Quinn's back was hurting.

She was trying to play it off, but Rachel knew that sleeping on the couch was taking its toll on the young woman. She seemed to practically hobble as she walked about the room, still getting her books together for the one class she had that day, but she put on a brave face as she turned to her apartment-guest.

"Are you sure you're okay to do this?"

Rachel gave her a half-smile. "It's shopping, I think I can manage."

Quinn looked at her, one eyebrow perfectly arched, and Rachel couldn't help but shiver. She was familiar with it, she couldn't deny that. But it didn't matter what it had meant when she was younger… it meant something else now.

"You really don't have to, if you don't want to, Rachel."

She shook her head. "It was nice of Elle to ask, and it might be nice to just go out for a little while."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

"I've got it," Quinn said, slowly making her way over and grinning at Rachel. "No need to break out Shakespeare."

Rachel huffed. "I said it was an accident!"

"Putting a textbook in a pillow case and whacking my friend in the stomach is not an accident!"

"I see she hasn't let that go," Elle said, entering the apartment with a wide smile.

"Evidently not," Rachel said, shooting Quinn an angry look.

"Oh look, I'm going to be late for class if I don't leave right now," Quinn said hurriedly, "glancing" at her watch before giving Rachel a sheepish grin.

She shook her head again but wasn't able to keep the smile off her own face. "Go," she said, "I don't want you to be late."

"I'm actually about twenty minutes early," Quinn confessed, looking from Rachel to Elle and back again. "But I thought you two would be in a hurry to get your shop on."

Rachel wasn't sure if she was in much of a hurry to leave the apartment at all, despite knowing that she wasn't willing to trade one virtual prison for another one. She couldn't stay in Quinn's apartment for the rest of her life, even though outside the apartment lacked… what? Uncertainty. Confusion.

Clothing stores.

"We'll see where the day takes us," Elle said, and Rachel was relieved to hear how easygoing she sounded.

That had been the first impression Rachel had had of her, when she'd come over the previous night, bringing cookies. Rachel had partly believed the cookies were just an excuse for Elle to give her the once-over and report back to Quinn's friend Jamie, but Rachel couldn't say that she blamed her, really. If she had a friend who was hung up on someone as much as Quinn was still invested in Rachel, Rachel would want to make sure she was being treated right, too.

But Elle hadn't interrogated her, hadn't asked that many questions at all other than if Rachel was well and if she needed anything. She knew that Quinn had probably told Elle and Jamie what had happened, if not about how Rachel's mother had struck her, then simply that Rachel was staying a while until she could get back on her feet. She didn't know how much Elle and Jamie knew of the whole story, even before That Night, but Rachel was pretty sure she didn't mind.

It was good that at least one of them had had someone to talk to, in the past five years.

It was interesting for Rachel to watch Elle the previous night, to see the way she spoke and carried herself. If anything, Elle was a prime example of how submissiveness could be just natural, and permeate everything she said and did. Though she was friends with Quinn, it was apparent that Quinn was a Dominant; everything she said was with a tone of respect, and, once, she'd slipped up and called Quinn Ma'am – which did not go unnoticed by Rachel and made her color and clench her fists with something a little like jealousy, up until she saw Quinn looking at her with amusement.

Apparently even though Quinn couldn't feel Rachel's emotions anymore, she could read her like a book.

Rachel decided she'd be less transparent in the future.

And then realized transparency was the least of her worries because in that moment she'd been thinking about her future. With Quinn.

Elle's request to take Rachel shopping had, later on that evening, gone to Quinn. Rachel had gone to the restroom and small as the apartment was, she was able to hear snatches of the conversation.

"… not sure if she's ready to just yet—"

"—can't keep her inside forever…"

"… aware of that, but I'm just trying to protect—"

"—just shopping, she might enjoy it—"

"Shopping?" Rachel had said, coming out of the bathroom after having washed her hands.

Both Elle and Quinn had jumped as if they'd been caught, which they had, really, but Rachel thought it was sweet nonetheless.

Elle crossed the short distance of the floor over to Rachel and nodded at her. "I have to run some errands tomorrow and I thought you might like to accompany me. Quinn mentioned that you might like to buy some new clothes."

Rachel cast a grateful look at Quinn, glad that she at least hadn't told Elle that Rachel had run away from home with only the clothes she was wearing.

"Your mistr- uh… Jamie won't mind?" Quinn's eyes had widened, and Rachel clamped her mouth shut.

It would have been the first time she'd said Mistress aloud in five years.

"No," Elle said, regarding Rachel a little oddly. "Like I said, I need to run some errands and my lady will be just fine as long as I finish those up as she's asked."

"Oh," Rachel felt lost, unsure of what else to say. She was quiet for a moment, then looked at Quinn, who was watching her with, once again, worried eyes.

When would Quinn Fabray ever stop worrying about her? Rachel wondered.

She'd have the answer when she stopped worrying about Quinn, she supposed.

"I- we can go," she said to Elle, her lower lip tucked firmly between her teeth. She was going shopping with someone. Granted, that someone was Quinn's friend, but Rachel was going shopping with someone who wasn't her mother.

Would Elle like her?

"Excellent!" Elle had reached out and squeezed Rachel's forearm, a gesture of support that had somehow stayed with Rachel for the rest of the night, and into the next day.

"Rach?" Quinn was saying, and she focused her attention back to her.

"I thought about making a nice salad for dinner tonight, would you like that?"

"I can just pick up something on the way back, I don't want you to go through all that troub—"

"Do you like grilled chicken? If you do I'll add some to the salad for you."

Rachel scuffed the floor of the apartment with her shoe and looked up at Quinn. "A salad would be wonderful, thank you, and yes, to the chicken."

"Okay." Quinn came over to Rachel and cupped her cheek with her hand, something that had become a fast ritual in the last couple of days. Rachel knew it was probably a substitute for the kiss Quinn really wanted to give her, but still. That small touch on her face said so much.

"If you need me," Quinn said seriously, "I don't care where you are, you call, and I'll come get you."

"As if I would let anything happen to her," Elle scoffed, pretending to look hurt, but her eyes twinkled. Rachel decided that she liked her. "She'll be completely safe with me, Quinn."

"So," Elle said to her once they were out of the apartment and onto the street. "What's the first thing you think you'd like to buy?"

Rachel thought it over for a moment. "Socks," she said finally.

"Socks?"

"One can never have too many pairs of good knee socks."

"Huh. I guess you're right, even though I don't think I've ever worn knee socks."

"You're missing out."

"Maybe so, I'll have to ask my lady what she thinks of the idea," Elle laughed. "Between you and me I think she'll be pretty receptive."

Rachel nodded, again unsure of what to say but hating it when things had to devolve into yet another awkward silence. She and Quinn were getting better at avoiding those, but they'd still crop up every now and then, mostly when Rachel knew Quinn wanted to ask her What Happened?

And Rachel would just… stay quiet.

"What errands do you need to do?" she finally asked Elle, mostly because she thought it would be rude to agree to go shopping with someone and then just not say anything.

"Hmm," Elle pulled a list out of her jacket pocket and scanned it over. "Pick up items for dinner, though that can wait until the very last. Check to see if a book is available at the library, I've been wanting to read it for days now. And um, oh! Yes. Take you shopping."

Rachel stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, narrowly missing being plowed over by a businessman eager to get back to work from his lunch break.

"You didn't really have errands to run, did you?"

"No," Elle answered, the tiniest bit of a guilty expression on her face. "But I thought if I told you straight out that I came over to get to know you and get you out of Quinn's apartment for a little while, you wouldn't go."

"So you're wanting to check me out? Make sure I'm all right for Quinn?"

She was ready to turn and run, but Elle's hand on her forearm again stopped her.

"I'm wanting," the girl said evenly, and Rachel blinked in shock. "To get to know you. To make sure you're all right for yourself. And yes, to make sure Quinn is being treated well but honestly, that's secondary."

"Oh."

"I know a little of what it's like for you."

"No, you don't."

"I said a little."

They were quiet again until they reached the library, with Elle escorting Rachel in and leaving her long enough to inquire at the desk about her book.

"Still not in," she said, returning with a sigh. "It makes me wish I loved those obscure indie authors that my lady likes, rather than the five dollar fiction that I eat up like candy."

"What's it like?" Rachel asked suddenly, once they were back out on the sidewalk and headed towards the shops.

"What's what like?"

"Being… a submissive."

"You know what it's like, don't you?"

When Rachel didn't respond, Elle motioned to a bench off to the side, and moved to sit, Rachel perched awkwardly next to her.

"You can ask whatever you want to know," Elle said kindly. "I'm not afraid to answer anything, and I'm certainly not ashamed."

"I'm not- I wasn't ashamed, either," Rachel said.

The last thing she could ever see herself being was ashamed. At least, not because of that.

And least of all, ashamed of Quinn.

"I tried to break our connection," Elle was saying softly, and Rachel's head jerked up as she stared at her.

"Why?"

"Because we weren't bonded right away, like you and Q- like some people are." Elle's voice was quiet, wounded, as she recounted the story of how she and Jamie had grown up together as best friends, how they were sure they were meant to be together, and how it had never happened while they were teenagers.

"I convinced myself that the best, least painful way for both of us was just to stop talking to her. So that we could move on. I quickly learned it was the most painful thing I could have ever imagined trying."

"It's not the same."

"Oh, I'd never claim it is," Elle said. "I just meant... I think you and I are a lot alike, in many ways. I'd love it if you could see that things—"

"Could work out?" Rachel asked bitterly. "They've worked out just fine up until now." She paused, worrying the hem of yet another one of Quinn's shirts with her fingers. She glanced up.

"What's it like being with your lady?"

Now Elle's face took on a dreamy expression. "Perfect. I don't mean perfect in the sense that nothing goes wrong," she clarified.

"W-what goes wrong?"

Rachel wasn't sure she liked the idea of things going wrong; when things went wrong at home, it always resulted in… what she'd rather not think of.

The silent treatment. Hours with her mother in her bedroom with the door locked. Rachel fixing their meals and sitting at the table next to an empty place. Or not knowing what to expect and hearing the yells as soon as the door opened in the afternoon.

"Relationships like ours aren't easy," Elle explained. "Even though our submissiveness is natural to us, there are still things that can get messed up. Things that I need to learn, to correct. But my lady is wonderful in helping me. And she messes up too sometimes."

"She does?"

"Mmhm," Elle nodded. "There was an instance where I was punished for not completing a chore, because I was sick." Once again her voice was soft, but there was no trace of anger in Elle as she spoke. "My lady thought I was just making excuses, so she punished me then sent me to bed. An hour or so later she heard me being sick, I made a complete mess."

"What happened then?" Rachel asked, barely over a whisper.

"I don't think I've ever been as pampered as I was that night," Elle said with a giggle. "I know it was because my lady mostly felt guilty, but she really did want to show me that she was sorry for not listening to me and reading my emotions and actions. So she cleaned me up, tucked me into bed, and stayed up the whole night making jello and sitting up with me."

"That sounds nice," Rachel said quietly. She was trying not to think of that time Quinn was sick, but she was steadily finding out that keeping memories of her past with Quinn was proving ever more difficult.

"It was," Elle agreed, looking at Rachel sympathetically. "My lady and I have our moments where we forget what we need from each other, and sometimes things can get… hard."

"She doesn't um…" Rachel trailed off.

"What?"

"Hurt you?"

Elle didn't seem insulted, and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as the other girl shook her head. "The spankings don't feel good – unless I want them," she added with a grin, and Rachel felt herself blush furiously.

"And I hate it when my lady thinks the best punishment is for her to leave our house for a few hours and for me to stay there alone with my thoughts. But I love being pulled onto her lap afterwards and held, cuddled, told that she's proud of me. I love knowing that we've argued and made up, that we've come to an understanding about something. And each time we're both stronger for it."

Rachel was silent again, considering Elle's words.

She didn't think she could endure it if Quinn ever ignored her. It would be what she deserved, she knew, since she had ignored Quinn for so long. But the idea of Quinn walking away and leaving her made her sick – and she didn't like how that made her feel.

Rachel also wasn't sure if she could let Quinn… do those other things. What would it be like, she wondered, to be half-naked and draped over Quinn's lap for a spanking? Would Quinn be gentle but firm, or would she be harsh and unyielding?

Rachel didn't think Quinn would ever have it in her to be cruel, but she wasn't exactly inclined to find out, either.

And yet thinking about it, a spanking by Quinn's hands, Rachel's mouth had suddenly gone dry.

Elle was watching her, as if she could almost see the battle going on inside of her companion, and Rachel stood up abruptly.

"We should um, go shopping," she said awkwardly. "I want to get home in time for salad."

Elle only nodded and stood up herself, leading the way from the bench.

"Anything else you'd like to know?" she asked Rachel, who tilted her head, thinking.

"You're a neurologist," she said.

"I am."

"So you know about… people who break the connection?"

"I've heard of the studies."

"Can the… connection come back?"

Rachel didn't want it to. She knew she didn't. She was happy the way things were; she just had to work things out with her mother first.

But she still… wondered.

"There hasn't been enough research into that," Elle said, with a look at Rachel as if she could almost hear what she was thinking.

Which was ridiculous. Rachel had made sure, years ago, that no one would ever again be able to know what she was thinking or feeling.

Even if she wanted someone to.

Which she didn't.

"When people break a connection like that," Elle continued, "I would assume that they want it to be permanent…"

She paused, and Rachel shook her head.

"Please don't ask me," she whispered. "I don't want to be a research project."

"If I asked you, it would be because I want to be your friend, not make you my research project."

"You're Quinn's friend."

"And I can be yours too." Elle stopped and turned to Rachel. "I hope you don't mind an observation; my lady says I'm good at picking up on things."

"Fabulous," Rachel muttered, but nodded.

"You don't have friends," Elle pointed out. "For whatever reason, that's pretty clear. And yeah, I'm Quinn's friend, but there's no reason why I can't be yours too. Being a submissive doesn't mean wrapping your entire life, your entire personality and being, around one person. You're allowed to have friends now, Rachel."

Rachel hung her head, surprised that someone's words, however gentle, could strike her so, almost even worse than a slap to the face. It was tempered in the fact that Elle was a submissive like she wa- like she had been, but it didn't make it that much better.

"You're allowed to have friends, who ask you questions simply because they care about you, and not because they want to make you a study for their next term paper. Which is due next week and I am so late already oh my gosh," Elle groaned, and Rachel laughed in spite of herself.

"And you're allowed to have friends who will point out other things, too."

"What?" Rachel said, a little afraid of the answer.

Elle pointed to a shop window, to the display of a mannequin wearing a green sweater and a plaid skirt. "You would look amazing in that."

Hours later, Rachel and Elle returned to Quinn's apartment with more than a few shopping bags, laughing loudly at a joke that Rachel had actually cracked. It was feeling so much better, she thought to herself, to feel comfortable around this young girl with her light auburn hair and shining eyes that seemed to sparkle even more when she talked about her Dominant.

Rachel smiled at Quinn, seeing her expression of surprise and happiness at her laughter, but the smile faded when Rachel looked to the couch.

"Hi," Jamie said pleasantly, and the wall slammed back up.

Rachel wasn't sure what it was about Quinn's friend that intimidated her. She wasn't light and breezy like Elle in her purple shirt and jeans; she seemed stern and exacting, wearing darker colors, and her eyes looking almost as if they were made of steel. Maybe it was that night at the gallery, where Rachel had been so rattled at seeing Quinn that she hadn't been able to concentrate on her server duties, and dumped an entire glass of champagne on Jamie's shirt.

Jamie had been impeccably sweet at the gallery, dismissing Rachel's profuse apologies with a wave of her hand and an "I didn't like that shirt anyway," but the only thought Rachel had had at that moment was that if she was Jamie's submissive, things would have gone bad, very bad indeed.

But Elle didn't seem to be frightened of her, one bit. "My lady!" she said happily, dropping Rachel's bags on Quinn's bed and moving to Jamie for a kiss. "My book wasn't in still," she pouted, and Jamie laughed, patting her back.

"Poor little girl," she soothed, gently. "Maybe we'll run down to the store and buy it for you."

Elle's eyes widened. "Wait, really? You said we needed to watch our budg—"

"Shh," Jamie said, casting a glance at Quinn. "Quinn and Rachel don't want to hear our money problems, baby. Besides, we can just eat noodles for another week, we'll be fine." She winked at her girl, and Elle giggled.

"Hey," Rachel said softly, taking her place at Quinn's side, smiling gratefully when Quinn actually slipped her arm around her waist. "Am I too late for dinner?"

She was hungry, and hoped she wouldn't have to skip it.

"Of course you're not too late," Quinn said with a reassuring squeeze. "I haven't even gotten started, so you can help if you want."

"I'd like that," Rachel said, genuinely happy. "I just worried that I'd stayed out too long."

"You don't have a curfew here, princess," Quinn said.

"Yeah, Quinn's not your mom, that's for sure."

"Jamie!"

Rachel looked from her to Quinn, at the furious look on Quinn's face. So Quinn had told Jamie some things, she knew. She was suddenly too tired to care.

"I know Quinn's not my mother," Rachel managed to say, not wanting to be rude. "But this is Quinn's apartment and I don't want to be trouble."

"You're not, Rach."

"Quinn's nothing like your mom, Rachel."

"My lady… stop," Elle warned softly, an edge creeping into her voice even though the deference remained.

"I'm not doing anything?" Jamie said, looking confused. "I'm just trying to help Rachel see that she doesn't have to be under that woman's thumb anymore."

"That woman is my mother!" Rachel insisted.

"Well she hasn't done a very good job of it, has she?" Jamie replied. "I mean I don't have any clue what she did to you but who else would've made you so terrified of your own shadow?"

"Jamie…"

"Please shut up," Rachel whispered, almost to herself. "Please."

"I'm not trying to be mean, Quinn, but I hate seeing you in pain and I hate seeing Rachel scared that she's going to be in trouble for being a few minutes late. And it's obvious it's her mother that did it, I mean she's probably the reason the connection got broke—"

"Jamie! Stop it!"

This time, Elle was loud, angry, dropping any deference whatsoever. Her eyes blazed as she regarded her mistress, and whether it was her or Quinn's angry growl or the way Rachel's face had turned white, she seemed appropriately cowed and took a step back from where she had stood up moments earlier.

"Rachel," she tried. "I am so sorry…"

"We need to go," Elle said, disappointment now lacing her tone. "Quinn, we'll call you later?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, watching Rachel, who had pulled away from her and was now looking around the room as if she was searching for an escape.

"Right now I need to take care of Rach—"

"Rachel, I'm sorry…" Jamie seemed devastated, if only from the absolute fury that was emanating from her submissive.

"Don't bother," Rachel said through gritted teeth, shaking. She hugged herself for a second, then her eyes landed on the door.

"Just… don't bother."

She left Quinn's apartment without a glance back, slamming the door behind her.