11.

"I don't think I've ever been that scared before."

"Yeah, I could tell from all the shrieking. Surprised you didn't raise the dead."

"Well, it didn't wake Quinn, so it really couldn't have been all that loud."

"My ears are still ringing. I need a drink."

The hushed murmurings of her friends caused Quinn to stir, but everything was still muddled and foggy. She couldn't make out very much, just that something soothingly cool kept being applied to her forehead and she was laying down on a soft surface. She heard footsteps leaving the room, and she slowly forced her eyes open.

She was in her room, laying on her bed and Rachel was sitting on the mattress beside her, running a cool cloth over her face. Her head hurt like hell, but Rachel's soft strokes with the cold, damp compress relieved some of the pain. A part of Quinn didn't want to alert Rachel to the fact that she was awake, but the bigger part of her didn't want to worry her best friend for any longer than necessary.

Rachel suddenly looked into Quinn's face to see her hazel eyes were open and she smiled softly. "Hi," she spoke in a quiet voice. The brunette's free hand reached out to tuck some of Quinn's hair behind her ear. "How are you feeling?"

Quinn shuffled to sit up, her head still feeling a little dizzy, but Rachel was there to help her. "I'm, um, well, I've had worse days," she admitted.

"You scared all of us. Your mom has been so worried, Quinn," Rachel informed her. "She's on the phone with my dad right now, but she'll probably be giving you the third-degree as soon as she comes back."

"Great," the blonde groaned. "Because this day couldn't possibly get any worse." Rachel looked down, like she did when she felt awkward about something and Quinn felt the sinking sensation in her stomach. "How much have you figured out?" Quinn asked hoarsely, scared to hear Rachel's answer.

Rachel looked up shyly, but didn't placed her hand in Quinn's grasp. "We shouldn't talk about this now. You still have a concussion and–"

"I'm lucid," Quinn broke in. "Rachel, how much?" she asked sternly.

Rachel hesitated and bit her lip. "First of all, you should know that it wasn't Santana's fault. She was only trying to defend you and she didn't know any more than what you did at the time," she began.

Quinn groaned and looked up at her ceiling, refusing to meet Rachel's stare. "You know what Finn had on me then. The reason why I thought that you didn't want to have anything to do with me."

"Yes, and, for what it's worth, Quinn, his account of my reaction is by and far completely fabricated. I had no idea about any of it until Santana and I realized that you and I were being played against one another. Once this discovery had been made, we immediately went to find you," Rachel explained.

"And you found me with the Skanks," Quinn surmised. "And how much of that did you see?"

Rachel flinched. "Santana and I were coming across the parking lot when we saw them shoving you between them," she went on. "Santana yelled, but we were still too far away . . . That despicable girl 'The Mack' . . . she . . . climbed on top of you." Rachel paused, swallowing hard, and when she continued speaking, Quinn could hear the tears in her voice, "The way she . . . touched you, the way she . . . grabbed you . . ." Rachel hesitantly put her hand lightly on Quinn thigh, "I started running and Santana followed me. The Mack taunted you, and you told her to leave me out of it . . ."

Quinn gritted her teeth and turned her head away from Rachel. Shame burned in the blush on her cheeks and in the tears that streamed down her face. She tried to breathe in without sobbing but a dry choke erupted from her throat.

Rachel stood, and for a moment, Quinn thought that the brunette was about to walk out her bedroom door and never come back, but then Rachel closed the door. She turned and walked back to Quinn's bed, sitting closer to the blonde than ever at that point. She lifted Quinn's calves and sat down, pulling Quinn's legs across her lap and rubbing them soothingly.

"What happened this summer, Quinn? You dropped out of contact with everyone and then you came back at the beginning of the year with pink hair and a Ryan Seacrest tattoo and your eyes were more desperate and helpless than I'd ever seen them and you were running around with those horrid girls," Rachel remembered. "Then that vulgar Mackenzie girl makes a remark about you and her . . ." Rachel couldn't even seem to finish. "Just tell me, Quinn. I'll never judge you, but tell me, is there any truth to what she said?"

Quinn couldn't answer. Her throat closed up and her chest constricted and her eyes filled with tears. She had made a stupid mistake, and been foolish enough to think that she could leave it behind her and write it off as part of her rebellious stage. She had never counted on Rachel finding out, much less in the way that she had. She couldn't answer Rachel, so she cried. She cried and cried, and tried to pull physically away from her best friend, but Rachel had her legs in a death grip and wasn't allowing Quinn to escape.

"Quinn, it's okay. It's okay," Rachel shushed her.

"No, it's not!" Quinn screamed, feeling cornered and trapped with no way out. "Rachel, let me go! Let go of me!" She fought to free her legs, but the harder she kicked, the harder Rachel held on.

"No! Quinn, stop! Stop, okay? It's okay!" Rachel tried to tell her, but Quinn was a lot stronger than she looked and Rachel was growing tired of fighting her. "Dammit, Quinn! Just talk to me! That's all I want, alright?!"

As Quinn continued to struggle relentlessly, Rachel thought of only one thing, short of slapping the blonde, that might halt Quinn's actions. In the blink of an eye, Rachel had pounced on Quinn, grabbing the blonde's wrists and pinning them above her head as she found herself practically nose-to-nose on top of her best friend. Without a second's hesitation, Rachel's actions received their desired effect and Quinn went rigid and motionless under Rachel's body. Shocked golden eyes bore into brown for a moment.

"Rachel," Quinn said, her voice tense and barely above a breath, "what are you doing?"

"Successfully catching you off-guard evidently," Rachel returned with a smirk. "If I had known that this was all it took to get you to stop fighting me, I would have tried it years ago."

"Rachel–"

"Just talk to me, Quinn," Rachel pleaded. "I just want you to talk to me about this, because it's obviously upsetting you and I hate seeing the person I love upset, Quinn. 'Seeing you smile is so much better than watching you cry', remember? That goes both ways. So just tell me . . . what happened this summer?"

Tears leaked from Quinn's eyes as she shook her head. "I can't," she cried, her voice breaking. "Rachel, I can't talk to you about this."

"You can talk to me about anything, Quinn," Rachel told her. She took a deep breath, looking down into Quinn's eyes and suddenly wishing that this position she had over Quinn was being spent doing something more enjoyable. "Look, I'll start with what I've gathered, okay? All you have to do is fill in the blanks for me."

Quinn shook her head. "No," she sobbed, "no no, no."

Rachel took a deep breath, rubbing her thumbs over the Quinn's inner wrists soothingly as she began. "You started questioning yourself, the way that you feel, who you really were. You thought you couldn't go to anyone who knew you, anyone who cared about you . . . because their opinions mattered to you, and you didn't want to hear their judgments." As Quinn's body-wracking sobs subsided, Rachel cautiously removed her hands from Quinn's wrists to the blonde's cheeks. "You didn't want to let people hurt you anymore. So you found a group of people who didn't care who you were or what you did, and you experimented because you thought . . . because you were curious? Which is normal, by the way. As your friend, I think it's my job to tell you that sexual curiosity isn't out of the ordinary," Rachel said matter-of-factly.

"It wasn't that I was curious, it was what I was curious about," Quinn said, her voice coming out in little puffs as she tried to calm herself down.

"Sexual identity, and again, that's perfectly normal," Rachel said. She looked at Quinn, "But you knew about Santana and Brittany, so you knew that. No, it wasn't even what you were curious about, Quinn. It was whom." Rachel's body relaxed from its restraining posture, and she leaned forward until her forehead was resting on against Quinn's. "It was . . . it was me, right? You knew that if you told anyone in glee club about this, sooner or later it all of us would know, and you didn't want it getting around to me, even though everyone knows that I'm always the last person to find out anything."

Rachel smiled. "And, again as your friend, I think I should tell you that I would have been . . . elated to be the one you felt curious for. I still am." Rachel bit her lip and checked over her shoulder for Santana or Judy, before leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to Quinn's cheek. "Quinn, you should never feel like you have to hide things from me. If you had been up front with me about all of this from the beginning, I could have saved you the concussion and just told you that I feel the same. Now, if I get off of you, can we still have a sensible discussion about this?"

Quinn shook her head. "No, I don't think we can," she whispered.

Rachel frowned, her brow furrowing in consternation. "Why not?"

"Because I'll still be too focused on doing this," she answered, and, in the next moment, Quinn had brought her hands to Rachel's head and guided their mouths together in a kiss.

Neither of them were sure who moaned the first moment their lips touched, maybe it had been both of them, but it didn't matter. Rachel's hands slid into Quinn's hair and Quinn grabbed Rachel's waist and pulled her even closer. Quinn knew she should have gone slow, been gentle and practical with Rachel, because she was kissing her best friend who had just gotten out of a long-term relationship, and this was all new for both of them. But there had been years, that felt more like lifetimes, of build up between them, and, as Quinn ran her tongue along Rachel's bottom lip seeking entrance into the hot, passionate, mysterious recesses of that perfect Berry mouth, she thought to herself (with what little coherent thought she had left) that life was entirely too short and that a lifetime of kissing Rachel Berry would never fully satisfy her. She needed Rachel like she needed to breathe and if she died right now from lack of oxygen, well, at least she would die breathing Rachel in.

"Just . . . wanky," came a voice from the door.

Rachel to sprang away from Quinn like she'd been burnt, causing her to tumble off of Quinn's bed and onto the floor. She didn't bother flipping over from where she had face-planted on Quinn's floor, sure that perhaps if she laid face-down long enough then God would eventually take mercy on her and open up the earth to swallow her whole. She could hear Santana's laugh and willed herself to just burst into fiery, Quinn-induced flames at that moment.

"SANTANA!" Quinn shrieked indignantly. "Knock much?"

Through her bouts of uncontrollable laughter, Santana managed to say, "Not really," and then, "Just imagine if I'd been your mom, Q? Do you think Berry would have swan-dived out your window?"

"Yes, I would have," Rachel muttered, her voice muffled to the others because of the floor.

"Quinn? Santana? Rachel, sweetheart? What are you doing on the floor, dear?" Judy asked as she came into the room.

Rachel pushed herself up off the floor immediately. "I should go!" she exclaimed, her voice almost a yell. Her face was beet red as she shuffled toward the door. "I should . . . yeah."

Quinn launched herself off of her mattress. "Wait! Rachel, don't . . . whoa." Quinn's words were lost as a bout of dizziness hit her and she swayed dangerously.

"Quinn!" Judy and Rachel yelled at the same time, both rushing forward.

"Easy there, Q," Santana warned her, catching her friend's elbow and pulling her back into a sitting position. "Concussion, remember?"

"Yeah, Santana. I got that, thanks," Quinn snapped sarcastically as she held her head in her hand.

"Santana's right, Quinn," Rachel added, taking a seat next to Quinn and skimming her fingers through the length of Quinn's silky blonde hair several times. "You need to be careful."

Quinn pouted in what Rachel secretly thought was a perfectly adorable way. "Being careful sucks," the blonde complained petulantly.

Rachel laughed, still running her fingers through Quinn hair, while holding her best friend's other hand. "Quinn, you've been hurt twice in less than a week trying to defend my honor. Maybe next time, you'll think about just letting Santana cut them down with her vicious words?"

Quinn frowned. "But you're my friend," she whined "If anyone should be standing up for you, it should be . . ." She caught sight of Rachel's disproving glare and her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Yeah. Okay."

"Yeah, Quinn," Santana chose to pipe in, "leave the chivalry to the people who can pull it off without hurting themselves."

Before Quinn and Santana could break out into a full-out argument, Judy decided it was best if she stepped in. "Girls," she said in warning. "Santana, perhaps it's best if we don't antagonize Quinn for the moment, hmm? And both of you, Rachel is, apparently, perfectly capable of defending herself, if her actions to today are anything to go by. Now Quinn? Listen to 'your Rachel', sweetheart," Judy finished, sending her daughter a knowing wink before she gracefully swept out of the room.

All three of the girls looked after her with stunned expressions on their respective faces.

"Um, did that actually . . . ?" Quinn began, unsure of how to phrase that particular question.

"Just happen?" Rachel finished bewilderedly.

Santana grinned in her wicked, wicked she-devil way. "That totally just happened," she exclaimed. The Latina looked to her friends, "This is better than Spanish soap operas."

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