When Puck returned to school, all dark circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks and a barely-there bruise on his jaw, no one had the courage to approach him about his reaction or absence. Mr. Scheu looked at a loss as to any of his anticipated words of wisdom, and the rest of the glee club hovered awkwardly around the room, as if torn between fear of him exploding and pity for his obvious heartache.

Quinn wasn't sure if she was surprised or not that it was Finn that stuck by Puck's side like glue throughout it all. There was some kind of sweet irony in it, really, that she was the one who drove them apart, who broke both their hearts, and it took her walking away from them yet again for their friendship to come back together. She watched, holding her place in his periphery with Rachel at her side and a dull pain in her stomach at how he now looked perpetually like the boy with sad eyes who she had let take her to bed, and hated how the rest of the club felt like they for some reason had to protect her and Rachel from Puck.

Really, Quinn thought bitterly, they needed to be watching out for Puck and Rachel and Finn; she had a nasty habit of stepping all over their hearts. But the part of her that had been so desperate for friendship and support and camaraderie just short months earlier quashed the bitter thoughts. She was unprepared to sacrifice their support, regardless of how misguided it was.

The days leading up to the AP exams—which fell a mere week before Regionals—slid by slowly, and perpetual uncertainty morphed into habit. Quinn fell into a routine, waking up early to go running with Finn in the mornings and making it back in time to shower before eating breakfast with a fresh-off-the-elliptical Rachel; at school, they staked out the rehearsal room during third period every day and ate lunch with the rest of the glee club. In the afternoons, what time wasn't taken up with rehearsals for Regionals was dedicated to studying, which at least twice a week resulted in an argument with Rachel, who would practice in her room while Quinn studying, distracting the blonde constantly from her work. Two evenings a week, Quinn would drive to her parents' house and have dinner, telling herself repeatedly that every painful silence between herself and her father would be worth it once they could finally reconcile; she came home to the Berry household each and every time and forewent studying for the rest of the night, opting instead to curl up in Rachel's bed and listen to the brunette sing until Quinn had drifted off to sleep.

The afternoon after Quinn's final AP exam—Rachel having had only one to worry about and having finished four days earlier, while Quinn panicked about the full day of economics that capped off her tests—she stretched out exhaustedly on a bench outside of the school, head pillowed on her arms and eyes shut behind her sunglasses in the warm sunlight as she waited for Rachel to come pick her up. The brunette was at home with a private vocal coach, still concerned about Regionals, and would be busy for another half an hour. Quinn basked in the solitude and the realization that she was all but done with school for the year; there were her class finals, but those would be cake compared to the AP exams, and the only other thing she had to concern herself with was Regionals.

The sound of her name being called drew her out of her relaxation, and she opened one eye behind her sunglasses—stolen from Rachel that morning—and looked around sleepily for who she assumed would be Rachel. Instead, she saw her sister standing in front of her, arms crossed and an amused look on her face.

"Devon," Quinn mumbled in surprise, bolting upright. "What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you, too, little sister," Devon said with a smirk. She pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head and dropped down next to Quinn, elbowing the younger blonde playfully. "I flew in this morning."

"Why?"

Devon shrugged. "Mom called me," she said simply. "She said you were stressing like mad and she was worried."

"You flew in from New Mexico because… Mom thinks I'm too stressed out?"

"Yep." Devon leaned back against the bench, crossing her arms casually. Her gaze softened slightly, and she bumped her shoulder against Quinn's. "She doesn't know what to do anymore," she said quietly. "They screwed up so badly, and she wants to fix it, but she doesn't know how, so I guess she's doing what she can without interfering."

"Interfering?" Quinn felt a headache coming in to press at her temples, her sister's words confusing her.

"Something like that. I guess she's come to terms with the fact that you're not going to move home, and that they can't ask you to."

"Dad wouldn't anyways," Quinn muttered. "He still hates me. He won't even talk to me when I'm there."

"Dad is…" Devon started. She sighed. "He's a jerk sometimes, but we always knew that. He sucks at acknowledging that he screwed up, and he screwed up majorly with this whole thing. I doubt he can even admit it to himself, much less anyone else."

Quinn grunted in agreement, slumping back next to Devon. "That still doesn't explain why you're here."

"I took a few weeks off from work," Devon said cheerfully. "I'm kidnapping you for the weekend and we're going to go to Columbus, and then I'm going to go with you to your singing thingy and absolutely embarrass you with a really big cardboard sign."

"You're what?"

Devon laughed, elbowing her once more. "Relax, kiddo," she said. "I'll leave the sign out of it. But you're not getting out of the Columbus weekend, and I'm definitely coming to this competition. I mean, come on. I always knew you could sing but I never thought you'd end up doing it for a prize. Which," she added. "I'm still pissed at you for not telling me about, by the way."

Quinn winced internally, her sister's light tone betrayed by the solemn look in her eyes. It was clear that Devon was referring to far more than just Quinn's participation in glee. "I know," she mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"I got over it," Devon said brightly. She jumped up from the bench and dragged Quinn up next to her, looping their arms together. "Now come on, little sister. We have packing to do."

"But Rachel—"

"Ah, yes, Rachel," Devon said. "How is the illustrious future Broadway star?"

"She's good," Quinn said, praying that the flush she felt in her cheeks wasn't visible. "But we were going to do something Saturday."

"Take a rain check," Devon said. She pushed Quinn into the passenger seat of her car. "Tell her I'm in town and you can't say no to me because I can still put you in a headlock."

"That was one time and I totally won the next fight," Quinn muttered. "And you tell her," she added childishly. "I'm not going to be the one that cancels on one of Rachel Berry's big planned weekends."

"Coward," Devon sang out. "But okay. I'll tell her."

The drive to the Berry household passed quickly, filled with Devon shooting questions at Quinn about her AP exams and Regionals, and Quinn marveling at how uncannily similar to Rachel her sister seemed. They pulled into the driveway just as Rachel was walking out the front door with her keys in hand; the brunette stopped mid-stride with a puzzled look on her face as Quinn stepped out of Devon's car.

"What are you doing here?" she asked confusedly.

"I kidnapped her," Devon said, popping up on the other side of the car. "Hey, Rachel."

"Devon? What are you doing here?"

"I'm in town for a few weeks," Devon said. "And I'm stealing Q here for the weekend and some sisterly bonding time. Hope that's cool."

Quinn winced at her sister's flippant announcement and the fleeting wounded look in Rachel's eyes.

"Of course!" Rachel said brightly, a wide smile on her lips. "That sounds lovely."

"See?" Devon said. She stuck her tongue out at Quinn. "It sounds lovely."

Quinn made a face at her sister, who rolled her eyes in return and started typing out a text message on her phone, before snatching her backpack out of the car and jogging up to where Rachel was almost into the house. "Rach," she said softly, grabbing Rachel's hand. "I'm sorry, I had no idea she was going to show up—"

"It's okay," Rachel said. She offered what Quinn assumed was meant to be a reassuring smile, but it wavered.

"No, I know you had plans for us this weekend," Quinn said. "Really, she's here through Regionals, I can get her to put this off until after that."

"You don't have to do that," Rachel said. She squeezed Quinn's hand. "We can hang out after Regionals."

"Maybe I wanted to spend the weekend with you," Quinn mumbled petulantly. Her annoyance with the entire situation slipped to the background at the sudden shift in Rachel's demeanor at her words. She could never have guessed that such a simple statement would cause Rachel to look rather like she had just won an Oscar, but somehow it did, and Quinn could hardly keep herself from smiling shyly in return.

Rachel squeezed her hand again, her thumb tracing over the back of Quinn's hand briefly. "It's really okay," she said reassuringly. "I can reorganize my plans for another weekend, and you go have fun with your sister. You know that I think it's good for you to reconnect with your family."

"Are you sure?" Quinn said, uncertainty bringing a waver to her voice.

"Absolutely," Rachel said. "But I'm reserving the right to throw a tantrum if my plans get nixed next time."

"Noted," Quinn said softly. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Devon with her back to them as she spoke to someone on her phone, and quickly leaned in to press a brief kiss to Rachel's lips. "Plans will not be nixed."

Rachel smiled affectionately up at Quinn, squeezing Quinn's hand once more before clearing her throat loudly. "Let's go get you packed up," she said, her voice loud enough that Devon could hear. "I would hate to postpone your plans with your sister."

Quinn made a face, but allowed Rachel to pull her towards the door. "You just want to go upstairs and make out in my room, don't you?" she muttered as she obediently followed Rachel, her body trailing after the hand that Rachel was pulling along behind her.

"Perhaps," Rachel said lightly. "But also, theoretically, the sooner you leave, the sooner you can get back."

"I really don't think it works that way," Quinn said. "But fine. If you say so."

Half an hour and ten minutes of hasty packing later, Quinn followed Rachel down the stairs to the living room, an overnight bag hanging from one shoulder. Devon sat with Rachel's father Eric in the living room, entertaining him with a story about her honeymoon that Quinn had heard at least half a dozen times.

Quinn dropped down next to her sister, letting her bag fall to the floor in front of her, as Eric commented on Devon's story. Rachel squeezed in between Quinn and the arm of the couch, and Quinn felt a flood of warmth spreading from her chest when Rachel's hand rested comfortingly on her lower back, hidden from view.

"So, little sister," Devon said suddenly. She turned to face Quinn. "Ready to be kidnapped?"

"Ecstatic," Quinn said blandly.

"I'm sure it will be a wonderful weekend," Rachel said. Her thumb slid back and forth reassuringly over Quinn's t-shirt, and Quinn bit her lip to keep from smiling. "What do you have planned, Devon?"

"Oh, you know, girly things," Devon said flippantly. "Spa time, shopping, junk food, going to movies to ogle at Gerard Butler." She offered a triumphant grin to Quinn when both Rachel and Eric nodded approvingly at the latter portion of her comment.

"That sounds fantastic," Rachel said. "You're going to have loads of fun."

"That's the plan," Devon said. She hopped up from the couch and grabbed Quinn's bag with one hand, reaching out for Quinn with the other. "Chop chop, little sister. Lots to do and so very little time to do it."

"Yes ma'am," Quinn said automatically, reluctantly letting herself be pulled up and away from the comforting weight of Rachel's presence at her side. "I would hate to make us late for you mandatory fun." She squeaked when Devon swatted one of her shoulders and Rachel, who had apparently stood up as Quinn did, smacked the other. "Ow!"

"Behave," Rachel said warningly, her tone betrayed by the spark of laughter in her eyes that Quinn had grown accustomed to seeking out.

"I knew I liked this kid," Devon said. She held her hand out for Rachel to high-five; the brunette blinked and stared at her for a short but awkward moment before flashing her bright grin and slapping her palm against Devon's.

"Right then," Devon said. She shouldered Quinn's bag. "Rachel, Eric, it was great seeing you again. I promise to bring her back in one piece." She shook Eric's hand briefly and directed a comical salute at Rachel before slinging her free arm around Quinn's shoulders. "Off we go, kiddo."

"Yay," Quinn deadpanned. She waved to Eric, shot a desperate look at Rachel, and let herself be steered out to Devon's car.

By the time they made it to Columbus, Quinn was sure that they had run out of things to talk about. She and Devon, while always getting along quite well, had nevertheless been too far apart in age to ever be terribly close. Once they had covered school—which centered around the fact that Quinn's mother and Devon both felt that she had taken far too many AP classes, with a brief segue into what colleges Quinn was considering and Devon being offended that Brown was left off the list—and glee—which centered around Regionals and the songs they would be performing—Quinn was at a loss for anything else to talk about.

Thankfully, Devon let the conversation die down, and instead made disparaging comments about the music on the radio until Quinn, with an exaggerated eye roll, plugged her iPod in. Singing along to the Ronettes carried them the rest of the way to the hotel, where Quinn followed Devon quietly up to their room in the Holiday Inn and collapsed tiredly onto one of the beds, an arm over her eyes.

"Please tell me you don't have any big plans for tonight," she said tiredly. "I'm so tired."

"Don't worry," Devon said. Quinn smirked when she heard a poorly-concealed yawn. "I'm beat, too. I did fly in this morning, you know."

"Right," Quinn said. She didn't even bother trying to hold in her own yawn. "So… sleep?"

"Sleep," Devon agreed.

Quinn grumbled contentedly and shimmied around on the bed so she could drop her head onto one of the pillows. She heard the telling sounds of Devon digging through her suitcase and brushing her teeth in the bathroom, and was almost completely asleep when she felt her shoes come off and the comforter from the bed fold up around her.

She bolted awake just after five the next morning, her heart slamming against her chest and lungs burning, the image of a blonde toddler fading from the back of her eyelids. Automatically, Quinn reached out for where Rachel would normally be, stirring awake and pulling Quinn back down and holding her until she could return to sleep; instead, there was only the scratchy material of a hotel comforter and the sound of the air conditioner that was blasting cold air.

Gasping for breath, torn between being quiet and finding oxygen, Quinn looked over to the other bed. Devon lay with her back to Quinn, her breathing slow and steady. Silently, Quinn untangled herself from the comforter and tiptoed to the bathroom, pausing to pull her phone out of her bag.

Sitting on the floor next to the bathtub, Quinn numbly hit the redial on her phone, holding it up to her ear with trembling fingers. After the fourth ring, she was sure that Rachel wouldn't pick up, and was about to end the call after the sixth when a sleepy greeting floated into her ear.

"Hi," she whispered. Her voice was gravelly from sleep. "I know it's early, I'm sorry—"

"It's fine," Rachel said. Her voice was as raspy as Quinn's own, and Quinn heard shuffling in the background as Rachel sat up. "Are you okay?"

"Yes?"

"You're not even attempting to lie well," Rachel said bluntly. "Besides, why else would you call me at 5:06 on a Saturday morning?"

"Maybe I missed you?" Quinn said. Banter was familiar, comforting, simple; if she couldn't have Rachel there to calm her down, she could at least find some solace in talking with her.

"Perhaps," Rachel said slowly, as if mulling it over. "I do have a multitude of extremely likable qualities, any one of which would be easy to miss."

"Your humility is definitely at the top of the list," Quinn said sardonically. A faint smile tugged at her lips.

"Second only to my modesty, I'm sure," Rachel said. She sighed exaggeratedly. "What can I say? I'm just fabulous all around."

Quinn opened her mouth to reply, content to sit on the hard floor of the bathroom and chat lightheartedly until her heart slowed down, but her voice caught in her throat. She swallowed audibly, biting down on her lip to reign in the lump she felt growing in her throat.

"You had a nightmare," Rachel said softly. There was no questioning in her tone.

"Yeah," Quinn whispered. She pulled her knees up to her chest, pushing herself into the corner formed by the bathtub and the wall. The sound of Rachel's weary sigh floated over the phone, and Quinn bit down on her lip, determined not to cry.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said. "I wish I could help."

"You are," Quinn mumbled. "Just… can we just talk for a while? It's kind of like you're here if we do."

"Of course," Rachel said. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know," Quinn said. "Anything?" She regretted the last word as soon as it was out of her mouth, but it was too late to rescind it, as Rachel immediately launched into a description of her vocal lesson that day.

Swallowing a sigh, Quinn relaxed, curled up in the corner on the floor in the bathroom, and let her head rest against the wall behind her as she listened to Rachel talk. The words blended together in her ears, melding into a soft hum, and Quinn's heart slowly returned to normal, her breathing slowing down and eyes fluttering shut.

"Quinn?" The sound of her name over the phone pulled her back from falling into sleep once more. "Are you asleep?"

"Yes," Quinn mumbled.

"Clearly, you're not," Rachel said. Even half-asleep, Quinn could all but hear a smile in her voice. "Do you think you can get back to sleep now?"

"Probably," Quinn said through a yawn.

"I'm not trying to hang up on you," Rachel said hurriedly. "I'm perfectly okay with staying up and talking to you until you can sleep, but if you can sleep now I—"

"I'm good, Rach," Quinn said. "Honest."

"Okay," Rachel said softly. "Are you okay?"

"More or less." Quinn sat up slightly, wincing at the pain in her neck—between spending all day with her head bent over exams and almost an hour folded up into a corner with her head resting against the bathtub, it would be a wonder if her spine wasn't permanently convoluted.

"You know, if you really don't want to stay in Columbus, we can probably think up a way to get you out of it," Rachel offered. "It wouldn't be hard to convince Mr. Scheuster that we need to practice all weekend."

Quinn smiled sleepily as Rachel continued to ramble on about how beneficial it would be for the club if they actually did practice all weekend. She shifted into a more comfortable position, pillowing her head on her arm atop the rim of the bathtub, and listened to the sound of Rachel's voice echoing in her ear.

The next time Rachel asked if she was awake, she murmured something unintelligible, too exhausted and too close to sleep to be coherent.

"Sleep well, Q," Rachel said softly.

"You, too," Quinn mumbled. "Thanks, love." The words were barely past her lips before she succumbed to her exhaustion, falling asleep slumped against the bathtub at 6:30 on a Saturday morning.

She woke to Devon shaking her shoulder, an amused look in her eyes. "Come on, munchkin," Devon said, prodding Quinn's shoulder gently. "Wakey wakey."

"Don't call me that," Quinn muttered. She cracked one eye open and let Devon pull her into an upright position, clenching her teeth when a stab of pain shot from the base of her skull all the way down her spine. "Ow," she whimpered.

"Well, that's what happens when you sleep in the bathroom," Devon said. Her mocking tone contrasted with the gentle touch of her hands as she helped Quinn stand up. The phone still in Quinn's hand beeped weakly, and Quinn squinted down at it to see the battery icon flashing indignantly at her, all of the indicator bars absent.

Quinn stared at her phone blankly for long seconds, unaware of Devon looking at her with unmasked concern, and wondered how long Rachel had talked to her until she'd fallen asleep. She unthinkingly glanced at her watch, eyebrows twitching at the realization that it was almost noon.

"Okay," Devon said brightly. "How's about we both grab some showers, and then we can go find some breakfast? I'm starving."

"Okay," Quinn echoed tiredly. She shook her head and shuffled out of the bathroom to find her bag, pushing her hair back gingerly. The bathroom door shut behind her, and she heard the water start as she dragged her bag up onto the bed and dug through it in search for her phone charger.

Her own too-short shower did little to work out the kinks in her back and neck, but Quinn regardless felt considerably better as she followed Devon down to the hotel restaurant. She was quiet as Devon convinced the waiter that it was in his best interest to let them order breakfast food even though it was late, and simply fiddled with the straw in her water.

"So," Devon said slowly after the waiter had stalked off with two orders for eggs and bacon in his hand. She propped her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hand and staring at Quinn appraisingly. It felt uncannily similar to how everyone at school had looked at Quinn when she returned from the hospital, and she felt herself flushing under the scrutiny.

"What?" she said snarkily.

"Well," Devon said. "We've got lots to talk about, little sister."

"We do?"

"Duh," Devon said, but her tone was gentle. "I know you're not talking to Mom about it, and knowing you there's no way you're talking to a counselor about it."

"About what?" Quinn wondered if she could really manage to play dumb, but doubted it; Devon knew her far too well for it to work.

"About the miscarriage," Devon said softly. The straw that Quinn was fidgeting with slipped from her fingers, dropping silently to the cheap white tablecloth, and the hand that hadn't been playing with it clenched into a fist.

"I'm fine," Quinn said. "I'm dealing with it."

"No, you're not," Devon said. "You're very determined not to deal with it."

"That's crap," Quinn muttered. "Just because I'm not talking to Mom or you or a counselor doesn't mean I'm not dealing with it."

"Well, what are you doing to deal with it, then?" Devon stared at her, and Quinn fought the urge to wither under the piercing stare of brown eyes so painfully similar to their father's.

"I work through things on my own," Quinn said stubbornly. "I always have."

"Quinn, I get the whole pride and stubbornness thing. Really, I do. But that doesn't mean that it's the best way to handle things, or that it's going to work at all in this case. You shouldn't be working through this alone."

"And, what, I should be working through it with you and Mom and Dad?" Quinn felt anger rising, the edges of agitation shoving away her exhaustion and the lingering pain in her neck. "They threw me out, Devon! I had nowhere to go, and they put me out on the street all because I was sixteen and I made a mistake."

"I know," Devon said. "I know they screwed up, so badly. They shouldn't have done that."

"No kidding," Quinn muttered. She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes flashing as she sat up straighter in her seat. "Look, I get that you're here because Mom's feeling guilty and you guys want to help fix me. But I am dealing with this the same way I dealt with being pregnant. Without them."

"I know you're angry," Devon said delicately. "But, Quinn, please. You don't need to do this alone."

"What makes you think I'm doing it alone?" Quinn snapped. "I have friends, you know. Santana and Brittany have been my best friends since we were in the second grade. I have Finn and Mercedes and Tina and Artie. I have Rachel and her dads. Just because my blood relatives threw me out like trash doesn't mean I don't have a family to help me through this."

Devon looked at a loss for words, sitting back with her lips pursed as the waiter brought their food out and refilled their coffee mugs. Quinn determinedly ignored her sister's expression and picked at her scrambled eggs listlessly. They ate slowly and silently, Quinn not moving her gaze from her food and Devon shooting sad looks Quinn's way every few minutes.

Back in the room, Quinn made a beeline for her phone, which she had left on the charger while they went to eat. There was a text from Finn about a rain check for the runs she'd miss, one from Tina making a smartass comment about Mr. Scheu's lame choreographic abilities, and one from Santana's phone that was bubbly and cheerful enough in wishing her a happy weekend that it probably came from Brittany.

Devon sat on the edge of her bed, hands in her lap, and looked at Quinn solemnly. "Can I ask you something?" she asked delicately.

"I'm sure you can," Quinn muttered.

Devon sighed. "I may be totally off base here, and I'm sure you'll feel free to yell at me if I am," she started. "But I just have this feeling."

"Uh huh," Quinn said distractedly as she typed out a text message to Finn promising to make up for missing their runs.

Devon rolled her eyes and stood up, crossing to where Quinn stood and snatching the phone out of her hand.

"Hey!" Quinn grabbed for the phone, but Devon had a good three inches on her and simply held the phone up over her head. "What are you, twelve years old?"

"If I am, then that makes you four, you know," Devon snarked. She dodged one of Quinn's attempts to grab the phone. "Seriously, Q, you look like a moron. You'll get your stupid phone back in a minute."

Quinn glared at her darkly, but halted her attempts and crossed her arms. "Okay, what?"

Devon took a deep breath. "What's going on with you and Rachel?"

"What?"

"I'm not blind," Devon said carefully. "And I'm not deaf, either, and I always was a light sleeper. You think I didn't hear you get up this morning, or hear you talking to her?"

Quinn flushed deeply, fighting to keep her chin from dropping ashamedly. That she had come to terms with the fact that there would be plenty of people who would disapprove of the nature of her relationship with Rachel hardly meant that she was at all keen about talking to her older sister about it, especially as her sister had been reared in the same household as Quinn.

"Look, Quinn," Devon said. Her shoulders slumped tiredly, and she suddenly looked impossibly older. "If you're, I don't know, with her or whatever, it's cool with me. I know you probably think I'd react to it just like Mom and Dad reacted to you being pregnant, but I'm not like that. I don't think that God is going to hate anyone for who they care about, and it would be stupid for anyone to assume that they know what He would think of it anyways." She handed Quinn's phone back to the younger blonde, who was staring at her, dumbstruck.

"I just want to know, okay?" Devon said quietly. "I hate that you kept me in the dark about being pregnant and Mom and Dad kicking you out. You have to know that I would've taken care of you, but you didn't tell me. I hate that I couldn't help you then, so I want to make sure you know that if you need me, I'm here now."

She sat down heavily on the bed, staring at Quinn blankly. Quinn, feeling utterly poleaxed at Devon's proclamation, sat gingerly down next to her.

"I thought… I mean, I guess I thought that…" She could hardly organize her thoughts enough for them to make sense to her, much less form a coherent sentence.

"I know," Devon said. She reached over and grasped Quinn's hand gently. "And I know why you'd think that. I mean, I was you in high school, we both know that. Celibacy Club, Chastity Ball, Christ Crusaders, the whole shebang. But… I don't know. I guess it took me a little longer than you to figure out that everyone else's relationship to God is personal, just like mine, and it's not mine to judge." She smiled crookedly and bumped her shoulder against Quinn's.

"Also, Paul?" she added, naming her husband's youngest brother. "Is like the gayest gay boy since the existence of gay. Honestly, that boy is the biggest cliché I've ever met."

Quinn snorted, the tension that had taken up residence in her body since they sat down at the restaurant washing away, and she leaned against Devon's shoulder. "Thank you," she mumbled.

Devon wrapped an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her gently. "Of course," she said. "You're my baby sister. It's my job."

Quinn burrowed deeper into Devon's side, her heart thumping painfully at the realization that she had just admitted to her sister that she was in a relationship with Rachel, and that she hadn't been disowned.

"So," Devon said eventually. "What is going on with you and Rachel?"

Quinn blushed, biting her lip and absolutely at a loss as to what to say. "I… I don't know how to describe it," she said slowly. "I guess we're dating?"

"Dating," Devon scoffed. "Quinn, she told you to behave. And you listened! You don't listen to anybody."

"That's not true," Quinn said stubbornly.

"When you were eight, Mom told you not to use the tire swing until Dad fixed the rope, and you broke your arm because the rope broke when you were fifteen feet in the air."

"I was a kid!"

"Yes, but it's a precedent," Devon said. She smirked triumphantly. "Seriously, though. I may totally off base, but there's more to it than just dating, I think."

"I guess," Quinn said slowly. She and Rachel had never succinctly defined their relationship, explaining it only to their friends as them being together and that was that. Only a handful of people—Finn and Puck and Brittany and Santana—knew exactly how or why they were together, but terms like "girlfriend" or "relationship" had never been broached.

Quinn depended on Rachel far more than she knew she should or wanted to, the smaller girl like a life raft whenever Quinn felt like she was losing control. Yet even on her good days, when there were no nightmares or panic attacks or moments of self-loathing, she found her highlights in the moments where she shared counter space with Rachel in the kitchen while they cooked dinner, or listening to Rachel practice for and record her nightly Myspace performance, or when they met up in the rehearsal room during third period to do anything from study to make out to nap. Rachel was the only one who could silence the myriad of painful thoughts that sometimes threatened to overwhelm Quinn, but Quinn felt far more invested in the entirety of their relationship than in just Rachel's ability to hold her together.

"I don't know how to define it," she said finally. "We're together. It started because she was the only thing that could keep me from falling apart sometimes, but… I don't know. It means more than that now, I think."

"How long?" Devon regarded her with level eyes, head cocked to the side barely.

Quinn shrugged. "Four or five weeks now, I guess."

Devon nodded absently, fiddling with her wedding ring. "And she helps you? With—with everything that's happened?"

"Yeah," Quinn whispered. "She does."

"Well, okay, then," Devon said. She flashed a wide smile at Quinn before standing up and stretching. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I'm dying to go get some shopping done. What do you say?"

"Sure," Quinn said demurely, a shy smile gracing her lips. Perhaps this weekend wouldn't be so bad after all.

At four AM the next morning, when she once again found herself curled up in the bathroom—she'd remembered to drag a pillow in with her, at least—listening to Rachel sing softly to her until she drifted off to sleep once more, Quinn still found herself wishing to be home already, despite a pleasant afternoon of shopping and a spa treatment with Devon. And when they made it back to Lima and the Berry house, she sighed happily when she dropped down onto her bed with her overnight bag and Rachel appeared suddenly beside her, kissing her heavily before dragging Quinn back downstairs to where Rachel's parents had prepared a dinner for all five of them.

Author's Note: Guys, pre-AN, this chapter was exactly 6,000 words. Exactly. How baller is that?

(Extremely, would be the answer.)