Author's note: HERE IT IS FOLKS. :D

...

Calm down.

Just breath.

Walking in the door of the restaurant is not going to cause your immediate death.

Quinn wasn't quite as able to convince herself of that last thing as she wanted to.

Her hair was pulled back into a neat but not Cheerio-style ponytail, with the loose hair in curls touching her back. It was cool outside so she'd worn a dark blue cardigan over her top, with light blue jeans that hung low on her waist as she stood outside Breadsticks waiting for Rachel.

Peering around the corner, Quinn couldn't see Rachel anywhere in sight. The only people in the actual restaurant were an old couple off in the corner. Why had she let Rachel pick the time again? Five o'clock was NOT a sufficient date time.

Unless you were those two young'ins stopping by for an early bird supper.

Lord.

"Quinn!"

Quinn spun around so fast she managed to hit herself in the face with her ponytail.

"Hi – plllp – er…hi, Rachel," Quinn finally managed to get out, a blush rising in her cheeks. "You're here."

"You seem surprised," Rachel noted, standing primly before Quinn, her arms folded in front of her chest. She was wearing a blue argyle sweater with a matching light blue skirt. Quinn fleetingly realized they matched.

"Well…I thought you might decide to stand me up," Quinn shrugged with attempted nonchalance that both girls knew she was faking.

"That wouldn't be proper, Quinn. Inviting someone to dinner and then not showing up for the da—not that this is a date, or anything. No. Just two people meeting for dinner," Rachel was becoming flustered herself. Damn that girl and her perfect blond hair and perfectly smooth face and perfect everything else…

"Rachel," Quinn's firm tone snapped Rachel out of her continued ramble which had turned into something about how the bird on the sign next to the restaurant had no right to sit there and stare at them so intensely…even though Quinn had to admit, it was creeping her out. Regardless, Quinn was losing more and more of her self-confidence and composure by the second, and two panicking girls trying to order food was not what anyone needed right now. "Are you ready to go in?"

"What? Oh, yes. Let's go in. Come on, Quinn," Rachel sniffed and then lead the way inside, with Quinn rolling her eyes behind her with what could only be considered fondness behind them.

...

Quinn was already nervous, but Rachel's choice of seating didn't help matters at all.

Now that she was inside, at a table by the window where people could actually see her with Rachel, Quinn was starting to panic. Hardcore panic.

"Quinn, you're sweating," Rachel had a slight frown of concern on her face as Quinn nervously set her fork down to clutch her napkin in her lap to keep her hands from shaking.

"What? Me? No. I'm just…perspiring," Quinn hastened to wipe at her forehead before setting her slightly shaking hand back in her lap.

"…That means the same thing," Rachel was squinting at her now. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yes, Rachel, I'm fine," Quinn emphasized the last word a little bit more harshly than she'd intended and mentally slapped herself. God damn it. You weren't going to do this tonight, Fabray.

And now she slapped herself again for cursing god.

She looked up hesitantly to gauge Rachel's reaction, expecting to find hurt etched on her face. Quinn even began to open her mouth to uncharacteristically apologize, but was instead shocked to find a glimmer of a look of…was that validation?...on Rachel's face.

"What?" she snapped, picking her fork back up and stabbing into her lettuce. That look of confidence on Rachel face had freaked her out. Why? She didn't know.

You're such a liar, Quinn, you know exactly why.

Why?

Because it scares you to let someone else have any kind of power over you. Even the person you wanted more than anything else you'd never had in your entire life.

But now? Now she was flustered and pissed.

And unfortunately for Rachel, those two emotions together equaled bitch-Quinn mode. In overdrive.

"I knew it," Rachel shot back, dropping her fork with a clang. Quinn almost missed her mouth with her fork but managed to keep it in check, setting it back down again.

"Knew what, Berry?" she smirked, folding her hands on the table.

"That this would happen," Rachel responded, waving to the waiter who was a few tables away. He nodded at her and she turned back to Quinn. "That as soon as you got over whatever this…thing was, you'd go right back to being the Head Bitch."

Quinn started at hearing Rachel swear – she didn't think she'd ever heard her utter a bad word, ever, let alone in relation to her – but resumed her signature smirk almost immediately.

"And you're naturally the expert on everything, aren't you?" she hissed, leaning forward, hating herself but loving the fear that passed across Rachel's face too quickly to truly see. "Smart, gold star Rachel…no one could know more than her."

"That's not what I said, Quinn," Rachel was glaring now. "I'm just saying that I expected this, and I was right. I didn't get my hopes up and now I'm glad I didn't because I was right."

"About what, dwarf," Quinn growled quietly.

"About the fact that the second we went somewhere in public, where people could see that you didn't openly hate me twenty-four seven, that you would panic. You'd hide how you really felt, like you always have, and go back to trying to destroy me," Rachel handed over some cash to the waiter before snapping, "keep the change" and going to stand but Quinn grabbed her arm and forcefully yanked her back into her seat.

"You're so full of yourself," Quinn burst out as soon as Rachel had regained contact with the chair. "Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think this is simple and un-confusing and effortless? Because it's not. I haven't been happier in the last eight years than I have been for the past twenty four hours because all I could think about was you and how something had finally, finally gone right for me with you."

"QUINN. Something's finally gone right for you? Are you blind? Everything goes right for you, and it always has! Even when we stopped being friends, all you had to do was turn around and there were more. Me, on the other hand? I was left alone to sit in my room and cry every night because I lost the one person I thought was my other half," Rachel cried. She was in tears now. The old couple in the corner was staring, but Quinn was pretty sure they were too deaf to hear what was going on. She herself was too caught up in the feeling of her heart breaking to care anyway. She couldn't take that anymore.

"Rachel, Rachel stop!" Quinn suddenly shouted and stood up with a crash as her chair hit the floor.

Everything inside her was telling her to run. She was starting to get the familiar urge to flee that she always did when she felt like she was losing control. Yell an angry, spiteful comment and get out before it hurt too much…or someone hurt you.

But it always hurt just as much later.

"I. Love you." Quinn gritted out through clenched teeth and tears that were building up behind her eyes. She stepped closer to the silently sobbing brunette and took her shoulders in her hands. "I have always, and will always love you. But it's not black and white. We don't just get what we want."

Rachel lifted her head and red eyes met ones filled with unshed tears.

"But it is, Quinn," she said softly. Almost like she didn't hate her. "It is black and white, if you really did love me."

And with that she pulled away, picked up her purse, and left Quinn crying at the table. Quinn didn't leave until the manager came out to ask her what was wrong because customers were starting to ask about the girl in the corner sobbing into a bowl of salad.

And who was there to pounce on her the second she walked out the door? Only one Santana Lopez.

Boy, would Sue Sylvester be proud of her for this.

...