "Elie's first birthday" and the second I flipped it over I felt like all the air was sucked from my lungs. It was of Elieana and Santana, sitting on the front porch of their house in Martainsburg. Santana was sitting with her legs crossed and Elie was sitting in front of her, laughing really hard and clapping her hands. She was so big, and her hair was thick and curly. I looked really close I could see Elie was wearing a little charm bracelet, that looked just like the one I had on my wrist. She was wearing a frilly blue dress with little black bows, with a ribbon in her hair to match. Of course her Mama wouldn't have her in pink.

Then I looked at Santana. I couldn't see her very clearly, but I could tell her hair was a lot longer. She was making a face, which was what was making Elie laugh. She looked really thin, but leave it to Santana to kick the baby weight off in just a year. And then I noticed something else.

I held the picture close to my face, and I could see that her shirt had ridden up a bit. No one would have noticed if they hadn't looked really hard, but of course I did. Right where you would normally expect to see Santana's perfectly smooth tan skin there was something else. I couldn't see much, but I could tell there was no tan skin in sight. It was bruised, purplish blue.

That's what she meant when she said they were fighting again. He was hitting her, in places where no one could see it. He was getting smart, which meant it was even more dangerous now then it was before.

I heard the front door open and I shoved everything back in the box and ran to the bathroom. I didn't know what this meant, but I knew I couldn't talk to Ashley about it yet. Probably not ever. I turned on the shower and stripped off my clothes, but I didn't get in. Instead I sat on the floor, in nothing but my underwear, with every intention of taking a shower but not being able to make myself move. Instead I cried, and I felt a years' worth trouble looming over me, as I tried to force myself to forget again.