Author's Note: Hello! Thank you all again for reading and reviewing! Sorry if this chapter seems a little like it's all over the place. It's sort of a transitional chapter. Also, this is the second half of the day Sunday and Monday in Big Bear. Anyway, I'll let you all decide for yourselves!

"Baby!" Santana whined. "You promised you wouldn't do this anymore…" Brittany straddled Santana's hips with her right hand beneath her own underwear. Santana's hands were handcuffed to the bed frame and she bucked her hips feverishly, trying to get any sort of contact.

"Don't call me baby," Brittany groaned out. "If you want anything from me, you will address me as officer," Brittany said, her eyes glinting behind Santana's dark aviators.

"Officer Pierce, I promise I will be on my best behavior from now on. Please, just let me out on parole." Santana squirmed beneath her wife.

"I'm going to need to see that good behavior before I'm comfortable letting those handcuffs off of you, young lady," Brittany said, slowly climbing her way up her wife. "You have been very bad lately…"

Rachel sat at the bar in Quinn's basement. She had tried sitting in the living room for awhile, but no amount of TV could ever drown out the sounds coming from Brittany and Santana. She left after a particularly loud Santana had groaned what she was fairly certain was "Officer Pierce" and found her mind immediately riddled with highly disturbing visuals. She went in the kitchen, but she hadn't had an appetite all day. That left the basement where she was fairly certain she would be left alone. She had become more accustomed to drinking since spending so much time with Quinn. As she walked around the bar to see what was hiding behind it, she mentally added this fact to the growing list of unhealthy habits Quinn Fabray-Scott had introduced into her life. She picked up a book that was hidden between the many bottles, "The Craft of the Cocktail". She smirked. Maybe she could have some fun with this…she had always wanted to be a better mixologist—it was on a long list of skills she thought that a successful single diva should have, the ability to craft the perfect cocktail when you have the attractive, successful producer over to dinner. If she used small cups, it wouldn't be a problem, right? Step one: the perfect, fractional sized, Martini.

Quinn walked down to the dock and untied the sailboat, climbing in. She sailed until she was about twenty minutes away from the dock and then dropped anchor, allowing the small boat to just bob back and forth with the current. She picked up her phone.

"Hey, Franny."

"Well, hello, Quinn. We were wondering when you were going to take the time to call your children."

"I've been gone a day," Quinn said, rolling her eyes underneath her dark sunglasses. "Just because you don't know how to leave the house anymore doesn't mean that I am not allowed to have a weekend to myself."

"You're a parent, Quinn. Don't you know that there is no yourself, anymore? That's your problem, you know? You've always been selfish, ever since you were a little girl."

"You know what, Franny, I didn't call to get another lecture from you. I want to check up on my kids, so if you please could get them for me so I can make sure you haven't brainwashed them already with crazy ideas about me, or lesbians, or Mexican people, I'd really appreciate it." She could hear her sister yell for her children.

"MOM!" Hannah was the first to come on the line.

"Hi, baby," Quinn said, always comforted hearing her daughters' voices. "How are you?"

"Terrible. I hate it here, and I hate Aunt Fran, and I miss you, and I miss Rachel" Quinn cringed at Rachel's name, "and she keeps making Lily cry. Quinn heard a click on the phone.

"Mommy, please come home," Lily said. Apparently Lily had picked up another phone in the house. "Hi, Lily. What's wrong?" Quinn briefly wondered if it was selfish to leave her kids with her crazy sister for three days. Lily was clearly fighting back tears.

"She won't let me skateboard, and when I told her to 'back up off my ride now, afores I have to show you how we do in Beverly Heights,' she sent me upstairs and she won't let me wear any of my clothes, she's making me wear all of Emily's old clothes, and she says Aunt S and Aunt B are a bad influence on me, and that if I keep spending time with them I'd end up like them and have to go to hell, which the guy at church today made sound really really scary and I miss you, mommy. Please come home." Lily burst out in tears.

"Baby, I promise you, you are not going to hell," Quinn said, trying her best to maintain her comforting voice, while silently seething at her sister. "You are perfect, and wonderful, and there is no way God will look at your beautiful face and send you to hell, even if you tell him to back on up," Quinn said, giggling. Her daughter giggled too.

"Okay," she said, sniffling, but at least no longer actively crying.

"I love you so much, baby. Your Aunt S and Aunt B love you so much too. And it doesn't matter to anyone if you end up like them, okay?"

"Okay. But mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't understand what that means…what's wrong with Aunt B and Aunt S?"

"Nothing's wrong with them, baby. Aunt Franny is just a little crazy."

"She probably just doesn't want me to be as pretty as Aunt B and Aunt S, right?" Quinn began to laugh through the tears she had been holding back listening to her daughter cry.

"You're already as pretty as them. I promise, we will be back tomorrow, and you won't ever have to stay at Aunt Franny's ever again, okay?"

"Okay," Lily whimpered out.

"Where is Harper?" Quinn asked.

"Napping," Hannah said.

"Well, can you tell her I love her and I miss her and I can't wait to see her tomorrow?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah," Hannah said.

"Okay, Lily, can I have a word alone with Hannah?"

"Okay," Lily replied meekly.

"I miss you so much, and don't listen to anything Aunt Franny says from now on? Promise me?"

"I promise."

"And if it gets too hard, just practice Aunt S's lines in your head." Quinn couldn't believe she was saying it, but anything to get her little girl through the next two days.

"Okay," Lily said, starting to giggle a little.

"And if it gets any harder, you have my phone number and you know you can call me, anytime, right?"

"Okay, mommy. I miss you."

"I miss you too, sweetheart. See you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too." She heard the phone click.

"Hannah?"

"Yeah, mom?"

"Can you watch out for your little sisters for me?"

"I'm trying, but I think Aunt Franny's crazy, mom."

"I know she is."

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Aunt Franny means that Lily will go to hell if she ends up like Aunt B and Aunt S because they're gay?" Quinn's heart dropped to her stomach like a rock at this realization from her daughter. "Because grandma and grandpa say the same thing, and I once heard them talking about why you still spent time with those lesbians when you had made such a nice life for yourself. And lesbian is a gay lady, right?" Quinn had no idea what to say to her daughter as she heard her voice trail off.

"Yes, lesbian is a gay lady." Quinn said. "And yes, your Aunt B and Aunt S are gay." She didn't think it was necessary to go into the particulars of Brittany's bisexuality to her 8 year old at this point.

"Well, I know that, mom, I'm like 8. They're like married and in love and stuff."

"Okay. So, I'm just going to assume you also know that there is nothing wrong, or different, or bad about being gay."

"I figured. I mean, my friend Julie has two moms, and Uncle Kurt is gay, right? And Aunt B and Aunt S make each other super happy, especially when they do it, and they, like, seem happier than any other parents I know. They're, like, way happier than you and dad, and why should being happy send you to hell?"

"You're way too smart for your age," Quinn said, choking back the knot that had formed in her throat."

"I know," Hannah said. Quinn smiled.

"Just do your best taking care of them, okay? If anything comes up call me, and when I get back tomorrow we can do movie night, your choice movie and your choice pizza, and we can have a sleepover in my room."

"Really?" She could hear her daughter's eyes light up. "But it's a school night."

"Well, it's your reward for putting up with a hard weekend, and being such a good big sister."

"Thanks, mom."

"You're welcome. Remember to tell Harper I love her."

"I will."

"I love you, Hannah."

"Love you too, mom."

"Can you put Aunt Franny back on?"

"Okay. Bye, mom!"

"Hello?" Franny said.

"Franny. I swear to god. Get Lily out of whatever god awful pink mess you made your daughter wear when she was her age and let her wear her own clothes. She's a crying wreck. All I ask is that you not badmouth my life to my children, and not badmouth the family that has actually been there for them all their lives, for the next 24 hours and then you won't ever have to worry about babysitting again." Quinn hung up before she could hear the response.

Brittany gently kissed the red marks on Santana's wrists, as Santana let out a contented sigh.

"I didn't let it go too long?" Brittany asked. Santana just shook her head, and then turned to bury her nose in Brittany's blond hair.

"You're sweaty." Santana said, simply.
"You're sweaty too," Brittany said.

"Maybe we should take a shower?" Santana smirked into Brittany's hair.

"That's the second best idea you've had all day. Right after taking a nap," Brittany said, clamoring out of bed naked and rushing toward the bathroom door. Santana admired her wife's body. "You coming?" Brittany asked.

"I have a feeling I will be soon," Santana said, sauntering toward the bathroom.

Rachel could live without Martini's. They weren't terrible…but they also weren't the most delicious thing she had tasted before. Manhattans—now, they were terrible. She had to dump half of it down the sink. She was now nursing a miniature Cosmopolitan which may have been the best thing to happen to her. Pink, a little sweet and a little tart. She took another delicious sip. She wondered how many times she had been down this path before—deluding herself into believing someone had legitimate feelings for her, when really they were using her to get something. Finn, Jesse St. James, her first college boyfriend, Laura from A Chorus Line…the list could go on forever. And now Quinn to deal with her loneliness. Like every time before this one, she had a thousand reasons glaring her in the face as to why she should remove herself from the situation before she was hurt, yet again. Quinn was straight, married, lived in a mansion in Beverly Hills with her three children. Quinn had not expressed any desire to change that, or even a desire to date her. She only expressed a desire to continue…to continue what? To continue spending time together and occasionally hooking up drunkenly. If Quinn enjoyed it, wouldn't that make her not straight? And Quinn's marriage was definitely on the rocks. She kicked herself for rationalizing Quinn's behavior. Although, Quinn was right what did she have to lose? Her head was starting to hurt from all the sugar in the cosmopolitan…she flipped through the book to a random page. Lemon Drop!

Quinn laid back on the boat, allowing the late afternoon sun to waft over her. All of her actions of the day had been a bit of a haze for her—she couldn't remember the last time she had felt such a range of conflicting emotions in such a short period of time. She had been so angry when she woke up, and then so complacent with Rachel earlier, and now she felt so…lost again. It was a feeling she was beginning to become accustomed to. That sense that she was meandering through her life with no direction as to where she was headed. She groaned out loud, alone on her boat. Had she really just propositioned Rachel that they just roll with the punches? It sounded like something Puck would have said when they were sixteen years old. The truth was, Quinn didn't know what she wanted to do, and it was better to roll with the punches than be forced to make a decision. She closed her eyes and thought of her daughter, crying, alone in her sister's house. She couldn't really hate her sister—their parents had fucked both of them up. Quinn was sixteen before anyone ever told her that it was okay to be herself, no matter what. By then, it was too little, too late. How could she expect her sister to behave any differently. At least Lily was young and hopefully wouldn't remember the cruel thoughts her sister had about her at such a young age. Quinn opened her eyes as realization dawned on her. She had cheated on her husband. It wasn't some obscure, hard to define feeling she'd been dealing with for the last few months. It was an action, cemented in the world. She had sex with someone other than her husband. She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. She felt like such a hypocrite—she was so disgusted with her sister for the cruel things she said about Brittany and Santana and Lily, yet the fact that the person she had cheated on his with was a woman was something she wasn't able to acknowledge yet.

Santana leaned back against Brittany in their post shower bath.

"That was the best idea of the day, San," Brittany said. "Definitely better than our nap." Brittany waited for a response, and frowned a little at the silence of the brunette in front of her. She leaned her head down so she could see Santana's face. She was asleep, a small smirk curled on the edges of her lips. Brittany nudged her gently.

"Hm?" Santana asked, her voice groggy.

"My fingers are getting wrinkly. Let's get up and make dinner."

"Okay," Santana said, still not moving.

"Sa-an," Brittany whined.

"Okay, okay, I'm up. Let's go make dinner." They climbed out of the bathtub.

"What have you been doing all afternoon?" Santana asked as Quinn entered the kitchen.

"I went out on the boat. You know, to clear my head. I called my kids." Quinn said.

"How are the little devils doing?" Santana asked. "I pray that Lily has given your bitch sister at least six black eyes by now. Or perhaps distributed her black eyes to your bitch sister's bitch children."

"It's not good," Quinn said. "Franny is making Lily wear those grotesque pepto-bismol colored dresses she put her kids in when they were little and she took away her skateboard." Quinn paused, wondering whether or not it was appropriate to include the next part. "Anyway, Lily was crying, because Franny took her to church and told her that she should stop spending time with you two, otherwise she would end up like you and go to hell." Brittany and Santana stopped paying attention to their cooking. "Lily didn't know what Franny was talking about, thankfully. You'll appreciate this, San. She asked if Franny was worried that she would end up as pretty as you two." Santana smiled, but it was clear her smile was filled with a sense of sadness and nostalgia.

"Well, we're going to be finished with dinner in about twenty," Santana said softly.

"Okay. I'm going to take a quick shower then. Where's Rachel?" Quinn asked. Santana shrugged.

"We assumed she was with you." Brittany said. Quinn shook her head and silently walked to her room. Santana checked on the vegetable and soyrizo Paella. She felt Brittany slide behind her and slip her arms around her waist. Brittany kissed her cheek.

"We're not there anymore, San," she said.

"I know," Santana said, softly, leaning into her wife's arms. "It still makes me sad though. Will you go find Berry?"

"Of course," Brittany said.

Brittany finally found Rachel leaning against the bar in Quinn's basement.

"Rachel," she said softly, taking in the sight of her friend slowly sipping on a bright blue cocktail.

"Hey, Britt." Rachel said.

"Are you drinking?" Brittany said, the hint of concern barely discernable in her usual deadpan tone.

"I'm learning how to make mini-drinks so I can server them to all the producers whom are sure to come wooing me after they see my star turn in Spring Awakening."

"You shouldn't be drinking by yourself, Rach," Brittany said.

"Why the fuck not?" Rachel spat back. Brittany took a step back, she wasn't used to her friend speaking to her like that. In fact, she wasn't used to Rachel speaking like that to anyone. "Everyone else around here gets to do whatever the fuck they want to, well, I'm going to join in on the fun too. A life with no consequences, right? Well, then, I'm going to day drink, because fuck everything else." Rachel drank the remainder of her blue drink in one gulp. The two women stood in silence; Rachel stared vacantly into the distance, and Brittany stared at her friend with concern.

"Is this about Quinn?" Brittany finally asked, cautiously.

"No," Rachel said.

"Well, do you want me to get you into bed before she sees you like this?" For the first time in the conversation, Rachel looked up at Brittany. She immediately felt bad for the words she had said to her friend. Brittany didn't deserve her displaced anger. Brittany had never been anything but kind and understanding to Rachel. In fact, Brittany had never been anything but kind and understanding to anyone. Looking into those blue eyes wavering with worry, Rachel began to somewhat understand why Santana could never say no to her.

"Thanks, Brittany." Rachel said, stumbling off of her bar stool. Brittany led her upstairs. Rachel didn't want to look at Santana as they passed the kitchen, but she could feel Brittany and Santana make the briefest of eye contact. Brittany helped Rachel take her clothes off and tucked her in.

"Brittany?" Rachel called as Brittany shut the light to the room.

"Yeah?" Brittany said softly.

"Thanks."

"Of course," Brittany said.

"Where's Rachel?" Quinn asked as they brought dinner out to the table.

"She went to bed," Brittany said quickly.

"Is she okay?" Quinn asked. Santana opened her mouth to respond, but Brittany cut her off before she got the chance.

"She's fine. Just tired." Santana looked at Brittany questioningly but decided not to push it. The three women sat down to dinner and talked about their plans once they returned to LA.

Brittany sat in front of the mirror in the bedroom that had been temporarily theirs for the last few nights. Santana stood above her, playing with her hair. Brittany looked up into the mirror, catching Santana gazing at Brittany's reflection. A soft smile played on Santana's lips.

"You're beautiful, Brittany." Santana said, simply.

"Not as beautiful as you," Brittany replied, catching her wife's reflection in the mirror. Santana placed a soft kiss on Brittany's head. "I know that look, San."

"What look?"

"That…I need to talk about my feelings and have no idea how I'm supposed to go about it look." Brittany said. Santana lay herself onto the bed.

"You know me too well."
"It's only taken 15 years," Brittany smirked.

"I don't know…Quinn is just making me so…so…sad." Santana struggled out. "And hearing her say those things that Lily heard…it just brings me back, you know?" Brittany nodded.

"You can't let it get to you, honey."

"I know. It's just knowing that Quinn is scared, and knowing that Lily may one day be scared, forces me to remember when I was scared…and you know Santana Lopez doesn't do scared." Brittany smiled.

"Santana Pierce-Lopez."

"Well, she definitely never gets scared." Brittany turned and kissed Santana's cheek. "Definitely never nearly as scared as Santana just Lopez got."

"I can make the scared go away," Brittany whispered in Santana's ear, "if you let me." Santana turned so her lips barely grazed Brittany's.

"I will always let you." Santana pulled her wife in for a kiss.

Quinn changed into her pajamas in her room, wondering whether she should sleep on the couch, or just crawl into bed next to Rachel. It was her bed after all, and Rachel was already dead asleep, Quinn could smell the alcohol and she was a good five feet away from the girl, so it wasn't like anything could happen between them. Quinn crawled into bed and fell asleep.

Rachel groaned, blinking out the morning light.

"Hey," Quinn said softly. Rachel allowed her eyes to focus on Quinn's hazel ones.

"You know, it's creepy to watch someone sleeping." Rachel croaked out.

"I just wanted to make sure you were still breathing, ya lush," Quinn replied, a glimmer in her eyes. "I also wanted to tell you," Quinn paused, taking in a deep breath, "that I did a lot of thinking yesterday, and you are right. We should talk about what's going on."

"Well, I did a lot of thinking yesterday too, Quinn, and I think you were right. There's no point in talking about it. A talk will either result in a broken heart or delusions that you will break up your perfect life for one with me. Both of which are paths I've been on before and I don't care to go down again. Sometimes it's better to just let sleeping dogs lie."

"The only problem with that idiom, Rach, is that this dog is very much awake and barking." The two shared a heavy silence before Quinn got up and walked into the bathroom without a word.

The drive back to LA was almost entirely silent, with the exception of Brittany occasionally talking Santana into playing I Spy, until Rachel would stop them, frustrated. Rachel wasn't even sure you could call it I Spy…

"I spy something brown!" Brittany said.

"My eyes." Santana said.

"Yay! Okay, I spy something green."

"The highway signs." Santana replied, emotionless. Every twenty minutes or so it would start up again. Rachel assumed that this would bother Santana, but Santana didn't even seem aware that they were playing the game.

"Do they go on roadtrips a lot or something?" Rachel asked. Quinn shrugged.

"We went to Vegas and Mexico a lot in college…"

"Thank god we're home!" Santana said as Brittany and Santana walked into Rita's house. "Where are my babies?" Rita led them toward the kitchen where her teenage children were playing with the twins. Santana immediately grabbed Olivia and nuzzled into her head. "I missed you so much, you know that? Mami is never leaving again." She kissed the top of Nico's head, who was now in Brittany's arms. They took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Rough weekend?"

"It had its ups and downs." Santana replied.

"What happened?" Rita asked.

"Do you remember that summer San and I stayed here?" Brittany asked.

"Obviously."

"Well, the ups were the parts of the summer after we started dating…"Santana said.

"Well, I'm glad to see that having children hasn't dimmed the romantic spark in your relationship…" Rita said, cautiously, not wanting to unintentionally set up her niece's wife for one of her notorious overshares.

"And the downs were the parts of the summer before we started dating."

"I'm not sure I'm following you…"

"Rachel and Quinn. They're like…like…winning the gay angst trifecta or something…" Rita raised an eyebrow at Brittany and then at Santana.

"She's really been pushing to go to the Santa Anita race tracks. She's learning how to bet." Santana said.

"It's just so much awesome, San. Horses? Awesome. Gambling? Awesome. Cheap beer? Awesome. So much awesome." Santana rolled her eyes.

"Baby, do you not remember the last time we went to Vegas?"

"No, not really."

"Do you remember where the money you made working on that Willow Smith video went?" Brittany blushed.

"Oh, yeah."

"Anyway…" Rita interjected, more than used to these tangents. "Back to your weekend?"

"Seriously, Britt is right, racetrack metaphor aside. It was like watching High Art, the Children's Hour, and the Hours rolled into one. If you threw in an annoying Jennifer Schechter into the mix."

"Terrible." Brittany said.

"I'm confused." Rita said. "Isn't Quinn married? And since when is Rachel gay?"

"She's bisexual," Brittany said.

"And yes, Quinn is married. Precisely the reason for the angst."

"Well I'm sorry you guys had to deal with that." Santana shrugged.

"All that time alone with Britt made up for it." She smiled over at her wife. "Anyway, we should get going. I can't thank you enough for babysitting, I really appreciate it."

"Anytime, Peep, anytime."

Quinn pulled up in front of Rachel's apartment. She shut the engine to the car.

"I really think that we should talk, Rach. I'm sorry I blew you off yesterday, but I was just so confused."

"You know what, Quinn? You've been in the same relationship for twelve years. You have no idea about relationships being confusing. They don't change that much from high school, only the stakes are higher. I've spent years navigating my way through failed relationships, broken hearts, and broken egos. Every time I can feel the skin on my back growing a little thicker, the shell around my heart getting a little tougher to break through. I've come to the conclusion that the delicate balance between the heart and the head is a myth reserved for fairytales and that there is no right answer. I've been broken too many times to believe otherwise."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're saying," Quinn said as Rachel got her bag out of the trunk and walked to the driver's side of the car.

"I'm saying, that I'm not going to talk about this and put my feeling out there to get squashed on. I don't…no I can't care anymore about what everything means and what everyone feels and the consequences of every single action I make. It's too much…and I'm tired, and I'm lonely, and…" Rachel stood on her tiptoes and leaned into Quinn's passenger side window, catching her lips in a hard, fiery kiss. Quinn didn't move out of shock. She also didn't pull away. Rachel leaned back on her heels. "I'm just going to roll with the punches." Rachel said. She picked up her bag and walked toward her apartment, leaving a shocked Quinn sitting in her car.