I'm downstairs. I'm fine. I'll be back soon.

Rachel had hit send on the text message as soon as she'd written it, as soon as her feet had hit the carpet in the common room. Luckily the room was empty and she was alone, and she curled up in one of the armchairs in the corner, wrapping her arms around her legs and burying her forehead in her knees.

Stupid Jamie, she thought to herself. Stupid, nosy, annoying, completely accurate Jamie.

She lifted her head and wiped the tears that had begun to fall, looking around the room. Quinn had told her about all the time she'd spent here since moving to New York. All the time she'd spent talking to Sam.

About her.

"Ruined everything," Rachel muttered to herself.

But she wasn't sure that she believed that anymore.

She was hungry; the telltale sound of her stomach growling told her that much. She wanted to have dinner; Quinn had promised a salad and Rachel was desperate to sit at the counter and watch her, or even to help her. She was steadily realizing that she loved being with Quinn in the "kitchen" of her studio apartment.

Rachel was steadily realizing she just loved being around Quinn.

Her cell phone beeped.

Come back whenever you're ready, princess. Elle and Jamie have gone home.

Always "princess," Rachel thought with a small smile. She knew Quinn was probably angry at her for running off, just like her mother had been. Rachel also knew she'd have to go and face the music sooner or later, but that didn't mean she was in any sort of hurry.

Her stomach was, though, growling again, and she sighed to herself. She unfolded herself from the chair after another fifteen minutes, then made the trek back upstairs to Quinn's apartment.

Quinn's eyes were red-rimmed when Rachel opened the door, and Rachel tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.

"I'm sorry I made you cry…"

"It's all right, I just thought you weren't—"

"Weren't coming back, I know," Rachel finished softly. She looked down at the floor.

"You can yell at me if you want."

"Yell at you?" Quinn said, sounding confused.

"For leaving. For what happened with Jamie."

"I've done my yelling for what happened with Jamie, and it certainly wouldn't have ever been at you."

Rachel looked up at Quinn. "What?"

"I'm not going to yell at you," Quinn reiterated, coming over and placing her hand lightly on Rachel's shoulder. "Jamie got a nice earful from me, though. Rachel, I am so sorry."

Rachel would've shrugged, but she didn't want Quinn's hand to move. "It happens."

"Not here," Quinn said, "not to my – not to you. Not while I'm around."

"No one's gonna harm me, not while you're around," Rachel couldn't help but sing, and she blushed, seeing Quinn's smile light up her face.

"That's exactly right," she said, and squeezed Rachel's shoulder. "Come fix dinner with me."

They made dinner in companionable silence, broken only by Quinn's giggle when she saw Rachel sneaking a piece of chicken, and Rachel's when Quinn stole a tomato. Dinner was quiet, too, as was the rest of the evening, because Quinn needed to study for a test and Rachel didn't like to interrupt her. But she also knew Quinn would probably get too distracted to remember to eat, and Rachel brought her a plate of apples and cheese, two hours in. As she walked away, Quinn caught her hand and held it, meeting her eyes.

Rachel smiled.

But she shook her head when she came out of her shower and saw Quinn making up her bed on the couch.

"Quinn, your back is hurting you."

"It's not so bad," Quinn said, straightening up, but Rachel had seen the wince anyway.

"You're sleeping in your bed," she said firmly. "I'll take the couch."

"You certainly will not," Quinn said, just as firmly. "I'm fine." She moved to place her pillow, a gasp of pain escaping her lips as she bent down.

"Nope," Rachel said, moving to support Quinn as she led her in the direction of the bed. "You're not fine, and I'm not going to have you hurting yourself for my comfort. You are sleeping in your own bed tonight, Quinn Fabray, and that's final."

"I thought I was the dominant," Quinn joked feebly, but sat on the bed. "But all right, I'm hurting too much to argue with you."

"I thought so." Rachel went and retrieved some ibuprofen and water for Quinn, then handed it to her upon her return. She gathered up Quinn's pillows from the couch, bringing them to the bed as well. She went to the side that she'd been using, but a hand on hers stopped her.

"You're not sleeping on the couch," Quinn said again.

"Then I'll sleep on the floor."

"Like hell you will."

"Fine," Rachel sighed, and looked at Quinn. "I'll sleep… in the bed too."

"I won't do anything," Quinn promised.

"I know, Quinn. You'd never."

If it were any other person, Rachel would never trust them. But it was Quinn.

Quinn was different. Quinn had always been different.

Quinn took her own shower and Rachel laid on her back on the bed staring up at the ceiling with her arms folded over her stomach. She absurdly wondered if she looked like the nervous bride about to lose her virginity. The nervousness was only compounded when Quinn came out of the shower with wet hair and a flushed face, smelling of gardenia and soap.

Quinn slipped under the covers with a soft smile to Rachel, and rolled her eyes at Van, who positioned himself between both their heads.

"He never sleeps anywhere but at my feet," she explained. "I guess you really have bewitched him."

Rachel laughed a little, but said nothing.

She could feel the heat radiating off Quinn's skin from the hot shower, and she shivered a little.

"Are you cold?" Quinn rolled over slightly to pull the blankets up on Rachel. "I can turn the heat up if you'd like."

"I'm fine," Rachel said. "I promise."

"Okay…" Quinn sounded doubtful, but she didn't press the issue. "Well… good night, Rachel."

"Good night, Quinn."

There was a moment's hesitation before Quinn reached her bedside lamp, and plunged the room into darkness.

Rachel squinted, still on her back, trying to focus on the ceiling, but she saw nothing, and heard nothing except Quinn's breathing, quiet at her side.

Quinn, strong and steady. Quinn who had loved her, Quinn who loved her still.

She was so close, so…

"His name is Ben," Rachel said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn must have sensed that this was important, because Rachel felt her hand slide over, searching, until it found Rachel's and held fast, between them.

"Ben?"

"My… my dad."

"You've never talked about your dad…"

"I don't know him," Rachel confessed. "He left before I was born."

Quinn's thumb was stroking the skin of Rachel's hand; Rachel gripped harder and Quinn met her measure for measure.

"Keep holding on?" Rachel asked.

"I will, princess."

"I-I used to always wonder what he looked like," Rachel said, knowing she'd be unable to stop the words once they'd started. "Do I have his eyes? His smile? I already know I have mom's nose."

Quinn chuckled and squeezed her hand.

"I like your nose."

"You always say that."

"And I always will."

She spoke in a halting voice then, telling Quinn how she used to look for her father on the street. Little Rachel kept expecting to turn a corner and see him there, or to come home and open the door and he'd be sitting on her couch.

"We'd go to a show," Rachel said wistfully. "We'd go to a show and he'd buy me all the souvenirs I wanted. We'd sit in the front row and then he'd hold me while we waited at stage door because of course I'd be tired but excited. And then when the actors came out he'd set me down and he'd look at the lead actress and say 'This is my daughter, Rachel, she's going to be just like you someday.'"

"So your dad would tell her that you were going to have her job?"

Quinn was teasing and Rachel blushed, but she rolled over so that she was facing Quinn, their hands still joined. She could just make out Quinn's eyes in the moonlight, and she wasn't surprised to see tears.

"Exactly."

"And what would you do after the show?"

Rachel shrugged. "Go home and cook dinner with mom. Or we'd go get her and take her out to dinner so she wouldn't have to worry about cooking and doing the dishes." Rachel fell silent for a moment.

"But none of the men I saw were ever my daddy. And he never came home."

"Why?"

"Because he didn't know I existed."

Rachel heard Quinn gasp, and her hand tightened, almost painfully so, before releasing.

"Why not, princess?"

"When my mom was a little girl," Rachel said, feeling the lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak and breathe, "Her mom told her that someday she'd meet her prince. That he'd love her, and only her, forever and ever. She said that my grandma told her the bond would flow around her like rain. I never understood what that meant, until…"

"Until?" Quinn prompted.

"Until I met you."

"Is your mom a submissive?"

Rachel nodded, then rolled her eyes at herself, because of course Quinn couldn't see. "She's a submissive, yes."

There had been little flashes of it, Rachel had seen; little moments where someone's true nature couldn't help but shine through, as much as you tried to control it, to bury it. As much as you could hate yourself for it, it was always there.

"And then she met Ben?"

Quinn's hand hadn't left hers yet; Rachel clung to it as if it was a life raft. She knew she'd inched closer to Quinn, could tell because she could feel Quinn's breath on her skin, and at some point Quinn had taken her other hand and was now running tentative fingers through her hair. Rachel tilted her head into it.

"She met him when she was 18."

"And then she bonded—"

"No."

"No?"

"Ben and Mom didn't bond."

"Oh."

"But she fell in love with him that first day," Rachel said. "She told me it was like a fairytale. The princess lays eyes on her prince, and that's it for her. Nothing else existed for her but Ben, and how much she wanted to sing."

"Your mom wanted to sing?!" Rachel winced at Quinn's elevated voice, moving to pull away, but Quinn held fast.

"Shh, I'm sorry, it's okay, I'll be more careful. I'm just surprised, Rach."

"My mother's voice is amazing," Rachel said sadly. "The most beautiful voice I think I've ever heard, with a few exceptions, she did have some pitch issues when she was younger. She should have been destined for Broadway, or at the very least a successful recording career. But then…"

"But then she met Ben."

"You should let me finish the story," Rachel said wryly, and Quinn chuckled again; Rachel felt her skin burn when Quinn dared to lightly kiss her forehead.

This burn… this burn she liked.

"Finish your story, Rach."

"Mom met Ben when she was 18. It was love at first sight, she told me. For her, and, she thought, for Ben. But the bond wasn't there, like it wasn't for Elle and Jamie I guess."

"Yeah, it kind of crept up and surprised them when they didn't expect it."

Rachel nodded to herself, her chest hurting as she recounted her mother's, and thus her own, story.

"Mom and Ben thought it would happen for them that way I guess. They were young, they were in love, they were each other's first intimate partners, and that felt so natural for them there was no reason they wouldn't bond. They just thought fate has a peculiar way of working."

"Hey, your mom and I think alike," Quinn said brightly. "Imagine that."

"You're impossible."

"Yes, but you love me."

"Fate does have a peculiar way of working, because right as mom found out that there was going to be the pitter patter of little feet around the house—"

"And there's still the pitter patter of little feet."

"Quinn, now is not the time for a short joke."

"You're right, sorry, go on."

"Right as Mom found out that she was pregnant with me," Rachel continued, loving the fact that Quinn was breaking up the story to comfort her, even if it was with jokes about her height, "Ben bonded."

"Oh wow, that's wonderful, how did your mom feel?"

"Ben bonded with someone else."

"Oh, no."

Rachel sighed and turned onto her back again, but didn't let go of Quinn's hand.

"I never knew her name, I don't think he bothered to tell Mom and I don't think she'd have cared regardless. She was 22 years old, desperately in love, desperate to be bonded to the man she wanted for her Dominant."

"And pregnant."

"Pregnant with his child, and he says that he's sorry, but that he loves someone else. That when she finally meets her true love, she'll understand. He…" Rachel faltered, and took a deep breath, buoyed by yet another squeeze to her hand.

"He broke her heart."

There was silence for a moment, then Quinn said, hesitantly, "Rach… she didn't tell him she was pregnant, did she?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I suppose she felt that he didn't deserve to know."

"You deserved for him to know."

"I didn't know any of this myself for the longest time. But I'd like to think that I'm of somewhat higher intelligence—"

"You are."

"You're rather biased, do you know that?"

"Is it really biased if it's the truth?"

"You're insufferable."

"I am."

"But even as a child we learn to ask questions, even if we don't ask our parents. Why does mommy always look sad? Why doesn't mommy like me to read fairy tales? Why doesn't mommy sing like she used to in those tapes that I found in a box under her bed?"

"You went looking for stuff under her bed?"

"Higher intelligence, needing answers, home alone."

"Ah."

Rachel closed her eyes then, trying to fight the wave of memories as she told Quinn everything, everything she had held back ever since she was six years old, and even more so after she'd broken the connection. How Shelby had occasionally spoken out bitterly against bonding, and was resistant to Rachel even thinking about it. How she'd cried when she'd discovered Rachel had been bonded, and not out of happiness.

"I tried to explain how wonderful I felt," Rachel said mournfully. "I tried to tell her how amazing it was, that this person named Quinn who lived someplace far away wanted me. ME. I-I didn't have any friends, you know, just people who spilled my juice or dumped slushies on me. No one would sit with me at lunch, or want to come home with me for birthday parties or just to listen to Barbra cds. Honestly, who doesn't want to listen to Barbra cds?"

Rachel laughed only a little at her own silliness, especially when Quinn wisely kept quiet.

"She cried when she heard me sing. I didn't understand why she didn't want me to sing, because she seemed to love it so, once, and she could have been so successful…"

"Why do you think she didn't want you to sing? To be bonded?"

Quinn sounded so hurt, so lost; Rachel turned onto her side again and impulsively let go of Quinn's hand, only to wrap her arm around the young woman's waist.

"I'm quite certain it reminded her of everything she wanted but would never be able to achieve, in her mind. I-I confess I did feel rather guilty at having been born, because… if I hadn't, maybe she would've been happy…"

Quinn growled low in her throat. "Don't you ever feel bad about being born, do you understand me? You're beautiful, you're amazing, and you have every right to be here."

"Yes, Quinn," Rachel replied dutifully, then froze. Quinn had noticed it too, because she stiffened in Rachel's embrace just slightly, before relaxing.

"I just… wanted her to be proud of me," Rachel whispered. She was scared to speak any louder, almost as if her mother would pop into the room and yell at her for being up at such a late hour.

"I know she loves me, she does, despite what everyone thinks," Rachel insisted.

"Rachel, princess, I've never doubted for an instant that your mother loves you. I've just been so scared ever since that day. Not knowing what happened or why, if you were taken care of, if you were safe, if you were alive…"

"I didn't want to do it," Rachel burst out, and the tears began to flow, fast and freely.

"Rach…"

"I didn't want to break it," Rachel said, sounding desperate. "But I-I had to, Quinn, I just—"

"You didn't have to." There was bitterness in Quinn's voice, and Rachel began to cry harder.

"I just wanted her to be proud of me. I knew she loved me because I was her daughter and because for so long it was just her and me, and that's the way she wanted it. 'Getting bonded will only break your heart, Rachel,' she kept saying. 'Quinn will love you for a little while, but for how long?'"

"Forever," Quinn snapped. "You let me see her again and I'll tell her how long I'll love you. Until I don't have a breath left in me, that's how long I'll love you, Rachel Berry. And you can't blame me for that."

"I don't!" Rachel cried. "Don't you know that's what I've wanted since I was six years old? Don't you remember what you said to me, that first day?"

"'I think I'm supposed to love you.'"

"And you did, you found me just like you said you would, but I just wanted her to be proud of me. ' A woman doesn't need a bond,' she said. 'You're strong enough without Quinn, you can do whatever you want to without Quinn.'"

"Except sing or be happy, apparently."

"And so I practiced. I'd asked her about it and if you could've seen how happy it made her—"

"Happy that you were going to sacrifice your life for hers? Yeah, I'd like to have seen that."

"So I practiced, and I-I tried to pull away from you but I didn't want to, Quinn, I need you to believe that."

"I do." Quinn's hand was in Rachel's hair again, and if the situation had been different, the motion was so comforting that it would have put Rachel to sleep in five minutes flat.

"I practiced, and I tried to pull away from you, and I kept waiting for my dad – for Ben – to show up and rescue me and my Mom, to show her that all of us could be happy, that it was possible. But my dad never showed up, my Mom was always sad, and I-I just… I did it."

"I remember."

Now Quinn only sounded sad, not angry, and that somehow made Rachel feel worse. She was cognizant of the fact that she was almost on top of Quinn as she cried, but she no longer cared.

"Quinn, it hurt. It hurt so much."

"It hurt me too."

"I don't understand how you don't hate me, why don't you hate me?"

"Because I'm supposed to love you, princess. And I do."

"You shouldn't. I'm not good for you."

"Rach?"

"What?"

Now Quinn was half up on her elbow, looking down at Rachel.

"If you're not good for me and the connection is broken, then why are you here? Why are you telling me all this? Why am I the one you came to when your mom hit you?"

She couldn't do this, Rachel decided. There was no way she could. She needed to get up and get dressed. To go back to her mother and tell her mother that she was right. That being bonded to someone had only brought her pain, would continue to only bring her pain, and that no amount of Barbra songs or Broadway lights or gentle touches to her face, wiping away the tears on her cheeks, could make it worth it.

But she wasn't fourteen years old anymore. She no longer had the strength or resolve after five long years. Instead she was weak, spent, broken against the pillows as she took a long, shuddering breath.

"Because every day for the last five years, whether I've wanted to or not, whether I've actually thought it or not, I've been looking for you. Waiting for you."

"Rachel…"

"I love you, Quinn. I-I still love you, and it's gone, and I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, it's my fault, I'm so sorry…"

In a matter of seconds Rachel was pulled into a pair of strong arms, and held close to a heart, beating steady and sure.

"I've got you," Quinn said in a trembling voice. "Rachel, princess, it's all right, I've got you."

"I want it back," Rachel said, clinging to her. "I want it back so much, I t-tried sometimes and it just wouldn't come back, no matter what I did…"

"Well, now you don't have to do it alone," Quinn whispered, brushing Rachel's hair back from her face as she clutched her tightly. "I'm here now, I told you I'd find you, I'm here, and I'm not letting you go this time."

"I missed you so much," Rachel sniffled, her hand lightly fisted in Quinn's tee-shirt. "I kept telling myself every day that I don't need you, that working at the diner is enough and that my mom really did know what was best for me but I just… I just miss you."

"I missed you too, princess," Quinn said. "You know, I-I kept all of your presents, hoping I could give them back to you someday."

"All of them? I thought it was just the crown."

Rachel felt Quinn shake her head. "All of them. Every birthday, every holiday. Even the ones you didn't celebrate. I have them all."

"Oh." She paused, then buried her face in Quinn's chest with embarrassment.

"Can I have them?"

Quinn laughed, a light, happy sound, and Rachel smiled a little. "Every single one."

"I'm sorry…"

"Shh. No more of that. We start over tonight, if… if you want."

Rachel hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we won't do anything you don't want," Quinn said carefully. "But if you want to stay here, and if we want to try… then we will."

"What if it won't come back?"

"The Rachel Berry I know never dealt in what-ifs."

"I'm a different Rachel Berry."

"Not completely."

"I need you to go slow."

"Like a turtle."

"That's not very romantic."

"I'm better at romance in the mornings."

Rachel pulled back and looked at Quinn. In the moonlight, her eyes were still sparkling with tears, but there was also happiness, a complete, unadulterated happiness that Rachel hadn't seen in a long time, but there was also concern. Concern that she now knew would never vanish from Quinn, that Quinn would always be worried, would always love her.

She hesitated only a second before she fulfilled the one wish that she'd had ever since she was a six year old girl. Rachel leaned forward and pressed her lips against Quinn's. She tasted the mint of toothpaste and the sweetness that was Quinn; she paused and waited with fear running through her veins until, with a small, choked sob, Quinn kissed her back. Years of emotion, both known and not, poured through as the two women wrapped their arms around each other and cried.

In the darkness of a studio apartment in New York City, with their tears mingling together, Rachel Berry kissed Quinn Fabray.

Over, and over, and over.