Puck disappeared for a week and a half. Or, more specifically, he disappeared out of Quinn's life for a week and a half. She knew that he was, at least, alive—Santana had traded texts with him, as had Artie and Matt—but nothing beyond that. When Santana just shook her head, her mouth tight and eyes guarded, the first time Quinn asked about him, the blonde took it as a sign that he had told whoever he spoke to that he wanted nothing to do with her or Rachel, at least for the time being.
Her concern about Puck, and his feelings towards her and her newfound relationship with Rachel, left her oscillating constantly between distraction and euphoria for those three days. Rachel managed to take Quinn's swinging moods in stride, slipping only a few times into frustration about Quinn's obvious preoccupation with the missing boy. Brittany was a constant support, as was Finn, and Santana kept Quinn up to date about the fact that Puck was at least still alive, not in jail, and still in Lima.
Quinn was sitting in the living room, staring blankly at the television while she mulled over how to handle the whole situation with Puck, when Rachel tossed one of her jackets at her. She spit out a mouthful of cotton and shot a questioning glare at the brunette.
"Come on," Rachel said by way of explanation. She shook the car keys in her hand. "Let's go find him."
"Beg pardon?"
"Noah," Rachel said. She shrugged into her own jacket, pulling her hair loose from the collar briskly. "It's not exactly a huge town, and even if it was, we can probably talk Santana or Artie or Matt into telling us where he is. Or, if we really have to, his mom or sister." She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at Quinn with wide eyes.
"I… what?"
Rachel sighed frustratedly. "Quinn," she said lowly. "Get up and put your coat on so we can go find Noah and slap some sense into him. Or, at the very least, talk to him. You're ridiculously distracted about it. I mean, you barely participated in glee today, and you haven't done a single bit of studying since we got home. If I have to go track him down alone and sedate him to get him back here so you can sort this out with him, I will. But," she added. "I'd rather you and I just go find wherever he's hiding and sit down and talk with him."
Quinn stared dumbly at Rachel, her eyes wide. "Okay?" she said meekly. She allowed Rachel to lever her off of the couch and towards the door.
"Do you know where to start looking?" Quinn asked as they pulled out of the neighborhood.
"Yes," Rachel said after a slight hesitation, biting down on her lip. She looked at Quinn out of the corner of her eye with what Quinn had come to recognize as her guilty I've-been-scheming face.
"You know where he is," she accused. "You've known the whole time!"
"Not the whole time!" Rachel said quickly. "I promise." She glanced over at Quinn once more, a plaintive look in her eyes that was clearly all but begging Quinn to believe her. "I just found out a little bit before I came downstairs. I owe Brittany about six hours of vocal lessons for getting it out of Santana—and oh, how I do not want to know how she managed that—but I was just getting so tired of watching you mope around. It's not healthy to be so distracted, and when you weren't studying for the AP exams I started to get really worried. And—"
She cut herself off, biting down on her lip and narrowing her eyes at the road nervously. Quinn raised her eyebrows, staring openly across the small car at Rachel. "And what, exactly?" she asked tartly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"And…you blew me off today during your free period," Rachel muttered, flushing darkly.
Quinn stared at her incredulously for a long few seconds before laughing shortly. "I've been freaking out all week about Puck hating us and running away, and it takes me not making out with you in the rehearsal room during third period for you to do anything about it?"
"To be fair, he ran off on Monday, and it's only Thursday," Rachel said defensively. "It's not like I watched you suffer for weeks and only did this because you wouldn't kiss me." She paused, glancing over at Quinn with a pained look in her eyes.
"I've hated watching you worry about it all week and not being able to help," she said, her voice soft. "I didn't want to push because I know you hate it when I do that, and I thought if I waited you would come to me, but then you didn't study at all yesterday or today, and then today when you blew me off I finally gave up on waiting for you to ask for my help."
Quinn remained silent, arms still crossed over her chest, though her shoulders slumped in defeat. She sighed, turning back to face the road in front of them. She didn't recognize where they were.
"Okay," she said eventually. "You're right. I'm sorry." For all that she was apologetic, it still felt like pulling teeth to verbalize it. Years of being the unapologetic queen of both middle school and high school had left her unaccustomed to actually saying the word sorry; if felt foreign on her tongue.
"It's okay," Rachel responded. Her voice cut through Quinn's discomfort. "I know that I don't understand how you feel, about the situation or where you stand with Puck, but I do understand that it's obviously very uncomfortable. I just want to help you make things right with him, however you need to.
"So I'll make out with you during third period?" Quinn said with a small smile.
"Mostly so you'll feel better," Rachel said. She shot a smirk over at Quinn. "But also so you'll make out with me during third period. It's quickly become the highlight of my days, you know."
"It outranks glee?"
"Glee was tough competition initially, but making out won in the end. Handily.
"Myspace performances?" Quinn smirked when she saw a tiny hesitation in Rachel's jaw before the brunette answered, "Also tough, but you won that one, too."
"Well," Quinn started, but she was unable to think of how to finish the thought. Instead, she unthinkingly reached over with her left hand and unwrapped Rachel's fingers on her right from the steering wheel, clasping their hands together gently.
They continued on in comfortable silence until Rachel pulled into a parking lot at an apartment complex five miles outside of the city limits. Puck's pickup truck sat in one of the distant parking spots. Quinn stared at the dilapidated building in front of her, taking in dirty windows and rusty doorknobs. Puck's truck, which was easily ten years old, was probably the nicest car in the lot.
"What is this place?" Quinn half-whispered. She shrank away from the window when she saw a man her grandfather's age stumble out of one of the doors at the other end of the building from where they sat, making his way unsteadily to a rusty blue sedan and fumbling for his keys.
Rachel clenched Quinn's hand a little tighter—whether out of comfort or fear, Quinn wasn't sure. "His father lives here," Rachel said softly.
Quinn's head snapped around to face Rachel. "His what?"
"His father," Rachel repeated. "I always thought he'd left town, but apparently not."
Quinn's head throbbed, memories racing around of a seven year old Puck with a black eye and a broken arm who said he'd fallen out of a tree; a nine year old Puck who sat out from recess for two weeks because his ribs were cracked, supposedly from playing football without pads; a fourteen year old Finn confessing to her the countless times Puck had snuck out of the house with his mother and sister when his father was drunk, of Puck and Finn staying up all night guarding the door to the guest room at Finn's house where Puck's mother and sister slept, just in case his father figured out where they were. Quinn knew that no one but Finn and Puck's family were supposed to know exactly how perfectly the senior Puckerman epitomized Lima Losers, but two years of dating Puck's best friend had led to Finn opening up to her about exactly why Puck hated his father so much.
"Has he been here the whole time?" she forced out. Without meaning to, her fingers clenched tightly around Rachel's hand. The small gasp of pain from the other girl fell on Quinn's deaf ears as she stared fearfully at the pickup truck sitting in the parking lot.
"Yes," Rachel squeaked out. "Quinn, please, my hand."
"What?" Quinn muttered distractedly. She only pulled her eyes away from the pickup truck when she felt Rachel's free hand wrapping around her wrist and tugging. "Oh," she said, eyes wide. She immediately released Rachel's hand, pulling her arm back quickly. "I'm sorry. I just…"
Her voice trailed off as she looked back towards Puck's truck. "Does Finn know he's here?"
"I don't think so," Rachel said. She was staring at Quinn inquisitively. "Quinn, what's wrong?"
"He shouldn't be here," Quinn mumbled. Even throughout everything she had been through with Puck—falling into bed with him behind Finn's back, fighting with him over the fate of their child, her frustration and anger at his apparently incessant need for sex, his anger at her decisions that kept them apart—and even though they had never actually been friends, she could do little to avoid the building concern at the knowledge that he was with the man who had abused his entire family.
Shame warred with concern, as she bitterly realized that he was only there because of her.
"Quinn," Rachel said sharply.
"Call Finn," Quinn said, her voice quiet. "We need to get him out of there, but I doubt he'll listen to either of us."
"Quinn," Rachel said again. She reached out, her hand coming to rest on Quinn's forearm.
"Rachel, please," Quinn snapped. "Get Finn over here."
"Okay," Rachel said softly. She kept her hand on Quinn's arm as she retrieved her phone with the other and dialed Finn. Quinn's eyes remained locked on the truck, Rachel's short conversation with Finn incomprehensible through her racing thoughts. She only moved when Rachel's hand shifted on her arm, sliding down to grasp her hand.
"Is he coming?"
"Five minutes," Rachel said. She slid her fingers between Quinn's. "Will you tell me why the both of you are so concerned about this?"
Quinn exhaled slowly, turning back to face a confused Rachel. "It's not really my place to tell," she said haltingly. "I mean, I'm not even really supposed to know, I only know because Finn told me a few years ago." She hesitated, gripping Rachel's fingers tighter instinctively.
"His dad isn't just a loser," Quinn whispered. "He's a real bastard." She almost smirked at the surprised look in Rachel's eyes are Quinn's swearing—as sharp as her tongue had always been, she had never needed curses to drive home a point—but couldn't summon the energy.
Rachel remained silent, her eyes focused on their intertwined fingers. Quinn could practically hear the gears in her head turning as she put the pieces together.
"He hit them," she said eventually. It wasn't a question, and Quinn nodded wordlessly. She watched as Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Why would he come here, then?"
"I don't know," Quinn said. "I guess he didn't want us to find him?"
"But Santana knew he was here," Rachel said. Her eyes flashed. "Why would she let him stay here?"
"She doesn't know," Quinn said. "No one did, except Finn and his mom. I don't think that Puck even knows that Finn told me anything about it."
"That's stupid," Rachel muttered. "There are people who could have helped. The police, social services, there are shelters for abuse victims. Why didn't they go to them?"
Quinn shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," she said. "But this is Puck, you know? He thinks he can take on the whole world."
"Except for getting a slushie to the face," Rachel mumbled. Her eyes flicked over Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn turned to see Finn leaping out of his car. She shoved her door open and scrambled out to meet him.
"He's been here the whole time?" Finn asked hurriedly.
"Apparently," Quinn said. "I don't know why he came, but you know you're the only one who can get him to come home."
"Yeah," Finn muttered, his jaw set. Quinn could only ever remember seeing him so upset once before, and it had ended with Puck nursing a sore jaw and her homeless once again. "Which one?"
"Eighteen," Rachel said softly. She looked tiny standing between the two of them, arms wrapped around her stomach guiltily. Quinn could see the fear in her eyes and felt a stab of guilt for panicking on Rachel. She watched as Finn nodded shortly and stalked off towards the apartment with a short "Stay here," issued to the both of them.
"You don't think that…" Rachel seemed unable to make herself finish the sentence, but her meaning was clear. Quinn leaned against the car, her hands trembling.
"I don't know," she whispered. "Puck's tough, he can handle himself in a fight."
Rachel nodded, her eyes locked on the door that Finn had just shoved his way through. She stepped to Quinn's side, arms wrapping around the taller girl's waist. Quinn shifted closer, her arms instinctively going around Rachel's shoulders and her forehead dropping down to rest atop Rachel's hair.
Neither of them moved—Quinn was unsure if she even breathed—until the door that Finn had disappeared through flew open and Finn dragged Puck out by the shirt. Quinn shuddered as she saw them both duck under a bottle that came flying out the door and hit the railing, shattering.
"Oh, God," Rachel practically whimpered. Her fingers tightened on Quinn's jacket. They stared as Finn followed Puck down the stairwell, then led him over to where they stood.
Quinn locked eyes with Puck, who looked unbelievably exhausted. She knew it was probably impossible for him to have become visibly thinner in less than two weeks, but he certainly looked it. There was stubble on his cheeks and the slightest shadow of a bruise on his jaw, and she clenched her jaw in anger.
Untangling herself from Rachel, she moved towards them, meeting him halfway across the parking lot. He broke their gaze, the muscles in his jaw working silently, and glared at some spot over her shoulder.
"Puck," she whispered. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he said shortly. "What the hell are you guys doing here?"
"Getting your dumb ass out of there, that's what," Finn said bluntly. He shoved Puck in the shoulder. "What the hell were you thinking, going to him?"
"He's family," Puck muttered, shoving Finn's hand off his shoulder. "I needed a break."
"So you came here?" Finn said incredulously. "Dude, seriously. What the hell?"
"What the hell do you care?" Puck snapped. He shoved Finn back. "Either of you. You," he jammed his finger into Finn's shoulder, pushing him back further. "Hate me for sleeping with your girlfriend. And you," he whirled on Quinn, who stubbornly held her ground. "Don't even care that we were going to have a kid together and decided to go all lesbian instead of being with me. Explain to my why the hell I would have come to either of you?"
"We're your friends," Quinn said softly.
"Bull," Puck snorted. "We were never friends and you know it." He was focused only on Quinn now, his eyes narrowed in anger.
"Maybe I'm not your friend," Quinn said. "But I consider you a friend. I know you think I hate you or something, but I really don't."
"But you'd rather completely forget that we had anything and go jump in her bed," he said coldly.
"Hey," Finn said, stepping to Quinn's side defensively. "Out of line, dude. You're still my best friend, but don't think I won't punch you again."
Quinn reached out and pulled Finn back gently. "It's okay," she said. "I deserved that." She cut off his protests with a silently raised eyebrow. "Can you give us a minute?"
"Now?"
"Now."
He sighed. "Don't make me come break up a fight," he said. "Either of you." He eyed the both of them threateningly, arms crossed over his chest, before striding over to where Rachel stood wringing her hands.
"Puck," Quinn whispered. "Please let me explain, okay?"
"Explain what?" He glared at her, but seemed unable to muster any real anger. "The part where I always come in second place, or the part where you decided that being a dyke would be fun, or the part where I had to find out from Santana and Brittany at a meeting with the fucking glee club?"
"Please," she pleaded, stepping closer. "Puck, this isn't about you coming in second. You have to know that."
"Yeah, right."
Quinn took a deep breath, looking down at her feet to compose herself. "I was going to keep her," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I had a name picked out for her, and we were going to be a family, because I wanted her and I wanted you and I wanted all three of us together. But then—then we lost her." Her breath hitched in her throat, her eyes starting to burn, and she ashamedly scrubbed her hands over her eyes. Tears were shining in his own eyes.
"I had all these dreams for her," Quinn went on. She swallowed the lump that was rising in her throat. "She was going to have blonde hair like I do, but she was going to have your eyes. Every time I dreamed about her, she had your eyes, and you were always there looking out for her, because I knew you really would."
He was crying silently now, and Quinn wrapped her arms around herself to keep from grabbing onto him, holding onto him and holding him up as best she could. "I look in your eyes and I see her," she forced out. Her voice cracked, and the tears finally started to slip loose. "Every time I look at you, all I can see if her, and I feel like I'm going to drown and that I did everything wrong and she paid the price, and I hate myself."
"It's not your fault," he mumbled. "You know that."
"Maybe not," she said. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't feel like it is." She took a small step forward, a hand going out tentatively to rest on his forearm. He was trembling beneath her fingers.
"I wanted to be with you," she said softly. "A part of me still does. But I'm a disaster right now, and I can't do anything to make myself stop thinking about how much I screwed everything up. And for some reason, the only time anything makes sense, the only time I don't feel like I lost my daughter as some kind of retribution, is when she kisses me."
She hesitated as he tensed under her hand. "I'm sorry," she went on. "I didn't plan for this to happen. I thought that maybe—that maybe we had a chance. But after everything that happened, I just… I don't know if what I'm doing is right, but it's the only thing that doesn't feel wrong, you know?" She inhaled shakily. "And I really, really need that, more than anything right now."
He was silent for a long while, staring down to where her hand rested on his arm. Finally, he moved, shoving his hands into his pockets and squaring his shoulders.
"I can't be happy for you about being with her," he said slowly.
She nodded sadly, wrapping her arms around her stomach. Her shoulders slumped tiredly.
"Can we try to be friends?" she asked in a small voice. "I know you don't believe me right now, but I do care about you."
"I don't know," he said. The raw honesty in his voice hurt more than she expected it to. "I'm as jacked up by this as you are. I thought we could maybe get each other through it, but I guess that won't work if you can't look at me without hating yourself." The wounded tone to his voice brought a fresh wave of guilt rolling through Quinn's stomach, and she felt like she may vomit.
"It's not your fault," she said. "Please tell me you get that. It's not because of you, it's because—"
"I get it," he interrupted. "At least, I think I do. I don't like it, but I get it."
"Thank you," she whispered. Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers tracing over the faded bruise on his jaw. "I'm so sorry it came to this. I really wish you hadn't come here."
He shrugged. "I needed a place to stay."
"I'm sorry," she said again. She pulled her hand back slowly. "I didn't know they were going to tell everyone like that. They thought they were helping but it just didn't work out too well."
"You and Finn weren't in there," he said slowly. "You told him yourself."
Quinn flushed, looking down. "Yeah," she said.
He shook his head, laughing humorlessly. "He's always number one."
"I'm sorry," she repeated hoarsely. "I keep doing everything wrong, with you and with him, and I never know how to fix it."
"I'll live," he said. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket. "I'm going to go home." He paused, staring at her intently, and moved as if to kiss her cheek. Instead, he just rested his hand on her shoulder awkwardly for a moment before turning and walking to his truck. Quinn watched him walk away.
"Puck," she called suddenly. He paused, not turning around. "Will you be in school tomorrow?"
"Probably not," he said. She bit down on her lip, swallowing the reprimand she wanted to voice about him blowing off high school. "But I'll be there Monday. Tell Mr. Scheu I'll catch up on the set list over the weekend."
Quinn remained where she was, feet rooted to the cracked pavement in the middle of the parking lot, as he climbed into his truck and drove off. She didn't move when Finn paused next to her on his way to his car and rested a hand on her shoulder before driving off after Puck, and only uprooted her shoes when she felt Rachel's hand wrap around hers and pull her towards the car.
Halfway back to town, Rachel pulled the car over and parked, turning to face a silent Quinn. The blonde continued to stare silently out the window, taking in the heavy rainclouds that hung ominously above them.
"Quinn," Rachel said clearly. "Look at me, please."
"What?" Quinn asked, her voice dull. She slowly turned to look at Rachel, who was staring at her with appraising eyes.
"I need to ask you something," Rachel said. "I don't want to, but I would be remiss, as your friend more than anything, if I didn't."
Quinn stared blankly out the windshield. "It's going to rain," she commented.
"Quinn," Rachel said again. "Are you listening to me?"
"Kinda hard not to," Quinn sniped. Somewhere, between thoughts of the bruise on Puck's jaw and the frustration in his eyes and Sarah Noelle Puckerman, she knew she shouldn't snap at Rachel, but such thoughts were drowned out by guilt and frustration and sheer anger at the situation they were all in.
"I'll let the fact that you're being mean slide, as I know that you just had a very intense and emotional interaction with Noah," Rachel said. "Which is what I need to talk to you about."
"I don't want to talk about it," Quinn muttered.
"I need to ask," Rachel said again. She paused. "Would you rather be with him than me?"
Quinn turned slowly to look at her, eyebrows creeping towards her hairline. She stared at Rachel, who looked unusually nervous, for a long moment before scoffing disdainfully and shoving her way out of the car. She walked without aim, stalking off into the field they were parked next to. Grass that was still struggling to grow into spring swished at her ankles, and the first drops of rain dropped onto her shoulders.
She heard Rachel chasing after her, but refused to stop until she felt Rachel's hand wrap around her wrist, tugging her to a stop. She whirled around, eyes flashing as she glared down at Rachel.
"Why do you have to ask that?" she snarled. Though she knew that she looked and sounded like the person she had been a year ago, there was no comforting feeling of power and control accompanying her anger. Instead she felt like she did when she was still learning how to drive and, in the middle of a thunderstorm, the car hydroplaned and she had thought they were going to crash into a ditch as all four wheels momentarily skimmed over the water. "Why the hell would you ask me that, now?"
"Because it's a valid question," Rachel said desperately. "You didn't see yourself, Quinn. You looked like you wanted nothing more than to go with him and put him back together." The obvious pain in her voice did little to temper Quinn's growing anger.
"Of course I did!" she bellowed. "If I fix him then maybe there's a chance someone can fix me and then I can be a real person again!" She stalked past Rachel, stomping back towards the road. Slowing to a stop beside the car, she dropped her arms atop the roof, her forehead falling down to rest on her arms as she took deep breaths, trying to reign in her temper.
She tensed when she felt Rachel's hand on her shoulder, clenching her teeth together around the air she'd just inhaled.
"I'm sorry," Rachel was saying slowly. "But I need to know." She paused, and Quinn realized that both of them were trembling. She heard Rachel take a deep breath before continuing, "Because if I need to get out of the way, I will."
Quinn spun around, moving quickly enough to startle herself and make Rachel jump unintentionally. She stared at Rachel incredulously, hands hanging limply at her sides. "How can you ask that?" she asked in a small voice.
Rachel stepped back in hesitantly, her entire body tense, as if she expected Quinn to attack her. "Because both of you are my friends," she said quietly. "Because you're my best friend, regardless of any romantic relationship we may have, and if he's what you want, what you need, then I don't want to get in the way of that."
"Christ, Berry, sometimes you're a complete moron," Quinn muttered, rolling her eyes. Before Rachel could respond—and Quinn could see the indignation rising in Rachel's eyes, her lips parting to protest—Quinn grabbed her wrist and yanked her around, pressing her against the car and kissing her with something that bordered on desperation. When she pulled back enough to inhale greedily, she felt lightheaded.
"How many times," she gasped out, still trying to find her breath. "Do I need to tell you that I'm trying?"
"I—" Rachel started, then stopped, staring up at Quinn with an unreadable expression in her dark eyes. Quinn stared back, locking eyes with her and challenging her to continue. Instead, Rachel surged forward and kissed her again, and again, and only pulled back when Quinn was practically falling against her and the air around them was growing heavy with the threat of rain, thunder rolling ominously and softly above them. Every rumble of the sky above her echoed in Quinn's chest, as if kissing Rachel carried the same volatile power of a thunderstorm.
"It's going to rain," Rachel mumbled. "We should go."
"Yeah, sure," Quinn said distractedly. Rachel looked up at her solemnly, her eyes far too solemn for someone who looked as thoroughly kissed as she did.
"You're sure?" The remainder of the question hung silently between them.
"I can't be with him," Quinn said. Her throat ached. "I can't even look at him without wanting to cry."
Rachel looked up at her with a pained look. "That's not what I'm asking," she said. Her words were clipped, her voice tight, and Quinn could tell that she was getting frustrated. "Why won't you give me a straight answer?"
"Because I don't have one!" Quinn shot back. She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you expect from me? In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of stuck in the middle of a huge existential crisis right now and you hammering me with questions is not helping! You're not even asking me a straight question, anyways," she added petulantly.
"Fine," Rachel said, hands on her hips. She glared at Quinn defiantly, chin lifted. "Do you want to be with me? Is that a straightforward enough question for you, or should I draw a diagram?"
"Don't try to be a smartass with me," Quinn sneered. She took a step forward, using her height to her full advantage as she towered over Rachel and relished in the thrill of adrenaline when Rachel's confidence wavered visibly. "You've never been nearly as good at it as I am."
"Then just answer me," Rachel said in a small voice. "Please."
The adrenaline swooped out of Quinn's body as quickly as it had appeared, and her hands fell to her side lifelessly as she sighed. She slowly turned away from where Rachel stood, pushing her hands through her hair and staring out across the field she had been stomping across just minutes ago.
"I told you that I'm not easy," she said softly. Her voice was almost lost in the open air in front of her, so quiet that she could hardly tell if Rachel had heard her. "I told you."
Rachel appeared at her side, arms wrapped around herself as she stared out across the field as well. "I know that," she whispered. "I know you aren't."
"Then why do you keep pushing me?" Quinn asked. She turned tired eyes to stare at Rachel. "I don't know much of anything anymore. I don't know who I am or who I'm going to be, or who I even want to be. I don't know what I'm doing or if I'm handling anything properly. I don't know what I want or what I need or what I should want." She took a slow, wavering breath, turning back to stare out in front of her. She could feel Rachel standing tensely beside her.
"When I was talking with Finn last week," she started slowly. "I told him that the only time I feel like things might be okay again is when you kiss me. And when I was talking to Puck just now, I told him that I didn't know if what I was doing with you was the right thing or not."
Rachel tensed even more beside her, and Quinn took a deep breath before shifting to face the brunette. She waited until Rachel turned to meet her eyes before continuing.
"But I also told him that even if I don't know if it's right, I know that it's the only thing that doesn't feel wrong." She reached out hesitantly, and counted it as a tiny victory when she took hold of one of Rachel's hands without Rachel jerking away. "It's like you're the only thing that's holding me together sometimes. I feel like someone broke me into all these little pieces and I'm trying so hard to track them all down and make them fit together, but nothing fits like it used to. And it's terrifying and it hurts and every time I find one piece, I feel like I'm losing my grip on another. But then you're there and you kiss me and you're there when I wake up from a nightmare, and even though I keep losing all of the pieces, you're like this safety net that catches all of them when I can't.
"It doesn't make sense," Quinn said. Rachel's eyes were wide and overbright, shining against the fading sunlight around them. "And I'm so scared that I only want you because you're like a life ring that's keeping me from drowning, that I'm going to hurt you like I hurt everyone else. But I'm more scared that if I try to do any of this without you, I'll lose everything."
She bit her lip, feeling her own fingers trembling against Rachel's. "Does that answer your question?"
Rachel nodded, looking as if she were torn between crying and laughing with relief; she seemed to settle on splitting the difference, as tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes as they crinkled up from a smile. She pulled Quinn closer, holding her tightly. Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist tightly, clinging to her as she took slow deep breaths in an attempt to keep from crying, the intensity and range of her emotions from the entire afternoon threatening to crash over her with all of the destructive power of a tidal wave.
"It's going to rain," Rachel murmured, her lips pressed against Quinn's hair. "And as romantic as it might be to stand here and kiss you in the rain, it's not summer yet and I don't want either of us to get sick."
Quinn giggled tiredly into Rachel's shoulder, her fingers gripping tighter to Rachel's sweater. "Just a few more minutes," she mumbled. "Please?"
"Okay," Rachel said softly. One hand ran slowly up and down Quinn's back.
When they finally moved back into the car, lightening was starting to flash across the sky, and Quinn had finally stopped trembling. She wrapped her hands around Rachel's right arm, pulling it onto the center console and pillowing her head comfortably on it, the fingers on her left hand tangling with Rachel's.
She was all but asleep by the time they made it back home.