"I have to talk to Brittany or Quinn. Actually, probably just Quinn. Brittany might make me confused, which as you know, doesn't happen very often, but Brittany can do that sometimes."

Kurt and Mercedes are looking at me like I was just speaking Hebrew at them.

"I'm calling Quinn," I say slowly and in summation of what I just said to them.

"Oh, we got that," Kurt says looking briefly at Mercedes.

"We're wondering why?" she finishes for him.

I exhale and try to hide the smile that's attempting to sneak onto my lips, "Santana started talking to them again."

They both shake their heads and sigh, turn back to look at the front of the car, then turn back to me with their faces saying "really?" without actually saying it.

"I have to," I say as I pull out my phone. Before they can try to convince me otherwise, I scoot out of the car, slam the door and queue up Quinn's number.

"Rachel, wait!"

Kurt's too late.

It's ringing.

"Rachel?"

I duck past Mercedes and shuffle to the other side of the car.

"Hi, Mom," I hear Quinn's voice in my ear once the ringing stops.

That's strange.

"Um, Quinn, I know you don't have the 'smartest' phone, but I know you have caller ID," I say with as much perplexity as I'm experiencing.

"Can we talk about this when I get home, Mom? I'm still with Brittany and Santana."

Oh.

Oh my god.

It's just echoing in my brain. Her name just keeps bouncing through the mess that's been my mind.

"I promise we can talk later, okay?"

Oh, I haven't said anything.

Oops, "Yeah, that's great! Thanks, Quinn. Good bye."

"Later, bye."

"Satisfied?" Kurt asks with his arms across his chest and his hip popped out.

"Yes," I answer with my biggest smile.

"Good," Mercedes steps forward and links her arm into mine, "I'll be strangely honest: I missed that smile."

Kurt takes my other arm and they start walking us towards the mall entrance.

I'm suddenly feeling quite happy to be out. I haven't seen people in a while. I mean, other people that aren't my fathers and Kurt... and all those kids from camp. Okay, so I've seen a lot of people actually, but I mean normal people. Not theatre people. Theatre people are... different. I love them and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with them, but normalcy will need to be in my life simultaneously.

"Mmm... didn't you miss the smell of credit card debt and recession?" Kurt says through this weird, familiar smile after he inhales deeply through his nose.

"Not as much as I missed being with my friends," I say only realizing now that I truly did.

"Aw, we're glad you decided to leave your Cave of Sorrows, too," Mercedes squeezes my arm against her and I furrow my brows, not entirely pleased with her calling my room a cave.

"Where to first?" I ask before I can dwell on it.

I can practically hear Kurt thinking and then, "I need to find a 'please transfer to McKinley' gift for Blaine!"

"You're ridiculous," Mercedes rolls her eyes.

"I think I might have to agree," besides, what kind of gift says 'Please leave your no tolerance for bullying school for my still horrendously intolerant one?'

"Oh I'll find this gift, you two non-believers wait," he says determined and starts steering us through the crowds towards who knows where. "There has to be a bow tie somewhere that will do it."

"Hell to the no, you are not buying that boy another bow tie! He has too many! One is too many," Mercedes has stopped all of us and is staring Kurt down, "Don't buy him hair gel either."

"Why would I buy him hair gel?" Kurt scowls and I almost can't stand I am laughing so hard, "And what do you think is so funny?"

"Everything!"

Everything is funny. I think I'm delirious from the change in atmosphere.

"Great, now she's crazy," I hear Mercedes say and just to prove her right, I keep laughing and slide down the glass that prevents people from stepping off the second floor and falling to the first.

"She's fine," Kurt says and I feel something moving next to me. I look through my watery eyes and see his cranberry blazer at eye level. A second later I feel Mercedes on my other side, "I think she needs this."

"I can't believe she's sitting on the floor in the mall. This has to be on the list of things Rachel Berry would never ever do," Mercedes leans forward to look at Kurt when she's speaking as if I can't hear her.

"It is," I say as best I can through my still heavy laughter, "And I do need this!"

"Then we will sit here with you until it's out," Kurt says to me and covers my hand with his.

"We will," Mercedes covers my other hand.

It's not letting up. I seriously cannot stop laughing. At this point there is nothing in particular to laugh at. It's just coming out of me. And I don't even care that everyone passing by probably thinks I'm absolutely insane.

I don't know why, but as I'm still laughing harder than I think I ever have, I let my eyes wander up a pair of toned, tan legs that have stopped approximately twenty feet away from us. Then I hear it. It's muffled but it still carries all the way over to my ears.

"Santana...?"

My laughter completely halts and my head shoots up. I'm pretty sure my heart ceased to function as my eyes meet with hers. They're so sad and tired and all I can do is wish that I could have been there this whole time.

But she shut me out.

All I can think of doing right now is jumping up and wrapping my arms around her. That's what my instinct is telling me, but I'm completely paralyzed by the sight of her in front of me. I wish I knew what she was thinking. I wish she knew what I'm thinking. Because if she did, would she still be standing there or would she be walking towards me?

Before I can even realize it's happening, my vision becomes blurry. I'm crying. In public. Actually crying. While this isn't nearly my first time crying in a public forum, it's the first time I've ever felt this crippled by a sobbing fit in front of an audience.

I don't see Quinn and Brittany usher her away. I don't even hear Kurt and Mercedes helping me up and guiding me towards the restroom in the opposite direction. Really the first thing I hear is my own heavy inhale echoing in the "family restroom" that all three of us are in.

"I knew we should have called one of them first," Mercedes lightly backhands Kurt's shoulder.

"That goes on the list of things that are not important right now," Kurt snarks back and turns to me, bringing his hands to my cheeks and his thumbs under my eyes, he pouts, "she looked awful."

"You know as well as I do that she didn't," I choke out.

"It was worth a shot," he smiles with one side of his lips.

"We're sorry-"

"Stop," I close my eyes and hold up my hand, interrupting Mercedes, "I'm fine. Actually," I take a breath because I feel as though my lungs are need of it and as I let it out, a smile creeps onto my lips, "I'm happy I saw her. That was the first time since the services."

I'm met with partially shocked expressions from both of them.

"Don't get me wrong, it really aches, but seeing her out leads me to believe that things are getting better for her and maybe..." I let my thought trail away. Perhaps it's the superstitious side to me that I try to keep hidden, but I feel as though saying that seeing her getting better gives me hope for us could be a complete and utter jinx. The last thing I need are for external forces to come swooping in and ruining all that could be. It's bad enough that I have to use the phrase "could be."

"So, what do you want to do now?" Kurt questions, eyeing me through the mirror.

"Well," I turn, satisfied that a crying fit isn't still completely evident on my face, "if I'm not mistaken, someone has a 'please transfer because you love me' gift to find."

"Yes!" Kurt squeals and claps simultaneously.

"Girl, you just had to make him do that," Mercedes rolls her eyes then wraps her fingers around the door handle.

"His excitement is refreshing," I say with a heavier than usual exhale.

"We really needed to get you out sooner," Kurt deadpans, looking back at me as he walks through the door and past an actual family waiting for the restroom.

"Sorry," I mumble as I pass them.

"Forget the gift," Kurt turns stopping us all dead in our tracks, "we're finding the dumbest movie in the theatre and seeing it. No arguments. You need something mindless."

"Mindless," I repeat because it sounds... peaceful and simple, things I haven't experienced in quite some time.

~:~:~

"Hi, honey," Papa greets me from the stairs as I walk in, "how was the world outside?"

"Smaller than I remember," I reply, referring to the encounter without actually having to say anything about it. I make sure to wear a smile though, if I can't fool my father, I won't fool anyone.

For a moment, I think he's going to ask me what I mean and I can feel my heart leap into my throat. I just can't right now. If he asks, I have to talk about seeing her and I still feel so good from the events that took place after the event. His pensive regard disappears and my heart stops pounding, leaving me with a ghost of its heaviness in my chest. He smiles sadly then points to the kitchen with his thumb, "Your dad made eggplant cacciatore."

Suddenly the intoxicating smell of one of my favorite meals wafts into my olfactory, "It smells like heaven."

I start for the kitchen and as I do, I sense Papa following me. It makes me a little uneasy because he could still ask.

"It might be his best one yet," I hear him chuckle behind me.

I turn as I'm walking through the doorway to the kitchen, "You say that every time… and for everything Daddy cooks."

"Well, everything always gets better!" he smiles, then I see him look beyond me. I turn back and see that Daddy's now in the kitchen.

Excellent. Double the opportunity for them to ask me about the mall.

Hold on a moment; I don't have to say anything about it. If they ask me about what happened at the mall, I can tell what we did. Leaving something out doesn't equate lying.

God! What is wrong with me? I'm bargaining with myself over talking to my fathers about something. I tell them everything. I simply don't think I can relive seeing Sa- I can't even think her name right now let alone tell them out loud that I saw her.

I saw her.

Oh god.

"You know-"

And the doorbell interrupts the announcement of my loss of appetite.

I'd say, 'saved by the bell,' but I don't know if that's true.

"Were we expecting someone?" Daddy asks Papa and me as he wipes his hands with a dish towel. After we both shake our heads and shrug our shoulders, he crosses the kitchen then exits it to get the door.

"What did you want to say before, honey?" Papa's hand lands on my shoulder and a plate full of eggplant cacciatore slides in front of me. I was so lost in my internal monologue, I didn't even notice he was making me a plate.

"I…" well, now that it's in front of me and it smells so good, "nothing. Thanks, Papa."

"Rachel," I hear Daddy at the kitchen doorway, but I can't turn to him with my fork in my mouth, "it's for you."

I have no idea who it could be. Well, I know who it isn't… no matter, I'd like to not have a mouthful of pasta when I turn to greet whoever it is… or tomato sauce on my face. I chew as quickly as I can without choking and wipe at my lips with a napkin simultaneously, then turn on my stool towards the doorway.

"Quinn."

"Hey, Rachel," she stands awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen, holding her arm at her elbow and looking between Daddy, Papa and me.

"Umm…" Papa pipes in from his corner of the kitchen, "Leroy and I have something… upstairs…"

"Right!" Daddy claps his hands together and smiles, "Up we go. It's wonderful seeing you Quinn."

"Yes, very!" Papa chimes from the bottom of the stairs that he clearly sprinted to.

"It's great to see you, too, Mister…s Berry," Quinn's lips twist and I can see her internally berate herself.

Daddy smiles at her, "If you're hungry, Quinn, there's still some leftover pasta. I just put it away so it's still warm."

"Thank you, Mr-" this time Daddy gives her a look and she catches herself, "Leroy."

"Anytime, Quinn. Stay as long as you like… just not too late, it is a school night," he smiles, clearly amused by himself.

"Okay, Daddy," I verbally shoo him away because I know why Quinn is here. I didn't expect her to show up here to talk about this. Perhaps I might have actually preferred a phone call. You can hear everything that goes on downstairs from the upstairs.

"That looks really good," Quinn has crept a little further into the kitchen, far enough that she can see what's on the plate next to me.

"Do you want some? Daddy's a culinary genius," I laugh lightly and hop off of my stool in preparation for Quinn to agree a plate.

She seems to have a a debate about it, but eventually she nods and says, "Maybe just a little."

I go to the refrigerator and grab the only container that could possibly have the leftovers in it. "There's actually only a little left," I hold out the open container to her showing her the small amount of pasta smothered in what was left of the eggplant sauce.

"That's perfect," she nods and shoves her hands awkwardly into her shorts' pockets.

"It is still warm," I say feeling the awkward tension somehow get thicker, "want it straight up or in a plate?"

She laughs a little at my poor attempt at humor, but it cuts into the tension slightly and I am greatly appreciative, "Straight up is fine."

I grab a fork from the utensil drawer and hand it to her along with the container. I go back to my seat at the island and wait for her to join me before I start shifting the pasta on my plate. Because now my appetite really is gone. I'm far too anxious to talk to her about… her. I wait another three fruitless twirls of the pasta on my plate before I start, "How's RJ?"

That's not what I wanted to ask.

"She's great. She's been working a lot but I see her more now that camp is over…"

She lets her sentence fray away, probably hearing back what she'd just said and stopping for my sake. Except I wish she wouldn't.

"So you guys are doing well?" I ask genuinely interested. I've been living vicariously through Kurt and Blaine's relationship, it'd be nice to hear about something different.

"Yes," she answers tentatively and it is so frustrating. How can I possibly get myself through this if everyone around me walks on eggshells all the time?

"Quinn, I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't genuinely interested. I haven't seen RJ since FAME ended."

I think she's finally getting it because she smiles and says, "Well, the only people she's really seen since then are the people at the Lima Bean, her parents and me." Then this pink tint appears in her cheeks and I immediately know what she's thinking about.

"So you got over some… things?" I ask remembering how nervous she was about a potential sexual encounter with RJ before they'd even gone on their first date. But of course that brings me back to that night so my thoughts immediately turn to Santana.

This is why people walk on eggshells around me.

Quinn must see it, "Umm… yeah…" then that trails off and we're left with another bout of awkwardness.

I turn to my plate and get a few bites down before I turn back to her, "I-"

"I'm-"

"Go ahead," I offer up the floor to Quinn because the last time I spoke, I asked a question I didn't really want to.

"I'm sorry that I had to be so… short with you when you called earlier," she curls her hair behind her ear as she looks over to me.

"It's okay. I completely understood why," I say nervously. I really wish my nerves would get ahold of themselves. It's just a conversation. I'm just going to talk to my friend about how my… I don't even know what she is… what we are…

Before that thought can completely overwhelm me, Quinn says, "She's talked about you."

"What?" that's all I can get out before my lungs fail me completely.

"I figured out of all the things I could tell you, that was the thing you wanted to hear the most," she exhales then bites down nervously on her bottom lip.

That is what I wanted to hear, but I'm not sure it's what I wanted to hear first. She could have eased into it and told me how she was doing. No. Instead she tells me immediately that she's been talking about me… but she can't talk to me. Maybe I'd rather not have learned that she's talking about me.

"But she can't talk to me?" I wince a little in preparation for Quinn's answer because I already know what it is.

"Not yet," she responds with sadness laced in her voice, "she just… when she thinks about you, she thinks about her mother and while it's gotten better, she just breaks down. Brittany and I had to talk her down after she saw you."

"What? Quinn, that doesn't even make sense," I say without thinking about it, because it doesn't.

I can suddenly read the conflict on Quinn's face as clearly as a New York Times headline. Her lips twist and it seems like she's trying to find the right words to say whatever it is that's in her head. Then she exhales, "She doesn't blame you for anything. Not even remotely, but when she thinks about you, she thinks about the fights and how things were left with her mother before she…"

"Oh my god," I'm vaguely aware that my hand has lifted up to my mouth because all that's flashing through my mind is every experience I'd ever had with Santana and her mother and how poorly most of them ended. It was all because her mother hated that Santana was with me. It never even crossed my mind that this could be the reason why she couldn't speak to me let alone see me. This new information does nothing to fill the emptiness that I'm still left with, if anything it makes it all worse. I can't do anything. I can't fix something that I never had any control over. Then the thought that in this entire month and a half I'd refused to let settle in my mind, roots itself, "It's over."

"I don't think that's true-"

"How? I can't do anything about this!"

"It's getting better. If you just wait-"

"What if it never actually gets better? I love her, Quinn, but I've spent nearly two months in this horrendous cloud of sorrow waiting for her to just send me a text message. I've gotten nothing! I haven't done anything wrong! All I want to do is be there for her but she doesn't want me around. She didn't even acknowledge me at her mother's services! I know it might sound selfish, but it fucking hurts. I'm not sure I can wait around for her after how much she's hurt me," I know I shouldn't be, but I'm so angry at Santana right now. I know life isn't fair, but love should be.

"Rachel-"

"I know!" the last thing I need right now is some sort of calm down turned lecture from Quinn, "I know that her mother died and I have no idea what that's like, but I could know, because she could have told me. We could have worked through this together. Instead she shut me out completely. She couldn't even tell me herself what had happened. She had her father do it," I exhale out as much of the tension I can because it's starting to hurt my chest, "I just can't keep existing like this anymore. I've been in limbo all summer and starting tomorrow I'm going to see her everyday and I don't even know how to act around her."

"Ignore her," Quinn states simply.

Except that wasn't really a simple answer, "What?"

"Let her know how angry you are at her. I don't think it's selfish for you to be angry with her; not at this point at least. She really hasn't even sent you a single text message?" Quinn frowns at the prospect.

"Nothing," I say, barely opening my mouth.

"And I know you tried to talk to her in the beginning," she rolls her eyes at herself, "I swiped her phone during our intervention. I saw all of the missed calls and texts."

She's right. I tried. I let her know that I was there for her and she's let all this time pass by without even breathing a single word to me. Maybe Kurt's been right this whole time. She isn't going to come to my door begging for me to forgive her.

I think I'm okay with knowing that. Finally. I mean, I still feel like something is missing, but I don't feel like I'll be entering into my own personal Hell at school tomorrow.

That's it. Tomorrow, no matter how much I want to walk up to her attempt to erase all that's happened… and subsequently hasn't happened this summer, I won't. I won't even give her the time of day.

Santana Lopez, who?

A/N: Look at this! A week later! So, I'm happy with the way this is going. I'm also 2 chapters ahead of you... well, technically more than that because I have actually taken some notes. Don't be nervous. I think you're gonna like this.