Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this out (don't hate me). :c

Previously:

Quinn shook her head. "People put you down enough, you start to believe it."

"I think you are a beautiful woman, prettiest I've seen. But you're also much more than that, Quinn."

The blonde sighed, tucking her further body into the contours of Rachel's. She closed her eyes, ready to drift off. "Yeah, well, the bad stuff is easier to believe."

"Tell him I'll call him on Monday," Rachel said, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She glanced at the papers scattered across the table one more time and sighed.

"Yes, ma'am."

They were facing last minute paperwork of her Hollywood venture. Well, it wasn't so much last minute as put off, procrastinated, but it was pile after pile regardless. Rachel had expected more time. Time that wouldn't be filled with a sexy and intriguing blonde.

She hadn't anticipated the Schuster situation, either. The battle to assist a resolute, stubborn father and his loyal son while staying on their good side was near impossible. And there was the polo match, where David had grown all good and cozy with Quinn—who knew what was going on there, she'd always thought the kid was as straight as a circle. But what exactly could she say? What was she allowed to say?

She reached out, picking up the card key and slapped it lightly against her palm in a decisive beat. With a final nod at the paperwork, which was halfway done, she stepped out of the conference room. The door shut with a small click behind her, and she made her way to the elevator.

Rachel shifted her weight impatiently as the elevator slowly creaked down to her level. She debated taking the stairs to get there faster.

"Where you going?" A familiar voice called out from behind her, and she cringed. "Rachel, you can't disappear now. We're in this too deep."

Rachel exhaled, screwing her eyes shut. "Don't panic, Finn. Mr. Schue isn't going anywhere. I'll be back here in the morning." She paused, eyebrows furrowing, and turned to the intern that had followed Finn. "Did you send the tickets to the hotel?"

"Um, yes."

The brunette nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course." The intern looked up at Finn to see if he needed anything. When neither spoke, he scuttled across the lobby, making an escape before his shift turned into overtime, yet again.

As the elevator pinged, Finn moved in front of the doors, effectively blocking her."Where are you going?"

Rachel huffed. "I have a date."

"With the hooker?"

"Be careful, Finn," she warned, clenching her jaw.

He held her stare for a moment longer. Then, recognizing that his boss always had the final say, whether or not he knew best, he stepped aside, dropping his head in frustration when she brushed past him.

"Have a good night," he muttered darkly, storming off.

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose, not in the mood to reprimand him. She considered cancelling the reservation and just staying in, ordering room service for another night.

But when she walked into the bedroom, immediately faced with a gorgeous blonde in a slimming red gown, she knew they were going out. Her lips were a matching shade of bright crimson, and Rachel had a hard time looking away.

"Do I look okay?" the blonde asked, catching her gaze in the mirror. She ran her hands down her sides, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in the fabric.

Rachel bit her lip to stop a smile and moved closer, tilting her head to the side. "Mmm."

Quinn turned to face her, hand falling in place on her hip as she raised an eyebrow. "Mmm?"

"Something's missing," the brunette said, taking another small step forward.

"Well, nothing else is going fit into this dress," Quinn said, chuckling. "I can tell you that much."

Rachel smiled softly, eyes dropping to the floor as she brought her hands in front of her, holding a black felt box. "Well, maybe something in this." She glanced up. Quinn's brow creased, her gaze flicking between Rachel and the case. "I don't want you to get too excited. This is only on loan."

Hesitantly, she opened the clasp and revealed a diamond necklace, that glittered in a thousand places, reflecting light. Set in the middle of each circle of diamonds was a ruby. The necklace was practically glowing on its own. Quinn laughed quietly, eyes widening. She reached out, pausing to meet Rachel's gaze, before touching the jewels.

Rachel quickly shut the top on the blonde's fingers, causing Quinn to jump and squeak. She smirked as Quinn smacked her arm, and they both laughed.

The brunette shook her head, grinning, and took the necklace out of the box. She gestured for Quinn to turn, so she could attach the clasp. The blonde obliged, fingering the necklace in awe. It was heavy, hanging around her neck. She swallowed, and felt it against her throat. "They really let you borrow this from the jewelry store?"

Rachel nodded, wrapping her arms around Quinn's waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. "I'm a very good customer."

"If you were going buy this, how much would it cost?" Quinn asked, resting her arms on the brunette's.

"Quarter of a million," Rachel replied.

Quinn blinked, laughing nervously. "A quarter of a million dollars?" The brunette nodded, missing the anxious look, and withdrew her arms from the blonde to get ready for dinner. She rifled through the closet, pulling out a long black dress with a red tie around the waist.

"So, where are we going?" the blonde asked, sitting down on the bed. Her eyes raked down the brunette's form, reveling in her nimble movements.

"It's a surprise." Rachel pulled on the shoulder straps, struggling with the back zipper.

"Here, let me," Quinn said. She took the zipper between her fingers, and dragged it up slowly, drawing in the warmth of the brunette's skin. She felt a shudder shoot through Rachel's spine, and smirked. When the dress was on, she pressed into Rachel, nuzzling into her neck. The brunette closed her eyes, trying to ignore the moan building within her from the combination of the heat on her back and the cool breath below her ear.

"If I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight," Quinn murmured. "Thank you."

Rachel managed to nod, not trusting herself to speak.

Why did they have to go out, again?

Then, the blonde let her go, moving into the bathroom. Rachel exhaled, rolling her shoulders. "Berry, get a hold of yourself," she muttered.

But, she knew. No one else had helped her lose control quite like this before. It was thrilling, it was invigorating. It was Quinn.

And she was falling.

Hard.

"When you're not fidgeting, you look very beautiful," Rachel said, eyes shining, "and very tall."

Quinn chuckled, taking Rachel's offered arm and stepping out of the limousine. The sky was a hue of orange and yellow, the sun falling just below the horizon. She squinted against the light, recognizing the flat, large plane of concrete as an airport. They had pulled up in front of a small plane.

She looked around, but could see no other passengers.

Correction. They were taking a private jet.

A man in uniform stepped out of the hatch. "Well, it should be a pretty smooth flight, Ms. Berry. The weather is clear all the way up to San Francisco. We should be there in about fifty minutes."

Quinn frowned. "We're going to be late."

"No, it's all right," Rachel said, leading her into the airplane. "Opening night never starts on time."

"Okay," Quinn said, sitting by the window. As the plane moved into position on the runway, she bit her lip and turned to Rachel. "I've, uhm, never flown before."

Rachel smiled, and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "You'll love it. The view is much better than my balcony."

Quinn's eyes widened as the plane picked up speed, tilting its nose into the air. Her grip tightened on the brunette's hand. Rachel winced, and leaned over to whisper in the blonde's ear.

"Hey, Q, it's going to be okay," she assured her. "The angle is a good sign. It means we're going up, and we won't run into the chain-link fence and crash into a nearby building and die in explosion or be burned alive."

A corner of the blonde's mouth quirked up, amused. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Rachel said, nodding. "Your ears will probably pop soon, okay? We'll just chew some gum, and it'll help."

"That's the most absurd thing I've heard," Quinn said, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Rachel chuckled. "Just trust me."

The blonde let out a sigh, closing her eyes.

Trust, right. She could do that, couldn't she?

"Program, miss."

"Thank you," Rachel said, taking the paper.

The employee nodded, and motioned for the two to follow him. "Right this way, Ms. Berry." He took them up a winding marble staircase and down a long hallway. They passed curtained off seats on the way, and when they reached the end, he pulled back the drape to display balcony seats, overlooking the entire amphitheatre.

Rachel took Quinn's hand and led her into the alcove.

"Rachel? Is that you, hon?" A woman asked, peeping over from the next seating area. The brunette smiled, letting go of Quinn to greet the old family friend.

"Doris, how nice to see you," Rachel replied warmly. "How are you?"

The older woman nodded, saying she was well. After an offer to catch up over coffee was accepted, the brunette sat down, and glanced over to find Quinn hanging over the ledge in awe. She leaned further forward, and Rachel fidgeted, resisting the urge to drag her away and sit her down, away from danger. "Hey, come here. You gotta see at this."

"It's all right." The brunette bit her lip, humming. "I've already seen it."

The blonde looked over her shoulder, catching Rachel's small, concerned smile. She rolled her eyes, plopping down beside the brunette. "If you're afraid of heights, why do you get seats up here?"

Rachel shrugged. "Because they're the best."

"Is there anything else, miss?" the staff member piped up from behind them.

"No, thank you."

"The glasses are there. Enjoy the opera."

Rachel nodded her thanks and turned to find Quinn picking up the gold glasses, flipping them around.

"Oh!" The blonde said, sitting up straighter. "So, you said this is in Italian."

"Uh-huh," Rachel affirmed, watching as the blonde attempted to set the glasses in place.

"So how am I going to know what they're singing?" she asked, frowning. The spectacles collapsed on itself once again, and she huffed. "These are broken. Mine are broken."

"No, no," Rachel said, taking it from her hand. She flicked it in her wrist, letting it go over the arc and rest in place, securely held up. "There."

The blonde blushed, taking the glasses back. "Oh."

"You'll know," Rachel added. "Believe me, you'll understand. The music's very powerful."

Quinn squinted through the spectacles at the stage. "There's a band!"

Rachel chuckled, nodding. There was a flicker of the lights, and then they dimmed. The chatter below them hushed, and the brunette leaned closer to Quinn, letting their arms brush. "People's reactions to opera the first time they see it is very dramatic. They either love it or they hate it. If they love it, they will always love it." She paused. "If they don't, they may learn to appreciate it, but it will never become part of their soul."

Quinn forced herself to tear her gaze away from the brown eyes swirling with emotions. She had the feeling that Rachel had spoken about more than opera, but repressed the notion, unable to analyze it in the moment. She hummed in acknowledgement instead, shifting her attention to the scene unfolding in front of them. The orchestra picked up, covering her erratic heartbeat.

As she sat through the four acts, she could tell Rachel's eyes were on her more than the opera. Quinn held the glasses in her lap, fiddling with them. She was thankful for the dark theatre, knowing it would hide her nervousness from the brunette.

But what would she do, after this?

Quinn knew she should call it quits, or at least sleep on the couch instead of in her client's bed. It was causing feelings. Unacceptable feelings. Feelings that led to her being nervous under the brunette's eyes, the fluttering in her chest, and the, the compassion.

Never before had she faced compassion.

She'd faced lust, revenge, sleaziness, pity, sorrow, self-hatred, loneliness, anger, judgment, and even apathy, but never compassion.

She could practically feel the emotion radiating out from Rachel's pores. It was like her very soul was oozing out, right into Quinn's hands.

What was she expected to do? What was she supposed to do with all that gooey compassion?

Rachel cared about her, that much was evident. She wasn't sick or twisted, like some of her other clients were. This business arrangement wasn't just for kicks, it wasn't just some way for the brunette to get self-satisfaction. If it had been, she wouldn't have held onto the blonde so tightly. Why stick with one, troublesome hooker when there's a city full of them?

Quinn blinked, tears rising up. It was the final act, the character was standing alone on stage. She hadn't understood a word of the show, but she did know what had happened. She knew she didn't want to be left alone in the end like the actor, pouring her soul into high notes until she overdosed into a dumpster.

The sudden applause startled her, and she began to clap her hands, wiping at her cheeks. Rachel stood with her, trying to catch her gaze.

"Did you enjoy the opera, dear?" Doris asked, smiling at the blonde.

Quinn nodded. "Oh, it was so good, I almost peed my pants."

The old woman stammered, taken aback. "What?"

Rachel leaned forward, covering. "She said she liked it better than Pirates of Penzance."

"Oh!" The woman said, assuming she had misheard the blonde.

"Yes," Rachel said, stifling a laugh, and took Quinn's arm in hers. "Good-bye now."

The brunette leaned back in her chair, surveying the chess game in front of them. Quinn was a quick learner. If she knew any better, Rachel would suspect she'd been hustled. It was as if the complex system of rules was a simple game of checkers for the blonde, and Rachel didn't like losing.

Quinn leaned forward, biting her thumb as she squinted at the board. Her father had been a big chess player, and taught her the game. It'd been a decade or so since she'd touched a set, or even given it a second glance, and she was rusty. To her father's standards, she should have already won by now. She glanced up at Rachel after moving a queen, to find her grinning.

"What?" Quinn asked, ruffling her hair nervously.

"You're playing quite well for a beginner," Rachel commented, quirking an eyebrow.

Quinn shrugged. "Guess it comes naturally."

Rachel just shook her head, chuckling. "Why don't we finish this tomorrow? It's really late, and I have to work."

"Why don't you not go to work tomorrow," Quinn said, getting up to stretch. "Take the day off."

"Me, not work?" Rachel stared at her in confusion.

The blonde snorted. "Yeah."

"I am the boss," Rachel murmured, tilting her head.

Quinn smiled at her, moving to hug her from behind. "Come with me, Rach. I'll show you my city."

"Here are the storage reports you wanted, sir, and Ms. Berry called."

Finn held his hand out for the files, not bothering to look up. "What'd she say?"

The intern hesitated. "She said she's taking the day off."

"She's taking the day off?" Finn repeated, his head jerking upwards for confirmation.

"That's what she said," the intern affirmed, shrugging.

Finn cursed under his breath, shooing the intern. It figured, with only a few days left the bitch would leave him to do all the work, to fuck around with that damn hooker.

"I'm starving," Quinn commented, and looked around them. There were a few food carts on the street, and the park was just around the block. She pointed to one of the food stands. "There's a snap dog vendor over there. Do you have any money?"

"I have money," Rachel said, then laughed. "I don't know what a snap dog is, but I have money."

Quinn took her hand, pulling her in the direction of the cart. "Well, I'm gonna give, um—you'll buy a snap dog, and we'll cop a squat under a tree somewhere."

The brunette interlaced their fingers, and the blonde tried to ignore the flutter-feeling it caused. Rachel's nose scrunched up. "Cop a what?"

"Cop a squat," Quinn repeated, holding back a laugh when Rachel looked horrified at the suggestion. "Relax, there's a park nearby. It's nice. You'll like it."

Slightly dubious but holding her tongue, Rachel took out a few bills to pay the vendor, and Quinn accepted the snap dogs, pausing before she handed one over to the brunette. "Um, you're not a vegetarian or anything, are you?"

"I was a vegan for some time, but not anymore. Why?"

"Oh, good." Quinn said, relieved. "Cause these have a bunch of meat in them."

Rachel sniffed the food cautiously, watching the blonde munch on hers happily. She took a small bite, and was surprised when it didn't taste like grease and artificial by-products. The seasoning wasn't bland, either. It didn't quite live up to the exquisite recipes of the restaurants she frequented, but it was homey. It was comfortable.

She smiled at the blonde, giving her a thumbs up to show she approved of the food choice. Quinn grinned, skipping ahead into the grassy field to sit under a large tree. The brunette followed, taking her time, and sat down next to her, leaning back against the trunk.

When she finished with the snap dog, the blonde removed a small, leather-bound book from her bag. One arm wiggled behind Rachel's waist, coming around to hold the book in front of them. Rachel raised her eyebrow, amused.

Quinn huffed, rolling her eyes, but couldn't help smiling when Rachel leaned back into her. She flipped the pages to the first chapter, clearing her throat. "All right, read the first two pages."

If Rachel found the action strange at all, she didn't show it. "Okay," she said, and gently rested her hand on top of Quinn's arm, reading aloud. She didn't know what book it was, but fell into the story quickly enough, loving when it was Quinn's turn to read, because words had a knack of popping and rolling off her tongue and curling around her lips, with acrobatic fluidity.

The sun sank lower in the sky, and they finished the story late afternoon, as rush hour traffic picked up.

Rachel's driver had picked them up from the park, and they were on their way to the hotel for a late dinner. The brunette had managed to find a record store that sold classical music, and snatched up a few piano pieces. Quinn looked out the window, tired, as the pieces filled the car speakers.

Her streets passed them by, and it looked like a completely different world with tinted glass separating her from it, acting as a barricade. Would she be ready to go back when Rachel left?

The driver took a right turn onto a very familiar road, and Quinn sat up a little straighter, searching the block for Santana. She couldn't see the stars on the sideway from their viewpoint, and hummed in frustration when they passed the storefront that they used as their post, the Latina nowhere in sight.

It was early, she assured herself. Maybe Santana was still on her way. Or maybe she'd hooked a client already. Just because she hadn't tried to reach the blonde didn't mean that she was lying face up in a dumpster.

"Did you know that two of the Bach pieces that we heard tonight were found by Felix Mendelssohn in a butcher's shop?" Rachel asked, breaking through her thoughts. "They were wrapping meat with the sheet music."

Quinn nodded, looking down at her lap.

Rachel placed a hand over hers, which were playing with the hem of her blouse. "What's with you? You're fidgeting. What's wrong?"

The blonde cleared her throat. "Um, there's a club up here that I'd like to stop into for a second to see my roommate, if that's okay?"

"Absolutely," Rachel said, giving her hand a squeeze. "Darryl? Uhm, Darryl, can you just pull up into the back alleyway, please?"

"The Blue Banana?" He asked, and Rachel turned to Quinn for confirmation.

The blonde nodded. "The Blue Banana."

Rachel chuckled. "Very colorful life you lead."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "I just wanna run in for a minute and see if she's there, so just stay here." She stepped out of the door, stopping the brunette from following her. Rachel leaned back against the door, crossing her arms. "I'm hoping they don't spot this limousine as it is."

"I'll block it with my body," Rachel said, smirking.

Quinn shook her head, and walked into the back door.

"Hey, Q, you lookin' good, man. What'd you win, the lottery or what?" The fellow hooker looked her up and down, commenting on the new get-up.

The blonde ignored her question. "Hey, Tina, have you seen San?"

"No, not since, uh, Tuesday." Quinn nodded, making her way to the bartender. "Hey, Israel is looking for her too," Tina added.

She flexed her shoulders, trying to ease the worry seeping into them. Tapping the counter for the bartender's attention, she smiled at him when he saw her. "Hi, Pops. Have you seen Santana?"

He frowned. "I think she went to Santa Barbara."

Quinn exhaled, taking out a pen and scribbling a number onto a napkin. "Here's my number where I'm gonna be for the rest of the week. Have her call me, okay?"

"Okay, honey."

"Thanks."

He nodded, and returned to wiping glasses. Quinn wove her way through the crowd, letting out a silent prayer that Santana would call her soon. She had to be okay. She would be okay.

But when she pushed open the metal door and stepped out into the alley, she saw a gang of men jeering at the limousine, forming a half circle that worked as a trap.

And in the middle of the crowd stood a tiny brunette, still calmly leaning against the car door.

Quinn frowned, raising her voice to break through the taunts. "What's going on out here?"

The catcalls and insults stopped, the men's attention fixing on the blonde immediately. Rachel shrugged, catching her gaze. "I don't know. You left and all of a sudden I'm in the middle of West Side Story."

A/N: So there's probably only a couple chapters left… and since haelthy gave me the idea to faberry-up Pretty Woman, I'm gonna let them decide whether or not to add an epilogue.