Hello, thank you for all your thoughts and encouragement on the story! At the moment, my job is actually having the audacity to require me to work, so I've slowed up a bit by necessity. Thanks for staying with me :)

Santana is probably in trouble, at work. Luckily for her, she doesn't give two shits about that place.

Instead of heading back to NY, she'd made a snap decision to go home for a few days. Lima felt old, somehow, from a different time, but her mom is still her mom, and Santana's a bit exhausted by the relentless fending for herself that adulthood seems to involve.

But it has been kind of boring, these past few days. She doesn't enjoy the sensation of being stuck.

She'd gotten back to her apartment, re-arranged her bedding, because despite Quinn being the neatest person alive, she had seemingly stepped out of Santana's bed and not looked back to tidy, and then, sparked into action, embarked on the mother of all spring cleans.

She actually moved furniture, and vacuumed behind it. She feels this alone deserves wider recognition than it receives. Possibly on a global scale.

Santana is elbow deep in the cupboard under the sink, throwing out countless cleaning products that only seem to have a teaspoon's worth of liquid left in each, when she hears the front door open. She rocks back on her heels, and calls out a greeting.

It's Lydia, and Santana raises a bleach bottle in greeting.

'Hey… do any of these belong to you? I'm thinking of throwing them all out.'

Lydia steps past her, and dumped her bag on the counter.

'Go for it… what's with the clean? You know your friend came last weekend, right?'

Santana shrugs, and returns to her stock check.

'Yeah… I just wanted the kitchen to not smell so odd. Don't complain.'

There's the noise of Lydia opening the fridge, and rearranging some jars, and then she's off again.

'I thought you and Quinn were hooking up, did you get your dates wrong or something?'

'Huh? No; Quinn doesn't do sex, or, I don't know, human emotions. She's just a friend, she needed a place to sleep, and I wasn't in the city, so it made sense.'

Santana stands up at this point, ignoring the protest from her knees, and starts ferrying the bleach bottles into the recycling bin. Lydia leans over to help.

'Oh, I guess I just thought…wow, she comes a lot then, for a friend, no?'

Santana shrugs.

'I guess. She knows other people in the city, it isn't just me that she visits. There's, you know, Rachel, and… well, I guess it's mainly Rachel. And me, obviously. I'm the important one.'

Lydia nods vaguely, and flaps a hand.

'Obviously. So, do you go and visit her, then, or…'

'Nah, not much, New Haven's a bit of a nowhere, honestly. And I'm busy. Rachel goes quite often, I think.'

Lydia snorts, after a second.

'Sure, and you are definitely the important one, in this?'

Santana frowns at her, because what is Lydia even talking about here…wait a second.

Wait one goddamn second.

…

Kurt receives an inexplicable message from Santana one idle Sunday morning, as he contemplates creating oatmeal. He's always felt that eating oatmeal was somewhat of a noble undertaking, done not for enjoyment, but in order to feel superior to the poor souls who had not eaten oatmeal for breakfast.

Thankfully, Santana's message reaches him as he is shying away from the harsh realities of what oatmeal involves, and he flicks on the coffee machine in relief, before sitting at the table.

Truth: Is Quinn better friends with Rachel than me? Not that this is still high school, but I'm not a natural number two, okay? Your thoughts, Kurt.

One day, Kurt hopes to become embroiled in an overblown, hyper dramatic love affair that is so wide reaching it consumes all of Rachel's free time, just so she can appreciate what Kurt is currently living through.

He screws up his face, and tries to figure out if Santana knows about the Faberry conundrum.

Quinn will not have told her. Rachel says she hasn't spoken to Santana. Quinn… may have spoken to Brittany. If Kurt needed to speak to someone about feelings, and the choice was between Santana and Brittany, he knows where he'd go. If Brittany knows, she may have told Santana… but then Santana wouldn't allude to it vaguely by text. She'd be here, kicking Kurt's door down, demanding to know why she wasn't clued in earlier.

Quinn would probably, if speaking to anyone, have kept it to her New Haven friends. Possibly that Ashleigh monstrosity.

Santana doesn't know. Okay.

Good morning to you too. I would say that you are different sorts of friends.

That much is true. Santana and Quinn's friendship doesn't involve making out and doing unspeakable things to each other on Kurt's couch. At least, he hopes not. Oh god, that really would be the end of his sanity.

Because I'm the funny cool one?

Kurt nods to himself, because sure, why not?

Exactly. Are you back in Brooklyn? We should do lunch, no?

While he waits for Santana's response, Kurt finds his eye drawn to the box, sat by their front door.

The Brody box.

Rachel had come home from her date with Brody, with red eyes. It had been all Kurt had needed to understand, but he was feeling slightly bruised from their previous encounter, so had sat at the kitchen table, and stared resolutely at his Macbook screen, determined to not be the one to speak first.

With quick, staccato steps, Rachel had disappeared into her room, only to emerge ten minutes later with a box in her arms. There was an arm of one of Brody's sweaters hanging over the edge. Rachel placed the box carefully by the door, and then turned to Kurt, hands on her hips.

'Regardless of whether you approve for the direction my life is taking, at some point in the next few days, Brody will contact you in order to arrange a time when he can come pick up his belongings. If you could help him with that I would appreciate it, and Kurt, even though I've been terrible to him, at least I'm done being terrible now, whereas any alternative solution would have resulted in extended terribleness, and I'm not supposed to be a nasty person, this isn't how…'

Her voice had wobbled all over the place for the final sentence, and Kurt had stood up, and held out his arms to her. Because they're both terrible people, in their own way.

Rachel had cried for a while, as Kurt had stroked her hair and murmured a couple of apologies. Eventually he had asked, softly, 'Why are you so upset, Rachel? This is what you had decided to do.'

Rachel nodded in his arms, and then untangled herself, wiping away tears with her hands.

'I'm upset because I've hurt Brody, I, he… he's really sad.'

It was a break, ultimately, that Rachel had agreed to. From what Kurt can translate, in Rachel's mind it was a break that was going to last forever.

The message from Santana pulls him out of his contemplation.

Maybe dinner tomorrow? I'm in the shit at work, I should probably actually turn up today.

Kurt texts back his confirmation, and slices a bagel.

…

It's been three days, since she had dinner with Brody.

This is the thought that she wakes up with every day. As though the cumulative total is somehow important.

Rachel stretches, attempting to wake up her joints, and rolls onto her side to check her phone.

Nothing. Rachel doesn't know why she continues to expect, because Quinn had told her not to contact her, and then pretty much just fled the zip code to get away from her, so cute early morning texts would seem to be off the table.

Rachel wonders, sometimes, if they had just managed to avoid having sex, if she'd just managed to screw up her nerve to the point where dumping Brody became the obvious thing to do, which it should have been, weeks ago, whether her and Quinn would be dating, now.

Dating. Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry.

It sounds ludicrous, bordering on the impossible. Rachel cannot even imagine Santana's face in response.

She can imagine waking up with Quinn. She can imagine making out with Quinn in dark corners of parties, and holding hands furtively in taxis, and pretending to be just friends when she goes to visit New Haven, and borrowing one of Quinn's t-shirts because she's conveniently forgotten all of hers.

She can't imagine Quinn saying 'oh, and this is Rachel. My girlfriend.'

Kurt spent much of the time before her arranged break up date with Brody reminding Rachel that Quinn doesn't do relationships. According to Kurt, McKinley Quinn did cheating, affairs, short lived acceptance of devotion, schemes, plots, and flirtation deployed as a weapon. And Yale Quinn either does celibacy, or incredibly secret flings, of which Rachel could be one of many.

And Rachel had never once mentioned Quinn's name, when she was talking about leaving Brody. Because she wasn't leaving Brody because of Quinn. She was leaving because of, well, herself, really.

Sometimes the phrase it's not you, it's me is the only appropriate thing, regardless of the cliché attached.

She could ignore all of Kurt's anti Quinn propaganda, at the time, because leaving Brody was the right thing to do, she could mentally compartmentalise all the blather coming out of Kurt's mouth, because Quinn wasn't the point.

Now that Rachel's got time, however, it keeps rearing its head.

Sometimes, when she reviews her encounters with Quinn in McKinley, it feels a great deal like…not flirtation, but certainly something more intense than friendship. Particularly because they weren't even friends for much of it, for reasons lost on Rachel.

She nearly messages Quinn at that point with a bald why weren't we friends in high school, but decides that it is unlikely to get a response. Besides, Rachel isn't supposed to be contacting her.

She's single now. She's allowed to spend all her time thinking about Quinn.

It doesn't stop her feeling guilty though.

…

Kurt is at the breakfast table, playing idly with his phone and eating the remains of a bagel. Rachel perches on the chair and rubs at her eyes, trying to wake up.

'Why do you think Quinn and I weren't friends in high school?'

Kurt's eyebrows raise slightly, and Rachel thinks this might be the first time she's allowed herself to introduce Quinn as a topic of conversation.

'You mean asides from her relentless bullying campaign and you stealing her boyfriend? Can't imagine.'

Rachel scrunches her nose up, because Kurt is being singularly unhelpful at the moment, she should have remembered.

'Kurt, can you just, leave it now, please? You liked Quinn before all this, remember?'

After a moment, Kurt sighs, and puts his phone down carefully on the table top. He smiles apologetically at her.

'I know. And I still do. I just… her track record is…'

'Nothing to do with any of this. Look, I understand you think you're being protective but this really isn't helping right now.'

Kurt eyes her in silence for a while, until Rachel fidgets under his gaze, aware of the blush building on her cheeks.

'You really like her, don't you? Even though she has nothing to do with you leaving Brody, of course… you really like her?'

When she can meet his eye again, there's another smile, understanding this time. Rachel bites at her lip, and looks down at her fingers.

'Yes, you… ass. This Quinn bashing is not okay. I'm probably beyond rationality, at this point.'

Kurt lifts himself from his seat, and circles the table to come kiss her on the forehead, with a quick squeeze to her shoulder.

'And all my hard work for nothing, huh? You'd be beautiful together, the pair of you. Just don't let her hurt you.'

Rachel shrugs, and pokes at him until he moves away.

'I've probably hurt her more, so far. Go put an arm around her shoulders.'

Kurt scoffs slightly at her, and moves away, reaching for his jacket by the door.

'I'd lose an arm if I tried that…joking, Rachel, don't look at me like that… we'll have a pow wow tonight, shall we? Over hot chocolate. Decide your next move in the task of seducing Quinn Fabray.'

A memory wells up within her that she really doesn't need to be dealing with at this early stage of the day, and Rachel bites her lip.

'The seduction side thus far hasn't appeared to be the problem…'

Kurt holds up a hand, mock horror on his face.

'Please stop, Rachel. I will not be discussing that, ever. I'll see you later tonight, okay? No more Quinn bashing, I swear.'

Rachel waves him off with a half smile, and traipses back into her room with a banana from the fridge. She checks her phone again, because she enjoys pain, and sits on her bed, checking her diary.

This is her first day free in a week. Day free from auditions, or NYADA seminars on how not to be a failure, or some hideous combination of the two.

Her schedule has been ratcheting up, this past month, but her eye has not been on the ball and she's been blowing auditions left right and center. Rachel's becoming an old hand at asking for constructive criticism without allowing her smile to flicker even slightly.

Brody hadn't got a job by now. She's fine.

The panel always ask for a little more, or a little less, as if they can sense how off balance Rachel has been feeling. Rachel's worried that this is what failing feels like, maybe.

Rachel reaches for her phone, and toys with it, absent-mindedly.

Part of her just wants to message Quinn and say I've left Brody. Can I come visit? But she doesn't, just because she isn't sure she can deal with another rejection.

Her free hand finds the programs that Quinn gave her, at Brittany's party a lifetime ago, at the back of her planner. She hasn't signed them, because she feels like that could be jinxing things, somehow.

She runs her fingers down the spine instead, and remembers.

…

Quinn is not panicking about the exam. She'll be okay. She has never screwed up an exam in her life, including a batch she had to take while she was in a goddamn wheelchair.

In terms of distraction levels, one ill advised hook up with a friend cannot possibly be on the same scale as getting hit by a truck.

She's studying hard. The words are not blurring underneath her eyes. Her train of thought is entirely intact. There are no distractions.

She's got…seventeen hours until the exam starts.

Rachel hasn't contacted her once.

Santana has contacted her five times since this morning. She's hidden her phone under her pillow to avoid the distraction. She considered giving it to Ashleigh to look after, but then remembered that Ashleigh is Ashleigh, and that would never be a good idea.

There's a knock on her door, and Quinn grunts a greeting. It eases open after a moment.

It's Ashleigh.

'I come in peace! With toast. Which is in pieces, appropriately. For you.'

Quinn leans away from her table, and smiles, shoving a slice into her mouth.

'Thanks mom.'

Ashleigh perches on the edge of Quinn's bed, and picks up a slice herself.

'How's it going? Any words you don't understand?'

Quinn snorts at her, and flicks a pen lid at her head.

'No, thank you. You can go now, you'll just distract me otherwise. Leave the toast.'

Ashleigh flicks the pen lid back, and takes another slice as she stands.

'Entertain is not the same as distract, FYI. Also, Santana, you know, the one who is your friend, has been blowing up my phone. Can you start speaking to your friends, please? Or stop being so popular?'

Quinn rolls her eyes at her, and turns back to her notes.

'Not sure popular is the word, Ash. Can you let her know I'm studying, phone is off, okay? Thanks.'

…

Santana hates her job. When she leaves, she's going to hand in her resignation and flip a couple of tables on the way out.

Brittany was saying that the dance company that she works for is hiring. Not people to do the actual dancing, but people to promote it and organise things. Brittany announced all this as Santana was boarding the plan, with the thought that Santana would be good, and Brittany could put in a word.

Santana would like the record to show that she can dance just as well as nearly all of Brittany's co-workers, but the concept of telling those muppets what to do is appealing, ultimately. Plus, she could make sure that Brittany's teaching schedule suits her plans with pin point accuracy.

It is… certainly an option. A tempting one. Even if it does mean moving to the other side of the country.

Moving closer to Brittany.

The apartment girls are fun, and Rachel and Kurt have proved themselves to be far more tolerable than she had originally anticipated, but Brittany is… well, everyone in the world comes second to Brittany, in reality. It's just the question of how, and whether she's brave enough.

The one time, the one damn time that Santana actually needs to speak to Quinn for advice, rather than to just call her up and bitch about people, and Quinn isn't answering. Hasn't answered for two days. Santana, frowning darkly at her phone while trying to maintain her personal space on a too crowded subway cart, assumes that if it was Rachel calling, she'd be straight through.

The thought causes a different cog to spin in Santana's brain, and she realizes she's probably been calling the wrong person anyway. Who in their right mind would call Quinn Fabray to discuss the concept of taking a relationship to the next stage?

Rachel's number is right next to Quinn's in Santana's phone book. Santana has always approved of the convenience.

'Rachel? Hi… hang on, let me just reach ground level…'

Santana puts her phone in her pocket, and weaves between the rush hour crowds up to the surface. A man in a suit nearly takes her out with his suitcase, but she survives. When she reaches questionably fresher air, she holds the phone back to her ear, during which time Rachel has seemingly been yapping on to thin air.

'….Santana, are you even there? You can't just call someone and then put them on hold, have you not even the faintest notion of communication etiquette, for all you know I could be incredibly busy and this call a complete inconvenience to my plans for this particular moment of my day, and so…'

Santana interrupts her monolog.

'Are you, incredibly busy? What have you been doing?'

There's a pause, and then Rachel clears her throat.

'Well, nothing beyond watching re-runs of Mad Men and making fruit smoothies. But I could have been busy. I usually am busy.'

Santana grunts at her, and tucks her phone under her chin so she can open her purse, to buy a magazine from a vendor through sign language.

'Whatever, Berry, I was just checking that you weren't in exam hell as well. Quinn has fallen off the fucking planet, she's ignoring me.'

Santana flips through the first couple of pages as she walks, and then notices Rachel hasn't said anything.

'Rachel?'

'Well, Quinn's absence from the communicative world is understandable, Yale examinations are no doubt serious business and require full focus on one's studies, which means all extraneous distractions surely need to be side lined… but is she okay?'

Santana rolls her eyes at thin air, because although Rachel's standard overuse of words becomes tolerable, it never becomes ignorable.

'I don't know Berry, like I said, I can't get hold of her. So you'll do. Try not to speak too much though, okay? Internal processing, please…'

…

Rachel is proud of herself, for how easy it is to say.

When Santana asks her what she thinks about the concept of her and Brittany living together, Rachel can nod, and smile, and words flow simply.

'Oh! You guys would be wonderful together, you make being in love look so straight-forward, yes, definitely. Why, are you going to ask her to move here?'

Santana laughs at her after a second, and seems pleased with Rachel's response from the warmth in her voice.

'Why, are you planning to arrange viewing for us in all the places you and Brody have rejected?'

There it is. Conversational opening. Mention it like it is no big deal, then back to Santana's life.

'Oh, Brody and I broke up. But I'm sure I could give you the details of the agent who was looking for us, you two would probably have very similar needs to the ones that we suggested on our…'

'What? You two… what?'

Rachel feels her finger nails bite into her palm, and realizes she's clenching her fist. She goes for breezy and unconcerned.

'It's nothing really…not the right time for us… no big deal, it was just…'

'No big deal? Rachel… what the fuck… when did this happen, and why? Explain yourself, you can't just drop that in and not expect… what the fuck, Rachel, why didn't you mention this to anyone?'

It's as though Santana's reaction makes the whole thing not so simple, anymore, not so easy. Abruptly she feels tears well up, because she really just wants to talk about Quinn, about how Quinn held her hand and kissed her and then left her, but Quinn is not the topic of conversation and Rachel doesn't even know how to say her name without saying the entire story in one long run on sentence, and the words are so close to spilling out of her, dangerously close.

She hangs up.

…

Kurt knows he is in for a hard time when Santana sits down opposite him and pokes a finger into his chest.

'I leave the city for one week, Hummel, and Rachel and Brody break up. Explain yourself.'

Kurt groans, and takes a gulp of his drink.

'I was hoping to ease you into the concept gently… yes, they broke up. There is no link between your absence and the end of their relationship, can I just say.'

Santana glares darkly at him, and then switches her gaze to the menu chalked on a board over his shoulder.

'Who did the dumping? Seeing as I am completely out of the loop on this, before I speak to Rachel again I need to know what I'm angle I'm approaching this from.'

Kurt follows Santana's lead, and twists around to look at the menu, therefore avoiding having to look at her.

'Rachel, primarily. She didn't want to live with him, and I think the NYADA stress was getting a bit much. She needed some head space.'

When he turns back around Santana is sat back in her chair, with her arms crossed.

'So this has been going on a while, and nobody thought to clue me in? Do I look like some kind of fucking mind reader?'

Kurt crosses his ankles beneath the table, and clears his throat, admonishingly.

'Language, Santana. And, call me a monster, but I didn't find out she was considering leaving him until about a week ago, and my gut instinct was not to tell everyone I knew. She wasn't sure, Santana. I tried to talk her out of it, if I'm honest.'

Santana watches him with narrowed eyes, and then flags down a waiter.

'Hi, a cheese burger and a soda for me, and whatever the boy wonder opposite is having.'

Kurt restrains himself from rolling his eyes, because he should have anticipated that he'd unpopular with everyone on the planet, really.

…

It takes Santana half a cheese burger before she's thawed suitably towards him.

'I asked Rachel if she wanted to come, tonight. You know, by text, because she was too distraught to even hold a conversation with me. I mean, if you'd have given me some kind of heads up, I would not have called her up for tips on co-habitation, like a moron. Are you sure it was definitely her that wanted out?'

Kurt nods solemnly, and picks at a fry from Santana's plate, remembering endless discussions on the couch about how Rachel wasn't sure, and she wasn't happy, and she wasn't being fair.

'Yes, definitely her instigation. You would not believe how many times we talked this through.'

Or how many times Quinn's name came up, he adds in his head, and Santana grunts at him around a mouthful of burger.

'How's she doing, though?'

'She's…' Kurt sighs and passes a hand through his hair, anxious to not give anything away, because it is Rachel and Quinn's job to deal with Santana's meltdown over their quasi-romance, not his, '…she's down. She feels that she hasn't been entirely fair to Brody, which is a completely sensible sentiment. And she has been getting a lot of rejections. Which I know, and she knows, is completely par for the course, but… well. Brody always knew the right thing to say, afterward. I'm not so good. And you'd be useless, if you don't mind me saying.'

Santana manages to kick his ankle under the table while nodding in agreement.

'True. I'm not so hot at the soothing words of comfort… has she told Quinn?'

Kurt attempts to poker face. However the question blindsided him slightly, and he probably looks like he's having some kind of facial seizure.

'Why would she do that?'

Santana looks at him as if he's crazy.

'Ummm, duh? Because they're friends? Because Quinn is relentlessly team Rachel? Because Quinn is actually surprisingly good at the there there stuff? Because Rachel's idea of a good time is listening to Quinn tell her that she is wonderful?'

Kurt smiles weakly, and takes a drink to buy time. Rachel hasn't told Quinn yet. Probably because she didn't know Quinn would react. But now that Santana knows… oh lord, he can't figure out how to keep a lid on this.

He tries, though.

'Quinn is busy with exams, though, Rachel will not want to distract her…'

Santana snorts at him, and drags out her phone.

'Oh, whatever Kurt. Quinn is the woman for the job, fuck knows we're not. I'll tell her, and you can just sit there and pray that Quinn doesn't tear you limb from limb for your decision to not tell her that Rachel was in distress. Jeez Kurt…'

Beyond snatching Santana's phone from her hand and dunking it in their water, Kurt can't identify any possible way of not being torn limb from limb by someone or other. So he just sighs, and steals another fry from Santana's plate.

…

It went okay, she thinks.

That is to say, one of the passages was a section she'd already made notes on, and the theme of lost youth is one Quinn can talk about in her sleep, in fact probably does, and so that's another exam ticked off.

She has two more to go, over the next week. And Quinn has already handed in the final sections of her dissertation, two weeks before the deadline, to the general amazement of her housemates. Sometimes an inability to sleep from concern about where her dreams might take her is a significant advantage.

Quinn has nearly finished her major.

That's a scary thought, so Quinn shifts down to just thinking, she's nearly reached her summer break, and smiles to herself. Amazing, how education can fly by when one isn't concentrating.

She's in a good mood. And she's in an even better mood when she gets back to her dorm and discovers that Ashleigh is in a really bad, study induced, mood.

'Quinn Fabray, I have one evening to memorize this entire fucking text book, get the fuck out of my room and stop singing for fuck's sake!'

Quinn only really sings when she is sure it is going to annoy Ashleigh. She considers facetiously bringing Ashleigh endless rounds of toast for the next four hours, but instead heads into her room, determined to actually read a book for fun, this time.

Her phone is just visible from beneath the corner of her pillow. Quinn reaches for it on impulse.

Hey, Q. I know you are crazy busy educating yourself, and thus have no time for any of your friends, but Rachel broke up with Brody. So that's a mess. And she's still auditioning but getting nothing, and I think she could do with someone who is good with words to talk to her, maybe? From someone who isn't too hilarious to not make jokes, so that rules out me, and Kurt is being useless man, so. Anyway; be nice to Rachel please. So I don't have to.

Quinn isn't sure whether she absorbs anything but the Rachel broke up with Brody, the first time around, and reapplies herself to the second and third reading.

Rachel broke up with Brody.

Quinn doesn't want a relationship. She doesn't know what she is doing next year, or where she'll be, or whether she can even do a relationship that doesn't end in disaster or heartbreak or vows to never speak to the offending party ever again… but. But.

Rachel broke up with Brody.