When you get up the next morning, you take a quick shower and descend the stairs. Before you get to the kitchen you hear talking and pots and pans being moved around. You figure it it's your mom and your sister. You wonder when they turned into Stepford Wives with all the cooking. You were actually planning to take them out to breakfast.

You push open the door to the kitchen and find more people than you expected. Along with your mother and sister, Eliot and Steve are sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

"Good morning," you mom smiles at you. She walks over and gives you a one armed hug, handing you a cup of coffee with the other hand.

You mumble something that sounds vaguely like 'morning' as you scan the kitchen. Eliot smiles kindly as you, "Rachel's asleep on the couch in the study. Maybe you should wake her up so we can eat breakfast and get you two on the road on time."

You nod to him and take your coffee with you to the study. You pause at the door because you never went in here. This was your dad's place and no one was allowed into it without him being there. So you haven't been in there since you were…was it twelve…maybe eleven. You were okay to just walk past it and avert your eyes.

Rachel certainly doesn't seem to have a problem because when you tentatively step inside, she's completely passed out on the couch. She's facing the back of the couch and curled up against the pillows. You take a minute to look around the room. Your mom has changed it. The four foot tall humidor is gone as is the whiskey bar. In their places are your mom's crochet basket and a small TV. The 'manly' books your dad had have been replaced by current best sellers and the romance novels that your mom loves so much. The dark curtains that used to hang are now a light lilac color and make the room brighter.

You feel your body relax in the room. It's not your dad's anymore. Your mom has taken it over and made it her own. You're proud of your mom. She's become stronger than you've ever imagined.

Then you turn to the most important non-relative woman in your life. You sit on the edge of the couch next to her feet and rest your hand on her sweater covered side and gently rub her side with your thumb, "Wake up sleepyhead." You know she's a light sleeper so it won't take much.

Her eyes slowly open and she rolls onto her back. Your hand is now on her stomach still continuing the sweet mini massage. Her hair has fallen into her eyes and she sleepily pushes it out of her face with a smile, "Good morning."

You offer the coffee with an echo of her greeting. She pushes up on her elbows and takes a sip before handing it back to you and laying back down. You examine what she's wearing and let out a snort. You know it wasn't the most attractive thing in the world, but apparently she's run out of clean clothes from New York because she's in a sweater from her high school days, black with white bunnies on it no less. You check for her sinfully short skirt and are disappointed to find black tights covering her legs under the skirt. You ask her if she ran out of clean clothes and she giggles and nods.

"Well you look hot," you say with a small pat on her stomach before moving to stand. She grabs your hand and pulls you back down. She has a coy smile on her face as she places your hand back on her stomach. You smile back, "So why didn't you come upstairs? My bed is definitely big enough for two."

She chuckles, "Well I started to before your mom pointedly offered me the couch. I don't think she wants us making babies up in your room."

Your cheeks burn with a blush, but she just smiles at you. She sits up again and this time captures your lips is quite possibly the best good morning kiss of your life. You feel her fingers tenderly hold your cheeks as her lips lightly massage your own.

A clearing of a throat behind you causes you to go rigid and pull away. You close your eyes and pray harder than you've ever prayed that it isn't Steve. Thankfully Frannie's laugh is the one that's heard behind you, "That was hilarious. You should have seen your faces."

You open your eyes to see Rachel blushing profusely and sheepishly smiling. You turn and glare at your sister, but she just laughs harder. When she catches her breath she asks, "Are you guys ready to go?"

You look at Rachel who nods, so you stand and help her up. As you walk past your sister, out the door you see her catch Rachel's arm. Your sister's face is serious when she says, "We need to have a little talk so you're going to ride with me okay?"

Rachel's eyes grow wide and she looks to you. You're just as stunned as her so she looks back at Frannie with a slow nod. Frannie smiles, "Awesome." She lets go of Rachel and walks back into the kitchen.

Rachel shoots you a look that begs for advice or help. You just shrug. Your sister has never done anything like this before and when you're about to tell Rachel that her parents and your mother and sister walk out of the kitchen.

"C'mon Quinn," Steve smiles at you, "We'll drop you off at the tire shop to get your car."

You scan for Rachel to see if she can give you any cues, but find that she's already been swept away by your mother and sister. You try to get into the backseat of the Berry car, but Eliot insists that you sit in the front seat with Steve.

"Okay, what are the three points I told you about if you date Rachel?" Steve asks as he takes off toward the tire shop.

You gulp and pause for a moment to think before rattling off, "Treat her well, fidelity, and brown is not a wedding color."

"Very good," he smiles and glances at you as you end up on the street where the tire shop is, "Treating her well encompasses a lot of things. What do you suppose some of them are?"

Your mouth goes dry. This is a test that you certainly didn't get a chance to study for. "Respect, courteousness, politeness?…" you're very quickly running out of things to say.

They both let out a laugh and Eliot leans forward, "Honey that's how you treat a teacher. This isn't the first day of school. Although all of those still apply."

"I believe that you know what we mean when we say treat her well," Steve pulls the car over in front of the tire shop, "You're a smart girl Quinn and we believe that you do love Rachel and you will respect her. It's a precarious situation you two are in. Her feelings are new and your feelings are years old, add that to the fact that you're best friends and you live together? I don't think it's going to be as easy as both of you think it is. Especially Rachel. Before she starts things she thinks everything is going to end up like a fairytale. We just want you both to go into this with the understanding that it's not going to be all rainbows and sunshine."

You slowly nod, absorbing everything he has to say. You're still stunned by her asking you out on a date, you haven't actually thought past that. He's making some really valid points.

Eliot adds, "And please stop making her think that she can make oatmeal. That's why we called to see what you were doing for breakfast because she made us breakfast and is completely convinced that it's edible."

You chuckle and nod, "Okay."

"Thank you for listening Quinn," Steven pulls you into a hug, "You've made me feel a hundred percent better about this."

You accept the hug, but get out of the car as fast as you can. You walk up to the front of the tire shop without looking back and hear their car drive off. When you step inside, you're relieved to find Burt at the front counter instead of Carol. He smiles at you, "Hey Quinn."

"Hey," you smile back. You feel like you're on a roll with dads today. Steve and Eliot approve of you dating Rachel and Burt doesn't hate your guts. You'd call that a good start to your day.

Burt scans the wall and picks up a clip board, "Four new tires and an oil change?"

You nod, "That sounds right." You don't wait for him to tell you how much, you just hand over your credit card. You know that when you get home you'll be eating at home for a while until the sale of that amazing apartment that you really wish you could have goes through in a few days. The good news is that the buyers you found seems to love it as much as you do.

He swipes your card and hands it back to you, "It's good to see you Quinn. You look good."

You let out a smile, "Thanks. You do too."

"Finn's in the garage," he says, "He'll get you your keys."

You nod and walk through the back door, hearing the ringing of the front door opening behind you. You want to get out of their hair so they can get back to their current customers. You step into the garage and see Finn standing over a car, scratching his head in his jumpsuit.

He looks over when he sees you coming, "Hey."

"Hey," you smile back.

"You heading out?" he asks, grabbing your keys off of the peg on the wall behind him.

You nod and stand next to him in front of the open car, "Yeah. Rachel's got a show tonight. We're having breakfast with our parents then we're leaving from there."

He turns around to the cluttered desk and picks up a new paper, "Check it out." He hands you the front page. There's a picture of Rachel standing in front of the past and present glee club from last night. The headline reads, "Broadway Star Returns to Lima To Sing At Former Teacher's Wedding."

Your eyes continue scanning the page. It was dotted with a few smaller pictures. You see one of you and Rachel dancing to Santana's 1,2 Step and smile.

"You can have that one," Finn offers, "I have another one at home."

"Thanks," you tuck it into your purse, "I guess I should go before Rachel, Frannie, and Mom start telling embarrassing stories about me."

He chuckles and hugs you again, "Let me know next time you're in town. We can go have a drink and talk about our girlfriends."

You laugh. It's so much easier to be around him now that you're not both miserable. When the door to the front of the shop opens, his eyes flicker over to it, but you ignore it, "We'll see. I haven't even taken her on our first official date…" You trail off when you see his smile disappear.

You start to turn around to see who he's frowning at, but he grabs your shoulder to stop you from turning around. "Don't look," he says quietly with a stern seriousness he's never spoken to you with, "Just walk with me to your car." He slides his arm around your shoulders and effectively shields you from whoever is at the door.

You hear Burt talking about a tire or something and you wait to hear who else is talking. Finn was starting to freak you out and you had to know who was there. It couldn't be his mom because he could easily diffuse that situation. Then when you hear the voice of the other person your heart sink into your stomach and you aren't sure you could walk any more.

"Quinn?" Finn asks concerned as he leads you out the door. You didn't hear him because of the whirling sound in your ears. You didn't hear him ask you if you were okay to drive because you heard the voice of the only man in the world that you venomously despise. "Quinn?"

You're almost to your car when you turn around and see him. Russell Fabray is looking right at you. He puts his hands in the pockets of his over priced slacks and sizes you up. "I thought I saw you in the paper this morning." His face still shows the same disapproval it did the last time you saw him, the night he kicked you out of your house. You know what's about to come out of his mouth. You saw the line in the paper about the speculation of you and Rachel being an item.

"Leave her alone," Finn states with a forced finality.

Russell's face gets hard, "You watch your tone with me son."

"Excuse me?" Burt asks, turning to Russell, "That's my son. And I think if all you're going to do in my shop is harass nice girls then you can leave. In fact, I'll show you out myself."

"I meant nothing ill toward your son," Russell adds, "I was just wonder what he's doing with her."

The way he says 'her' makes you want to vomit. Your knees buckle and Finn catches you before you fall. He turns you around and keeps you walking toward you car. He opens the driver's door for you and sets you in the seat, kneeling in front of you. You didn't even know you were crying until the wind makes your cheeks cold from the tears.

"I can drive you to wherever you need to go okay?" he asks, quietly trying to catch your eyes.

You hear yelling behind you and turn around to see Russell and Burt yelling at each other. You hear words like 'slut' and 'sinner' spew from Russell's mouth. The tears come harder and faster. You could kick your own ass for letting him get to you again.

Finn gets up and walks back over to the two men, making sure things don't get physical. You've had enough. You can't take anymore so you shove your key in the ignition and drive off. You don't even look in the rearview mirror. You just drive.

You know where you're supposed to meet everyone and you sit in the parking lot of the restaurant for a good five minutes before your phone rings. You look at the screen and see that Finn is calling you.

"Hello?" you ask, your voice breaking.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, "Do you need me to come pick you up and take you to Rachel?"

You rest your forehead on the steering wheel, "No. I'm already here…sorta. I'm in the parking lot. He didn't hit Burt did he?"

"No," Finn's voice grew lighter, "He went for it, but I got there first. I can't tell you how good that felt. He said he's pressing charges but Burt's friends with the police chief so I'm not worried. You okay?"

You take a deep breath, "I will be." You look up at the restaurant and see the group that's waiting for you. They're seated by the window, all laughing. You don't want to be a wet blanket at this breakfast. You sigh, "Thanks Finn."

"No problem," he says, "Call me if you need anything else okay?"

"Okay," you rest your head on the steering wheel again, hoping that no one at the table can see you, "Thanks again."

"No problem," he adds, "Be safe. Bye."

"Bye," you say and hang up. You guess that you need to fix your make up before you go inside because if you don't go in soon, your mom or Rachel will sent out a search party.

You fleetingly think about calling your mom so you can talk about what happened, but this weekend has been an emotional roller coaster for her and you don't want to drag her into this mess. So you decide it's better to just redo your makeup and pretend like it didn't happen.

But when you get into the restaurant your resolve diminishes. You see your mom laughing and you don't want her to know what happened. She's happy. So you put on a smile and walk up to the table. You're sort of glad that the only open chair is on the opposite end of the table from Rachel and your mom. You know if anyone figures out that you've been upset, it's them.

You keep quiet on your end of the table, laughing when you're supposed to and avoiding eye contact with your relatives and Rachel. Eliot seems to notice something, but when you politely smile at him, he smiles back with a nod and doesn't say anything about it.

You see Rachel watching you from the other end of the table. When you smile, trying to get her to relax, she just studies you harder. So you engage Eliot in a conversation.

After breakfast, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You figure that you if you want to get Rachel back in time you need to limit your bathroom breaks. When you finish and open the stall door, leaning on the sink and staring at you is your mother.

"Quinn," her arms are crossed, "What's wrong?"

You sigh and shake your head, "You're having fun. I don't want to-"

"Quinn Fabray," she says sternly, "Tell you mother what had you crying in your car."

You move to the sink to try to get over the shock that she actually saw you. You turn on the water, put some soap in your hand and stick your hands in the water, "I um, ran into Russell at the tire shop." You turn off the water and dry off your hands with some paper towels.

"Oh honey," she takes you into her arms, "You can tell me these things. I don't care if I just won the lottery or a date with George Clooney. You tell me."

You chuckle against her shoulder, but will tears back into your eyes. You know they're going to fall, you just don't want enough for Rachel to notice. You have a long ride home for her to question you about what happened.

"Are you okay?" she asks, "Did he hurt you?"

"Not physically," you pull away and wipe your eyes. You realize that you didn't bring your purse with you into the bathroom so there's no fixing your mascara. You take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror. There's minimal runnage so you figure that you can fix it without your purse. "Finn laid him out though."

"Good for him," your mother smiles and the glee in her voice makes you giggle. You fix your mascara as best you can and turn back to your mom. She pulls you into her arms once again and kisses your head, "You're a beautiful, brilliant girl Quinn and I'm so, so proud of you."

You cling to your mom. It feels so good to hear her say those things, especially now that your relationship with Rachel is out in the open. It reaffirms your hope that your mom's love is unconditional. "Thanks mom."

"I love you Quinnie," she says.

When you're both done being all sappy and sentimental, you find the Berrys and your sister sitting at a cleared table, ready to go. You all say goodbye in the parking lot and promise that you'll return soon.

After stopping to gas up your car, you get on the road out of Lima. It's quiet for the first two minutes before Rachel asks, "Are you going to tell me what happened this morning?"

"With your dads?" you ask, hoping that she doesn't suspect anything.

"Well you can start with that," she states, and opens a bottle of juice that she got at the gas station, "Or you can tell me why you were crying."

You feel the tingle of tears behind your eyes and clench your jaw. You don't want to cry anymore. You just want to move on. You bite your lip, "Can I- I don't want to talk about it Rach."

She sighs heavily next to you and before you can apologize she says, "I understand."

"You do?" you ask in disbelief. You expected her to push harder.

"Quinn you have a long, sordid, and painful history in Lima and some of it is bound to resurface occasionally," she lays her head back on her headrest. You can see her lull her head to the side to look at you, "I don't expect full disclosure because that's just the kind of person that you are. Just know that I'm here when you do want to talk."

"What do you mean not the kind of person I am?" you ask, slightly offended.

She gently takes your hand and holds it between the two of you, "Quinn, we've had this talk. You've been hurt to the point where you're guarded. I understand that and I'm working on not needing to know everything that's going on with you. I just…want you to know that I'm here for you to talk to or to cry on or whatever. Until then, I'll be sitting in this seat and changing the subject."

You acutely shake your head with a small smile on your face. Rachel is beyond perfect. You brush your thumb across her knuckles in an action that you open tells her that you appreciate her patience. "Change away."

She disengages your hands to dig through her purse and extract her phone, "It appears that a photograph of us has found it's way onto the internet as well as a video of all the musical performances."

You frown. Gossip these days moves at light speed. First the Lima Post, now the entire world. "What were we doing in the picture?"

"We were just dancing…very close. It apparently hit the internet very soon after it was taken and my agent called during the reception." She states, sipping some more of her drink.

"Oh shit," You glance over at her, "I saw that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she takes your hand and slides her fingers together, "He just wanted to tell me that I was supposed to be more discreet."

You're not sure what she means by 'was supposed to'. "What?"

"I had a long talk with him and my publicist about the possibility of this relationship as I do with all of my potential suitors a few days ago," she reclines her seat and stretches not letting go of your hand.

"What'd they say?" you glance around at the road signs and change lanes getting ready to turn.

"They just want us to be discreet at first. Then my publicist wants the grand unveiling of this relationship to be at the Tony's," Rachel explains like it happens to her all the time, "But she still wants us to be coy about it and not give any straight answers to reporters. It keeps the media interested especially when my agent is shopping me around for plays with bigger audiences and possibly movies."

"Movies?" you ask as you turn onto the access road and merge onto the highway. This is the first you're hearing about movies.

You see her nod out of the corner of your eye, "I've been resistant at first, but it could be fun right? I mean it's not a normal eight show a week schedule and I'd have more down time. I love the stage, I do. It's just…I'm getting tired."

"That's understandable," you can see it in her face, especially if she has two shows a day. Putting forth that emotional effort has got to be exhausting. Especially to the extent that Rachel does it. "If I can help you at all, let me know."

Gently squeezing your hand, she adds, "Thanks."

After about twenty minutes of nothing but the humming of the tires against the road, you glance over at her. She looks tired, but is staring out the window, watching Ohio turn into Pennsylvania. You shake her hand a bit to get her attention, "Why don't you get some sleep? We didn't get much last night and you have a show tonight."

She smiles softly at you leans over the console to kiss your cheek, "Are you okay to drive without me keeping you awake?"

"I'm fine," you assure her. You have a lot to think about to keep you up.

"Okay," she settles back in her seat, "Wake me up if you want me to drive."

For the next few hours you're alone with your thoughts. Her warm, limp hand in yours calms the anxious thoughts you have and reminds you that your life is in New York now.

Her feet are up on the dashboard as you finally pull into the state of New York. She's awake and fully refreshed and questioning you about the date you're taking her on in six days, "So this date we're going on, if you don't tell me anything about it, how am I supposed to know what to wear?"

"I haven't decided yet, but if all goes as planned, I'll provide your clothes," you explain. It's true. If you're going to do this date right, you're going to have her dressed the part without her stressing at all about what she's going to wear. Especially if what she's going to wear is going to complete the perfect date.

You can tell that she's looking at you and all you can do is smile. She takes her hand out of yours and asks, "Am I not stylish enough to dress myself?"

You can tell she's trying to get you to reveal something by pretending to be offended. You pat her arm and offer her a, "Nice try."

She crosses her arms, "Can I at least get a hint?"

You think about it for a moment and answer, "It's not at a sports bar." That's a better hint than she thinks it is, but she still pouts in the passenger's seat.

She's quiet over it for a few more minutes and you go back to thinking. Or over thinking. You look at her for a moment before your eyes go back to the road.

"What's wrong?" she asks quietly, turning in her seat to face you.

You lick your lips and tighten your grip on the steering wheel, "I was just thinking about what your dad said."

"I-is that why you were crying earlier?" she asks softly with an edge to her voice. You know she'd be on the phone faster than you could stop her if he did.

You quickly shake your head, "No. I just…on the way to pick up my car, you dad said that this is going to be complicated." You run your teeth over your bottom lip, "That our situation is going to make this more complicated than normal. And I don't want to contribute to that with secrecy. I just…it's easier for me to sit on it and ignore what happens."

Both of her hands on enveloping your free hand. You slowly blink because you can feel the tears coming. "It's like I have this box of emotions and every time I open this box they start to flood out and it's easier if I just don't open it at all."

She's silently absorbing everything. You feel her fingers trail up and down your arms, trying to comfort you. You pull off to the side of the road and put the car in park. At this point, it's dangerous for you to drive because tears are clouding your vision.

You don't look at her though. You keep your eyes straight ahead. "I don't want to hide things from you. I really don't, but…I don't know how to just put it all out there."

After you don't say anything for a moment she adds, "I understand." She reaches forward and tenderly wipes away a trail of tears down the right side of your face, making no effort to get you to look at her.

"I saw Russell today…my dad…" Your head drops. It's like you lose self-esteem just talking about him, "I saw him at the tire shop." Your hair is shielding your face from her so you can't see what she's doing. A sob overtakes you and you pull your hand away from her to cover your face.

You hear the click of your seatbelt being unfastened. You feel her pulling at your hand and your arm. You numbly move with the pulls and prods until you're in her lap, your head on her shoulder. You feel like you can't breathe. You try to force out more words to explain why he has his effect on you, but it comes out fragmented in short bursts, "His face…so disappointed…hurts so bad…like the first time…"

"Shhh," she strokes your hair and kisses your tear glossed cheeks, "It's okay. He's gone now."

You try to bury yourself deeper in her and you close your eyes, just feeling her around you. Her smell comforts you and her arms around you give you a sense of security. You finally get a grip and get your breathing under control. Then you sit up and wipe your eyes, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she kisses your temple and smiles at you with watery eyes. It's apparent she was crying with you, "Sometimes you need to open the box and spill it a little so it doesn't explode." Her eyes roam over your face, "I'm glad I was the one here for you when it happened."

You lean back into her and wrap your arms around her, "You really are the best. Ever."

"Yeah well," she shrugs with a giggle and rubs your upper thigh, "Years of practice."

You kiss Rachel's cheek, lingering for a moment before moving to get back in your seat. Once you're situated again, you take off. She takes your hand and turns on the radio.

After singing along to the songs, blaring out of your speakers for a little over an hour, you finally pull to a stop outside of the theatre. She's a little early, but she insists that it's okay. With a parting peck on the lips, she walks into the theatre.

When you get back to your apartment, you unload all the bags with a little help from Ethan and politely decline an invitation from him for nachos and a game. It was a long drive and you just want to get some sleep. You fall down on the couch and you're overcome by sleep before you can get both of your shoes off.