Faithfully

A/N: So here you go, I'm being really generous with this story, it may be because of the reviewers who are freaking awesome! Seriously!

Enjoy!

BTW: This song is named after "Because" By "The Beatles", but the Across The Universe version is the one I'm insanely stuck on at the moment, it's an awesome movie!

Chapter 3

In a span of twenty four hours, in what started off to be a normal day with Quinn working her usual three or four or maybe five appointments, and managing to be depressed and severely pathetic about her lost relationship with Rachel Berry, she had managed to do both and end up sleeping on Santana and Brittany's couch after caring for her friends in their wasted state.

Oh, and don't forget coming face to face with the face that had plagued her mind for the past nine years, and ruining any chance of igniting the far blown flame.

"Fuck."

It was the phrase that had repeatedly escaped the blonde's lips since she had fatefully took flight from the only opportunity she had ever wanted and now she sat in her best friend's kitchen, staring at the wood of their table, trying to figure out what influenced the coward inside of her to appear suddenly in the one moment she was relying on a brave person to appear.

She was itching for a cigarette.

Did she mention that she had taken up smoking during her first year of college?

It was a hard habit to kick, it was so easy to forget the pain of the things you just couldn't salvage, it was easy to numb the failure felt inside of you when you gave up your daughter, or missed the chance to be with the person you truly loved.

Easier than drinking, but just a tad more dangerous to people's eyes.

She managed to salvage herself and get rid of the bad habit, she managed to stop the urge of sucking on the cancer sticks since her junior year, but damn it…she wanted one now more than ever.

"Fuck!" She reached for her cup of coffee she had gone out and picked up for herself, too focused on her ongoing malfunction when it came to things that seriously mattered, to prepare anything, let alone brew a pot of java for herself.

Why the hell couldn't she ever do anything right?

Ever?

It was an honest problem she thought had something to do with her genetics or something. Or rather it was in the Fabray bloodline to fuck up anything that involved loving another person.

Oh, but that couldn't be it because she had managed to be a healthy lover of the woman.

For nine years she had managed to fall in love, and be a devoted person to woman…almost.

If only she was in an actual relationship, and not loving and admiring from afar. If only she had the power to call her up and ask her herself how she was doing. Instead of sitting around engulfed in the sounds of angry people and tattoo parlors and the buzz of her pen marking people's skin with the permanent ink.

Jesus, what the fuck was Rachel doing in fucking West Hollywood, outside of a fucking gay bar on a fucking Friday night?

What the fuck?

Didn't she have some sort of husband somewhere and some great life with some great part in some major Broadway show making loads of fucking money?

That is what the gold star had aspired to be since her day of birth, and Quinn had no doubt that she would make it to that dream. There was no doubt that she was endure the tasks needed to be endured in order for her to become immersed in success and fame.

Not that Quinn would know anything about the brunette, she hadn't contacted her in nine years, anyway.

So, there was one point where blame could be placed easily.

Good fucking job Fabray.

She swore sometimes that inner voice that spoke to her with mirth and disdain was the always '"so sweet" voice of one Santana Lopez.

Seriously, sometimes she wondered if the Latina had snuck some sort of recording in her brain that allowed her to comment on every single screw up she ever took place in.

Quinn wondered as she let the now warm coffee slide down her throat if Santana figured the same conclusion with her, but quickly knew the answer to that.

There was no conscious in the evil demons head.

But she loved her like a sister.

"Fucking shoot me."

And there was said demon, waltzing with an air of vomit and headaches now, eyes squinting at the light from the kitchen ceiling, in a silk robe with tousled hair.

"Good morning sunshine!"

"Or let me shoot you, one or the other. What is your problem, tubbers?" She said snatching the outstretched coffee from Quinn's hand.

"I've got a lot of problems, but the first one on the list today is bringing you back to life, Lopez, what do you say?" She spoke a smile tugging playfully at her lips.

"Fuck off."

"That's my girl, now hurry up and drink your coffee, you've got a big day today, your secretary called there are a couple of cases that you've got to handle-"

"I'm not going to handle that shit today, I feel like ass, call her back and tell her to give that shit to Wesley."

"But I thought you said Wesley was a jackass?" Quinn questioned, watching her truly lost and groggy friend attempt to raise the scalding liquid to her lips.

"He is. And he insulted me when he thought I couldn't hear him a couple weeks ago, payback, is a bitch." She raised the cup for the second time, after an obvious fail at a first try.

"Santana that's hot, let it cool off."

"You don't tell me what to do." She dipped her tongue out to swig the coffee only to jump halfway out of her chair at the sensation of the burn.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Q!" She slammed the cup back down on table, and rushed to the sink to grab a glass of water.

Quinn giggled, "I figured that would work."

"You are a bitch."

"Thank you, I've accepted that by now." She spoke with an air of nonchalance, "But you're awake now, aren't you? And by the way you go call your damn secretary your damn self, I've got bigger things to worry about."

Santana raised an eyebrow at her, awake and piqued with interest at her friend's sudden ability to get off the subject of insulting her.

"Hmm, Fabray what's up with that?"

"Nothing, it's the shop, I've got a couple of appointments today…and as a matter of fact it's about that time for me to go on in and take care of that, so no need to thank me for picking you and your wife's drunk asses up and bringing you home after you got ass drunk, I'm gonna go-"

And she attempted to raise from the table, cup of java in hand.

"Sit the fuck down preggers!"

"You know that's getting kind of old considering I'm not pregnant anymore, San."

"Doesn't matter, the name stuck…but don't try and change the fucking subject, what are these bigger things that you've got to worry about?" Santana inquired jumping on the counter to swing her feet.

"Damn it bitch, do we have to do this?"

"Come on Q, you can make this easy or you can make this hard…either way I'm gonna get it out of you."

Quinn knew that was a painful truth. "Fuck. Okay so while I was attempting to get your drunk ass and Brittany's drunk ass-"

"Don't talk about my wife's ass…"

"Shut up, anyway when this complete stranger brought you two to me, after hitting on me of course, I decided that the best thing to do for you dumbasses were to take you two home." Quinn started.

"Seriously? Someone hit on your prude ass? Look outside and make sure pigs aren't flying blondie."

"Fuck you, do you want to know or not?" Quinn snapped, and the Latina raised her hands in defeat.

"Okay. Well I made you guys hold each other's hands because it seemed that neither of you were really stable, but I couldn't carry both of your heavy asses but when we got the car…"

The memory of her gorgeous face filled Quinn's brain and the mole still resting on her cheek, her hair still long and silk like on sight, and her slim taut body still sexy if not even more with the loss of argyle and gain of fashion sense.

"When we got to the car? I don't even remember that shit."

"Well…I ran into someone from high school, it's no big deal…" Quinn questioned her intelligence every time she attempted to dodge an already addressed subject.

"Who? Someone from Glee? Was it Aretha or Glitter?" Santana joked and Quinn knew she meant Mercedes and Kurt, the fashionable duo, and for a brief moment she allowed herself to wonder what those two were doing nowadays.

"In the parking lot of a gay bar? Sure…well Kurt maybe, but Mercedes? Probably not…"

"Well then just fucking tell me Q! Obviously it was someone that means just a little bit more to you because you seem all worried and torn up about it, was it Finn? Or dare I say it, Puck? I feel sorry for you if you were graced with his irritating presence." She spoke rolling her eyes with a smirk.

But Quinn was silent.

"Rachel."

"Rachel? Berry? You ran into Manhands in the parking lot of a gay club and you're all fucked up about it?" Santana said with a laugh and Quinn got just a little pissed at the old nickname that was so cruel in it's ways to the poor girl.

"Don't call her that."

"What the fuck is up? Did she talk you into bedazzling your damn image or something? You hate her Q…"

And when that point was addressed, Santana's face went into a slow revelation, an obvious epiphany formed in the crease of her forehead and her knowing eyes, and for the first time in a long time Quinn felt hot under someone's gaze.

"You're in love with her aren't you?" She inquired and just like that, Quinn's resolve was gone with the wind.

"Santana I don't want to talk about it." She said which was such a futile remark.

"Bullshit! That's what you've been moping about for forever? That's why you've been refusing to go out with Brittany and I? That's why you've been walking around here avoiding every hot female's advances for you and stating that you weren't interested in dating because you're hung up on, RuPaul?" She said with a slightly incredulous laugh, and Quinn stood from her chair really itching for the cigarette now.

"Shut up, and don't call her that, please Santana I don't wanna hear anyone's scrutiny especially yours." She tossed the now empty cup in the trashcan and turned the faucet on beside the questioning woman.

"Oh stop kidding yourself, you've been hearing my scrutiny since you brought the twenty-four pack of crayons to school and I had the sixty-four." She said with her pursed lips, a Santana Lopez face more famous than any other.

"You thought you were hot shit." Quinn laughed, just a little bitter about the crayons thing.

"I was, and you weren't Fabray, deal. Anyway, so you're hung up over Rachel Berry and you obviously haven't communicated with her since we graduated?"

"Yeah…I've never told her that I've loved her since regionals sophmore year." Quinn stated leaning against the sink with an ease letting her mind wander back to the moment when things were so clear, and so unfortunately unbearable to look at with an open mind.

"Aww, shit Fabray so let me just read between the lines here, and save you some time, you saw Berry last night and you fled like a damn pussy didn't you?" Santana guessed obviously spot on with her imagery.

"I just froze San, I have no idea what happened I was looking at her and she was looking at me and I just didn't know what to do…it probably doesn't matter, she was probably coming from some meeting with a casting director or going home to her husband and kid or something-" Quinn mused with an air of melancholy in her tone.

"Are you seriously that big of a dumbass? Why the fuck would Berry be coming from a meeting at one in the morning? And what was she doing in the parking lot of a gay club going home to her kids? That whole street is full of clubs Quinn, there's no way she was just out with 'the girls', Quinn she's obviously all gay for you." Santana grinned as if she had found the cure for cancer.

"Shut up Santana! Don't mock me, I seriously love her." Quinn said outloud for the first time to another person.

"I'm not fucking mocking you, I'm serious. Stop being a fucking pansy and go after her. You know she's gay it's obvious, she's probably just holding back from all those years of fueding. And if it's not that, then just tickle her vag a couple of times, she'll fall in love with the gorgeous and tattooed and misunderstood Quinn Fabray." Santana smiled a sarcastic smile of sorts.

"It's not gonna happen, she's probably deeply in love with someone, who is not me, I just need to get my ass up and over her…but, you really think I'm gorgeous, Lopez?" Quinn asked with feigned interest.

"Yeah sure, a gorgeous pain in my ass."

"Whatever bitch, I've got to head to the shop, I've got to take my frustrations out on a couple of willing costumers." Quinn spoke staring at the Latina.

"And?"

"And get your ass in the shower, your coming with me bitch. I've got to get home, so you've got to drop me off." Quinn said, pushing the woman out of the kitchen a little.

"I don't have to anything but stay Hispanic and die, sweetheart." Santana said though she was making her way up the stairs.

"Yeah the one thing we both actually want you to do for me and you're not doing it soon enough."

What seemed like an hour later, both girls had successfully made it to the shop, Santana feeling a lot more sober with just a small ache in her temple.

And Quinn?

Well, save for her not being hungover she still felt like a complete ass, and only having two appoinments for the day only made it worse.

Her pain always seemed to get a little better when she could work through it, but there was only two special requests that afternoon for her, so that left her very open for the rest of the day.

Her first client, a cougar trying desperately to hold on to her age, was incompetent and extremely hard to work with, and it seemed she only wanted to dictate Quinn's idea's.

Quinn decided to draw what the fuck the lady wanted to hurry her out the shop before her next consult arrived, and she was glad to find that she had a moment for a break while waiting on such appoinment.

She relocated to the break room in the back but spotted her business partner in her own personal office, glasses tipped down on her nose looking at a stack of pictures.

"What's up San?"

"Looking and Mine and B's wedding photos, the photographer sent them in today…" She passed through each photo with close attention.

"Damn S, you act like you're studying for some sort of test or something, is it really that important?"

Wrong question.

Santana snapped her head to look at Quinn, "These are my fucking wedding photos, so yes! These are the pictures our kids are going to look at…I want them to be able to say wow…these were taken by a fantastic photographer, Mom."

Quinn raised her eyebrows, "Wow…kids already? It's only been like two months, Lopez, and you're already planning for a baby?" She was just surprised in the slightest that her friend was so eager to have kids…she didn't really seem the adolescent type, let alone a baby.

Santana stared hard at Quinn. "This stays in this room, but I've been ready to start a family with Brittany since our senior year…I want kids." She said, and Quinn couldn't deny the flattery behind the vigor in her best friend's voice, it was very normal to see Santana get just a little more poetic when it came to Brittany.

"I see, so you guy's are gonna get a donor and impregnate one of you? Let me just say I hope it's B, because I am not gonna deal with your mean ass pregnant, I can barely deal with your mean ass in normalty." Quinn said leaning on the door frame.

"Hell no," She said, her nose crinkled up in slight irritation, "I said I wanted kids, not that I wanted to bear them…not right now at least, plus I would love to see Brittany swollen in pregnancy…she would be beautiful, and to answer your question, yes. We've actually been interviewing a lot of guys lately."

"Aww…"

"Shut the fuck up, Q."

Quinn snickered at the Latina's inability to be subjected to passionate and sweet surroundings, it was quite hilarious when she had no choice but to be and she had to endure the cooeing.

Their "friendly" banter was interrupted however, by the front desk recoptionist Kim, meeting Quinn's expression in the hallway.

"Your three o'clock is here." She stated simply, and Quinn nodded, oh joy.

She left the Latina to do business and stepped out onto the floor only to be smacked in the face with her past itself.

Again.

Standing in a short white dress was, Rachel Berry, again staring at her with those big brown eyes, and a shy, hopeful, smile.

Quinn first allowed her eyes to travel and take in the woman, her tanned glistening legs were hightened by the white sandals and mid thigh dress that only seemed to cling hoplessly to her, and amplified her…assets.

Those long chesnut locks were curled slightly, in the natural silky way they always did and Quinn could feel the drool slipping from her lips.

"Rachel." Same story, different setting, only this time Rachel was determined to talk first.

"Hi, I know this is all so sudden, but after last night, I just wanted to talk to you…and you left so suddenly I just had to find you, so I…I uh had my agent look you up and well here I am…"

"You had your agent find me?" She spoke in a deadpan.

"Yes, well…actually I had him find you before I saw you last night…I made this appointment weeks ago, when I found you lived here." She said a tint of red creeping up on her cheeks.

"Really?" Quinn questioned with a serious air of surprise, but she was proud of herself, she was talking to this goddess and she wasn't stumbling.

"Of course, I have uh, I've been thinking about a tattoo for a while, and well…everyone's recommended you…you've got fantastic records, Quinn." Rachel said with a smile.

"Can we go back to my office to talk?"

And it seeemed the diva was relieved to hear the suggestion, and as Quinn let her pass by she took the time to admire the view from behind…there was so much for her to know about Rachel…but only if the fates would let her.

Or rather, if she would let herself.

Quinn opened the door that led straight to her office, and sat down behind her desk, pulling out a sketchbook. Flipping to a clean page a silence overtook the two of them, and the blonde herself allowed that time to stare at her paper.

"I lied."

They were the first two words to empty Rachel's mouth, rushed but serious, and Quinn raised her gaze to the woman.

She didn't speak, she didn't get a chance.

"I mean I did have my agent look you up…but not for a tattoo, or at least that wasn't the plan, I just I-I knew I was moving to West Hollywood, L.A. isn't my style, and I was talking to Kurt and he was saying how you lived here, and well…I missed you, Quinn."

Quinn was just a bit taken aback at the confession and raised an eyebrow to keep her cool demeanor, and was really just excited about the fact that someone had been thinking and nevertheless talking about her.

"Wow," She paused to let her eyes flicker to the blank paper, "I missed you too, Rachel."

The brunette smiled as if she was expecting her say otherwise and she crossed her legs, the glow of her skin reflecting in the glare of the sunlight, it moved Quinn to swallow.

"You've certainly grown successful, Quinn…" She started looking up and around at all of the paintings on her wall, and even a few photos. They were college projects most of them, pride and past.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." That was the best reply she could really think of, seriously.

"No really, a chain of shops? And you are the highest rank in the country, I did some research, even that Miami ink woman isn't any match for you, some of the wealthiest people pay for you draw on their arm, and every time apparently you create a magical image." She stated all in one breath, and Quinn grinned at the motor mouth that she had fell in love with during high school appearing once more.

"I mean, I always liked to draw…I drew all the time in school, and after high school it kind of escalated…"

Rachel was staring at her intensely, and Quinn felt like she was burning under the girl's gaze, so she awkwardly reached for a binder that she kept next to her desk and Rachel's eyes flickered to her arm that was immensely covered in ink…Quinn's masterpiece is what Santana called it.

"I uh…I have some photos of some stuff, if you want to-"

"Did you create that yourself?" She cut her off quickly, and Quinn was lost as to what she was inquiring about until she followed her hard gaze to her arm, and suddenly she wished she would have worn sleeves.

"What's the background behind that?" Rachel asked curiously, interested and Quinn knew why as she leaned over to peer even more closely at the image and her chest was on full view for Quinn's eyes, she could feel the air turn just a little humid at the gesture, and she quickly stood from her seat.

"It's nothing, really…are you gonna look at the photo's or not?"

Rachel turned to her, "Are you gonna explain to me of your tattoo?"

Quinn stared at her, determined not elaborate it was getting mildly overwhelming, her presence…the presence of this angel.

"I don't know, maybe some other time…Rachel, I haven't heard from you in nine years since you went off to Julliard and suddenly you're here, asking me about…about my tattoo's and things-"

"Well Quinn Fabray you certainly did not try to contact me while you were getting tans on the UCLA campus, not once. So don't you dare try to point the finger at me, and don't try to divert your animosity to me either for simply trying to get to know you with your piercing and tattooed, ahem, self after years of neglect of friendship."

There was a reason for that.

Quinn stared.

"Why would you want to get to know me?"

Rachel kept her mouth firmly shut, a thin straight line of sorts taking her open mouth's place.

"There are many reasons Quinn."

"A jaded answer if I ever heard one." Quinn challenged, crossing her arms. And Rachel stood to the girl, still just a little shorter even with the spiked sandals, but under the impression that she was intimidating.

"I'll answer when you answer my question about the tattoo." She stated.

"I will, some other time…"

"What about dinner tonight? Is that a suitable time to talk about it? Maybe we can figure out a lot of things."

Quinn thought the air was knocked out of her body when the words escaped her mouth.

"Tonight?"

"Yes. Tonight. We can have drinks and catch up, and answer each other's questions." She said a little less business and a little more genuine, a little more Rachel.

Quinn didn't know what to say.

This fiesty woman had just walked back into her life, and now she was attempting to take her out to dinner. Not like a date or anything though, because she wasn't even sure if the woman even knew she was head over heels in love with her, she wasn't even sure if she was straight.

"I-I don't know…Rachel." She said.

The brunette took her hand, her small soft fingers coming in contact with those of Quinn's it was an endearing gesture, it was one of many meanings, none of which Quinn figured she knew.

"Quinn, please let me take you to dinner tonight." She asked and her brunette eyes peered into those of Quinn's with an air of hopefulness, one that...even if Quinn wasn't in love with her, she probably would have given into.

"Okay."

And maybe she was venturing into something that she wasn't ready for, and maybe Rachel was straight and just interested in being best friends again,

But there was something about the way the girl smiled when she agreed and how she engulfed Quinn in a warm hug with her arms around her waist and her fingers resting on Quinn's lower back, and how she seemed so comfortable, how she seemed more comfortable than she had been in a very long time under Quinn, that made her think…

This could be very interesting.

A/N: Woah, I totally wasn't expecting that to be as long as it was…lol.

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