Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Hope you're enjoying it so far. This chapter gets me to over 100k words which is awesome as far as milestones go. I have no idea how long this story will end up being, as this is still the first week story-wise. The first week is probably the hardest, though, when something like this happens, so I imagine time will start flowing somewhat quicker after the next chapter or two.

I know nothing about jogging or running programs. I made up something that sounded really difficult. To my metric-using readers, a mile is about 1600m.

Again, thanks for reading. Please leave me a review if you're feeling like it. They keep me motivated and churning out chapters.

Quinn woke up to the sound of crying, only realizing once she was more awake that it wasn't Rachel's but her own. The nightmare had been so realistic, maybe because it was partially a memory. Rachel was in the bathtub again, white dress stained with blood. Quinn was holding her arms up, trying to stop the bleeding, but there was just too much blood. Her face kept getting paler and paler as Quinn looked down into those slowly closing chocolate eyes. She could still hear the words, the last words, leaving Rachel's lips. "This is your fault." And "Why didn't you save me?"

Quinn shook her head to try and clear the remnants of the dream. A beam of moonlight just barely illuminated the room so that Quinn could see Rachel was still sleeping. The soft snores that permeated the room only reinforced it. It was a cute snore, really. Then again, just about everything about Rachel was starting to be cute to Quinn. The way she bit her lip when she was shy or nervous or unsure. The way she rambled when she forgot that she was supposed to be depressed that reminded Quinn so much of the way she used to be. The way she refused to let Quinn open her bottle of water, assuring Quinn that she was perfectly capable of doing it with one hand. The way she picked apart her pizza with a fork, toppings then bread then crust. And it was annoying the fuck out of Quinn.

Rachel Berry wasn't cute. Children were cute. Animals were cute. Sam was cute. Rachel was… new. That was it. And not all that bad. Now that Quinn wasn't constantly trying to figure out ways to antagonize the brunette, she was actually getting to know her, and it was only the fact that everything was new about Rachel Berry that had Quinn intrigued. She wasn't interested in Rachel. Well, okay, she was, but only as her new friend. As someone trying to help Rachel get better. Nothing more.

Quinn repeated that phrase like a mantra, 'nothing more, nothing more, nothing more' as she slipped out of bed, shivering against the cold. She opened the door to their room and stepped outside, letting the door close with a soft click. There was a banister in part of the hallway that looked out over the living room, so she sat down in front of it, looking down over the darkened room. Santana's house was amazing, though not as big as the Fabray house. It was more inviting, though. A home, rather than a house. Somewhere they were all welcome.

Thoughts, memories filtered back to her of the first time she'd taken Santana and Brittany to her house for a sleepover early in their freshman year. She'd had to take down most of the pictures that her in them as so many were taken back in her Lucy days. Her parents had been stiff until sufficiently plied with alcohol. Her mom had warmed up to them somewhat, especially Brittany. Her dad had… leered… after a few too many and excused himself to go watch television in his office, letting the three of them have the den to themselves. It wasn't exactly the best of times, and Quinn generally found reasons not to have them over after that.

Now with her mother an almost completely different person and her father gone, she wondered if she should consider having them over again. Except Quinn would have to invite Rachel, too, and she wasn't sure her mom was ready to meet her. Judy Fabray was a Fabray after all. She had never defended the Berrys against Russell's normal tirades against them. It was possible she held the same opinions. That she thought they were an 'abomination against God' and 'sinners' and 'going to hell' the same as Russell had often said. And God forbid her mom ever find out about any of the perverse thoughts Quinn was constantly fighting against.

The door to Santana's bedroom opened up and a sleepy looking Santana walked out, stumbling her way to the bathroom. After a couple of minutes, a toilet flush, and the sound of the sink running, she stumbled back out and over to Quinn, sitting down beside her. She worked her legs through the railings the same as Quinn had and let her feet dangle over the balcony of the living room. "Aren't you ever worried your legs are going to get stuck in there?" Santana asked while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, though considering she was doing the same thing, it was kind of hypocritical.

"When I was pregnant and my feet and legs swelled up," Quinn said. "Other than that, no. Why are you up?"

"You just heard me pee," Santana said. "It should be obvious, even for you."

"Sorry. Why are you still up?" Quinn tried again. It was always like this, antagonistic even when getting along. Their friendship was a unique one.

"I knew the sound of you thinking so hard out here was going to keep me awake," Santana said. "Figured I had to either talk you down or beat you unconscious before I could get back to sleep. I went with option A." She paused. "For now." They sat there in silence for a minute, staring down into the darkness before Santana finally turned to look at Quinn. "What's up, Cap?"

"I was thinking about jogging tomorrow," Quinn started off slowly, feeling out the developing plan in her head. "With Rachel." She noticed Santana look over at this. "I was thinking we could run a Step Program with her."

"A Three Step should be fine," Santana said, putting her head down against the bars of the banister. Brittany must have tired her out. "She works out in the mornings on that elliptical thing, right? She should be fine with that."

"I was actually thinking of something higher."

"A Five Step?" Santana asked, raising her head to again look at her. Quinn didn't meet her gaze. "I'm not sure Berry could do a Five-"

"A Seven, actually."

There was silence. She could feel the stare burning into the side of her head now. "No."

Quinn turned to her, arching an eyebrow. "No?"

Santana sighed, resigned, and faced away from Quinn. "Not 'no', obviously," she said reluctantly. "You're the captain. You say Seven, we do Seven. But she's never going to make it. She'll give up. Hell, I might not make it. We haven't done a Seven Step since weeding out the newcomers in tryouts. And it's fucking Christmas Eve, Quinn. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Contrary to what you believe, San," Quinn said, bumping her shoulder against her brooding friend, "not everything is about you. And Rachel will make it. You just have to… motivate her."

"And by motivate, you mean…?" Santana let the question hang there. Quinn knew she needed to hear her say the words. And as much as she hated to, Quinn did it.

"I mean, treat her like you treat the Cheerios." For a second, she thought Santana was going to say no again, was going to fight her about this. When she said nothing, Quinn asked, "What do you need to do this?"

"Limits," Santana said quietly.

"Don't say anything about me," Quinn said. Looking over to Santana's room, she added, "Or Brittany. Everything else is on the table. Her dads, Jesse, Finn, cheating with Puck. Shelby. Whatever you need."

"Even her suicide attempt?"

"Especially that," Quinn said, hating herself for what was going to happen. "But not until the last run mile." Quinn felt like that one might break her, and she was already giving herself a mental reminder to pack an extra bottle of water and Rachel's antianxiety pills. Mentioning the pills and Rachel's dads reminded her. "Oh, by the way, Rachel's dad said if you or Brittany ever need to talk about anything, that they were there for you guys."

"What would we need to talk to them about?"

"Oh, I don't know," Quinn said, feigning ignorance. "Whatever two older gay role-model types that live in a closed-minded community like Lima might want to talk about. Fashion or interior decorating, I'm sure."

Santana was silent for a moment. "Well, damn. That's… decent… of them."

"Yeah," Quinn acknowledged. She left out the part where Leroy had basically called her a lesbian, too. "Decent." After another silent minute, Quinn asked, "Anything else?" and they both knew they were going back to the previous topic. The run and Rachel.

"An explanation would be nice," Santana said. "I mean, did she steal your side of the bed, or is this some kind of revenge thing for her getting Finn or…?"

"No," Quinn said. "At the mall today, she pushed Brittany-"

"And this is, what? Some kind of punishment for that?

"No! God, stop interrupting," Quinn said, voice rising into an angry whisper. After a moment of getting her thoughts back in order, she said, "She was angry. Like, rage-bubbling-below-the-surface-waiting-to-blow-up angry. It's kind of how I was-"

"Was?"

"-during the pregnancy," Quinn finished, shooting a smirking Santana a glare. "Yes, was! And this wasn't the first time Rachel's had these sudden bursts of anger. I think she's really angry and she doesn't know how to deal."

They both stared forward, contemplative. "What's she so angry about?"

"Being alive, maybe?" Quinn said, phrasing it like a question, a guess. Rachel had said as much to her in the hospital, that she wasn't glad she was alive, but that was private between them. She didn't want to share Rachel's secrets, but Santana needed to know for Quinn's plan to work.

"I…" Santana started. "I thought she'd be, like, happy, or something. Have some huge hero boner for you. I thought that's why you two were getting along so well. She was all 'OMG, I love Quinn for saving me' and you, loving the hero worship and people looking up to you, let her."

"I think she's still doing all that, too," Quinn said. Santana smirked while Quinn blushed, suddenly realizing what she had said. "I mean, not the way you put it. Obviously. Just that she's still thankful sometimes, but she's also angry and depressed and everything else, too. I think hating you while we run will give her an outlet so maybe she can get some of the anger out."

"So you do want her to hate me?" Santana asked, nice enough to phrase it like a question even though they both knew the answer.

"Out of the three of us, you're the one that can take it," Quinn said, wrapping her arm around Santana's shoulders and pulling her closer. Neither of them were often affectionate, but here, in the darkness of the house, it seemed like it was okay. "I know you're trying to make it up to her. We both are. But she trusts me, and I told her I wouldn't lie to her, and Brittany-"

"About anything?" Santana asked, moving back to look at her. "You actually told her you wouldn't lie to her anymore about anything?"

"Well, yeah," Quinn said, confused by the question, by Santana's sudden interest. "In the hospital, she said she needed someone she could talk to that she could be honest with, and I told her she could do that with me. That, from now on, I would always be honest with her. That's why we've been closer. Not the 'hero worship' thing." Santana was just staring at her, so Quinn added, "She didn't have anyone. She needed me."

"So…" Santana was again smirking. Damn her and her devious smirk. It was just never a good thing. "The girl that you 'hate'," she said, making air quotes, "gets all the openness and honesty from you, but when your 'boyfriend'," again with the air quotes, "wants the same thing, you break up with him? That sound right to you, Q?"

Shit. Apparently not thinking about Sam had caused her to forget about that. Of course Santana was a damned bull dog and wouldn't forget it. "It's not the same," Quinn said only slightly angry. "Sam was digging for information about me. Trying to get into my business-"

"Because he's your boyfriend."

"-while Rachel just wanted someone to be honest with her, and yes, I know he's my boyfriend, Santana!" Quinn said. They almost never used full names unless one of them was mad at the other.

Santana wisely held up both hands, surrendering. "Sorry, bitch. Damn."

Quinn sighed a frustrated sigh and smoothed her hand through her hair. "It's fine. So, as I was saying, if Rachel hates you during the run, it might let her get some of the aggression out. I can't do that to her anymore and Brittany… Brittany never would. So that leaves you. And I think, once it's over, that we can maybe explain what we were doing, then she won't hate you the rest of the time. Just when we go running."

"Go running?" Santana asked. "You make it sound like…" but Quinn's turning away answered her unasked question. "Tomorrow's not a one-time deal, is it? Tomorrow's just going to be the first time. Ugh! How often were you thinking?"

"Days we don't have Cheerios practice."

"What the fuck, Quinn!" Santana whisper-yelled. "Doing Seven Steps every other day? Are you trying to kill me?"

"No," Quinn said, just as angrily. "I'm trying to make sure Rachel doesn't kill herself!" This took all the fight out of Santana. Her shoulders visibly slumped, and Quinn felt like a bitch for saying that. It was true, though. She had to help Rachel. Saving her life wasn't just about making sure she didn't bleed to death. It was about making sure she still wanted to live. "Come on, San. I can't do this without you. I could run with her, but I can't push her like you can. No one could. I need you. Rachel needs you."

"You suck, Fabray," Santana said, standing up. "I'll help you because I love you and all, but, seriously? I hate you sometimes."

Quinn followed, removing her legs from between the railings of the banister and standing up. "Sometimes, I hate me, too." Santana again stared, unsure of what to say to that. Quinn didn't even know why she had said it besides she had been thinking it and because it was the truth. "Oh, one more thing," she added. "You have to tell Brittany about all this and that she can't interfere."

"Ugh!" Santana groaned out in frustration. They both knew Brittany would be upset about them pushing Rachel. "Fuck you, Q."

"Sorry, not interested," Quinn said, smiling and turning to walk away. "You're not my type."

"Little, soft, dark skin, brunette," Santana said. "I think I'm exactly your type."

Quinn turned around, facing a grinning Santana. "Sam… Sam doesn't look anything like that." And she saw it, the way Santana's face lit up. Fuck that fucking little stutter of insecurity in her voice. She may as well have gotten a giant rainbow tattooed on her forehead. Santana knew now. She'd just told her by that fucking waver in the way she'd denied it. Fuck!

This time it was Santana who turned to walk away, smiling the entire time. "No. No, he doesn't."

The alarm blared at six thirty just as Quinn had set it the night before, and she blindly reached over, silencing it. With a soft, sleepy sound, Rachel thanked her and cuddled back into Quinn's chest, cheek pressed into her breasts. Their legs were tangled against each other's while Quinn's arm lay wrapped around the girl's waist, hand in the back of her sleep shorts on the smooth skin of her butt. She lay there feeling the softness as she lazily drug her fingertips back and forth causing Rachel to make little mewing sounds in her sleep. It was still peaceful and quiet, and she didn't want anything to interrupt their first morning waking up together. Quinn wished all her mornings could start out like this, wrapped in the feel, the smell of Rachel, Rachel's head on her chest, Quinn's hand on… wait. Where was her hand again?

Quinn suddenly pushed herself out from under Rachel, startling the both of them into wakefulness as Quinn slid off of the bed, knocking her elbow into the nightstand with a loud bang, and falling onto the floor with a "Whoa! OW! SHIT!"

"Quinn!" Rachel yelped, rushing over on hands and knees to peer over the side of the bed. Quinn looked up at her from where she lay on the other side of the bed with a wide-eyed startled expression that matched Rachel's. "Quinn, are you okay?! Are you hurt? Do we need to call someone? Did you hit your head? Oh my God, you hit your head, didn't you? Answer me, Quinn!"

"What the fuck is going on in here?!" Santana came in yelling and half asleep. "Rachel? Where's Quinn?"

"I'm here," Quinn said, raising a hand to wave from where she was laying on the floor. Santana came around the bed to see an embarrassed looking, red-faced Quinn laying there. "Just admiring the underside of the bed. Nice construction work, really."

Santana closed her eyes, shook her head, and walked out of the room, cursing under her breath in Spanish the entire time. After another minute in which Rachel was still staring down at Quinn, and Quinn was doing her best to forget how they had woken up, she finally got up.

In embarrassed silence, Quinn walked over to the dresser and took the extra set of running clothes that Santana had lent her the night before. She was almost to the door when she looked over and saw Rachel, now standing with a hand on her butt. She looked confused.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, nervously. "Umm… did you… I mean, when we were sleeping, did you have your hand-"

"No," Quinn said too quickly, forcefully, hoping to shut the conversation down. God, wasn't she red enough already?

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked. "Because I seem to remember-"

"Well, I didn't."

"Oh," Rachel said. Again Quinn started to walk out the door, and again Rachel stopped her. "Quinn?" She turned to look at the brunette, who was also blushing slightly. "You make a really nice pillow."

"I-uh-um…" Quinn was able to say, elegantly, she might add, before turning on her heel and marching out the door and into the bathroom.

Once barricaded inside the bathroom, she splashed water on her face and tried to forget how this morning started. It was Christmas Eve, it was her favorite time of year, she had awesome presents waiting at her house for Sam and Rachel, and she wasn't going to let anything ruin her morning.

Or so she thought, until she opened the door and came face to face with a scowling Brittany. A scowling Brittany who pushed her back into the bathroom and closed the door. "Don't worry," Brittany said in the angriest voice Quinn had ever heard her use. "I know Rachel can't be by herself, not really. Santana's in there with her while they change."

Quinn started to say something, thanks, maybe, but Brittany interrupted her. "No. You don't get to talk. I'm mad at you. You're going to be mean to Rachel, and worse, you're making San do it for you. That's really mean even for you, Quinn. If you want to be mean to Rachel and see her cry again, you should just do it yourself. You shouldn't involve us. Rachel is all broken and stuff, and you're going to have San make fun of her to, what? Get her to run more? That's stupid. It's really stupid, and we shouldn't do it."

Quinn was quiet for a moment. "Are you done?" Brittany blew an angry breath out of her nose but nodded. "Good. Did Santana even explain why we're doing what we're doing this morning?" Another angry nod. "Good. Then tell me, Britts, am I wrong? You said you read people. You've been around Rachel almost twenty-four hours now. Tell me she's not angry. Like, deep-down angry." Quinn waited, but Brittany said nothing. "Okay, then tell me you have a better idea to help her get all that anger out. Please." Again, Brittany was silent. "If her hands and wrists weren't messed up, I'd take her boxing and let her hit me, but that's not an option. She used to use the elliptical like Coach Sue has every morning, so I know she can run. And Santana is the best person for this. If I try to yell at her, it will just hurt her. If you try, sweetie, you'll be apologizing before you can even get it out of your mouth. Santana does it better, and we both know that."

"But-"

"Britts," Quinn said, taking hold of her hands. "It's just like Cheerios. We all have our parts to do. Santana's the motivator, and you're the one that makes sure everyone is still happy and having fun. And I… I have to make the really shitty decisions like this one. But at the end of training camp, everyone's on the same team. We're a family."

"Yeah, but… but some of the girls don't make it," Brittany said. "Because they can't keep up."

"We're not 'cutting' Rachel," Quinn said. "If she can't keep up, like, if she's actually physically unable, then we stop. We all know how far someone can be pushed. You, best of all, Britts. You know what the body can and can't do. If you say stop, we're done. I promise."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what."

"Okay, I guess," Brittany said. "But can I at least talk to her while we run?"

"No, Britts," Quinn said, hating how unhappy she was making the taller blonde. "You know the rules. First time run, you can't talk to her. Santana has to be in charge of this or else Rachel won't listen to her. If you smile at her, if you tell her that San doesn't really mean it, you'll make it okay for her to stop running. And she has to run. She has to run until she hates Santana."

"But I don't want her to hate Santana," Brittany said sadly.

"I know, Britts," Quinn said, pulling the girl into a hug. "I don't either. That's why, when we get back, Rachel can have the first shower." Brittany looked confused, looking down at Quinn. "She can't be alone by herself, but she's going to still be upset. A shower will calm her down. And while she's showering, you can stay in here with her and tell her stories about you and San. No sex stuff, Britts. Just about you two being friends or something. It's your job to make sure she doesn't hate Santana all the time. It's okay while we're running, but not the rest of the time. Can you do that for me, Britts? Can you do that for Rachel?"

"Yeah…" Brittany said after a moment or two of nervously biting her lip. She looked to be in thought, so Quinn hugged her again, then moved past her and opened the bathroom door. "I still don't like this plan, Q."

"I know," Quinn said. "I don't either, but I think it needs to be done. Strong body,…"

"Strong mind," Brittany finished. "I know. I just don't like it." They stood there staring at each other for a moment before Brittany said, "That's all, Quinn. I have to pee now."

"Oh, right, sorry," Quinn said, walking out and shutting the door behind her. She made her way back to her and Rachel's room finding Santana and Rachel both laying the wrong way across the bed, clothed in warm looking running clothes. Rachel lay curled on her side, facing Santana and talking about something while Santana had her forearm over her eyes and looked asleep.

"Quinn!" Rachel said, popping out of bed and rushing over. "I was telling Santana about Wicked while we were waiting for you and Brittany to finish talking about my birthday present." Quinn looked behind Rachel to Santana who shrugged with a 'what the fuck was I supposed to tell her' expression. "I was explaining that you and I were like Elphaba and Galinda and Finn was like Fiyero, and she asked who she would be, and I said that maybe she could be Nessarose since we kind of look alike a little bit with the dark hair and skin, but that she was in a wheelchair, and Santana didn't want to be in a wheelchair which I think has something to do with her disliking Artie, but I told her that it was actually better that she was Nessarose because then Brittany could be Boq, but now that I think about that's probably not a happy ending for them or for us, really. Hmmm… I may need to rethink this Wicked to real-life comparison. Anyway, so I was telling her about the show and-"

"Whoa, Rachel. Take a breath. Jesus," Quinn said. Turning to Santana, she asked, "So your mom finally got the espresso machine working?"

To which Santana just said, "Nope. That's all her."

Quinn smiled and grabbed Rachel's hands, asking quietly, "Do you talk a lot when you're nervous?" Rachel bit her lip and looked down but nodded. "You must be nervous all the time, then, huh?"

Rachel looked back up, offended, reached out, and slapped Quinn hard on the arm. "Quinn!" She pouted, which caused Quinn to giggle, but Santana curiously watching them stopped her. "I resent that. I just… this is only the second time we've all hung out in public and only the third time for you and I and neither time has gone as well as I could have hoped. I'm just nervous that someone will see us."

By this point, Brittany had wandered in with a paper plate of muffins and four bottles of water, two tucked under her arms and two in the hand that wasn't holding the muffins. "I don't care if people see us, Rachel," Quinn said. "You're my friend, and if they don't like that, I don't really care."

"Muh nuffer," Brittany said with her mouth full of muffin from beside Santana which they guessed meant 'me neither'.

"Yeah, fuck those putas, Berry," Santana said. "If they give us any trouble, I'm not afraid to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on their asses."

Rachel turned to Santana suddenly, and said, "That's something I've been meaning to ask. You keep saying you're from Lima Heights Adjacent-"

"Here we go," Quinn said, covering her eyes.

"-but this house is really nice and nowhere near Lima Heights Adjacent so that doesn't really… make… sense…?" Rachel stuttered out the last part, looking over at Quinn who was looking weary of the conversation already. "What?"

"Here's the thing, Berry," Santana said, standing from the bed and getting in Rachel's personal space. Quinn stood close behind, ready to interrupt, but Santana was still smiling, so she wasn't completely worried. Just ready. "Growing up, my parents worked a lot, like all the time, and me and my brother and sister stayed with mi abuela most of the time. She lives in Lima Heights Adjacent, and, how would you say it? She isn't a very nice woman. She's hard, and she raised us on insults and taught us to be hard and to take care of our own. And, lucky for you, you're one of my own now, which is why I'm smiling instead of threatening and/or beating you for doubting my street cred. Plus, I just happen to think it's adorable how Quinn is being all 'guard dog' right now."

"Totally cute," Brittany said, still picking at her muffin from the bed.

"So, yeah, I can claim Lima Heights Adjacent as much as I want because most of my time has been spent there," Santana said. "I have a lot of friends still in that neighborhood that go to Perry High School because they can't afford to drive out here to William McKinley. They'd do anything for me, and I'd do anything for them, and by anything, I mean legal, illegal, whatever. So be thankful that we're now friends, and that I never really hated you, because if I did, you might not still be here. Me entiendes?

"Si," Rachel said. "I mean, yes. Sorry. I was just curious."

"It's cool," Santana said. "I don't have a problem with you knowing. These bitches know already. We share stuff now, Berry. You have a question, just ask. But not, y'know, all the time, because then I really might have to hurt you."

"Would one question per day be okay?" Rachel asked. Quinn thought she was joking for a second, but moving around to look at her, she was completely serious. Of course she was.

Santana sighed. "God, why can't you just…" Santana started to say, but the look on Rachel's face stopped her. "You know what? Fine. One question per day." Rachel was about to speak again, but Santana stopped her. "And yes, that was your question for today. You can text me a new one tomorrow."

"Oh, can I play, too?" Brittany asked, to which Rachel said 'yes' and they hugged, and then Rachel turned to hug a reluctant Santana who pushed her back into Brittany reminding Rachel that she was having her hugs outsourced to Brittany. Rachel then moved over to hug Quinn, even though she had nothing to do with this whole thing, but, sure, why not hug Rachel? Wasn't like she was groping her ass or anything not an hour ago. Plus hugging Rachel felt right even while feeling really wrong. Quinn was just going to put all that aside for the moment because friends hugged. Clearly Rachel hugging Santana and Brittany, or really just Brittany, proved that.

After the 'hug-a-thon', Santana's words not Quinn's, which then caused Brittany to say they should have hug-a-thons rather than telethons because 'people would raise so much more money because no one wants to hug a telephone'… after that, they were finally out the door and in Santana's car, headed to the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Center park, though most people just called it Center Park. It was actually on the southern side of the town, but it was like the town had collectively come together and refused to call it South Park. It was where they usually went to go jogging since it had markers every quarter mile measured out around the lake. On the way there, they ate their muffins for energy, and Brittany talked about how excited she was for Ms. Lopez's sopapillas, among other things.

At the starting area of their run, while they were stretching in pairs of Brittany with Rachel and Santana with Quinn, Quinn explained how they would run. "Okay, Santana is going to be our run leader. She'll set the pace. What we're doing is called Steps, because it alternates," she said, watching her breath blow away in the early morning air. "Step one, step two, step one, step two. Step one is, you jog at a slower pace for a mile. Then, step two, you run a mile. It's simple, really. The difficult part comes in keeping your pace up while running for the entire mile. Turning to Rachel, she asked, "Are you sure you're up for this?" And she so wanted her to say no, that she didn't want to jog, that she wanted to be taken home. She reached down and felt the pill bottle in the hoodie of her pocket. She had stuffed cotton balls in it before they left to dampen the sound so Rachel wouldn't hear it and think Quinn was expecting her to break down.

"No, yeah, let's do this," Rachel said, excited to go running with them.

"Wait, Rachel," Brittany said. "You're not properly stretched out yet." With a hand on her good hand, she brought Rachel back over to her. "People think running is about just the legs. It's not. It's also about the back, the arms, the neck. Every time your foot hits the ground it sends shocks up through your body so your whole body needs to be loose to run well." While she was talking, she continued stretching Rachel out; rolling her neck, flexing her arms behind her back, moving her legs up and down. At one point, Brittany had Rachel's arms stretched behind her and a knee in her back, stretching out her shoulders. It also put her breasts prominently on display, and Quinn turned away blushing.

"So, did you want Brittany to help her stretch instead of you so you didn't have to touch her," Santana asked quietly, "or so you could sit back and watch her?"

To which Quinn responded with a "Fuck you" and let her own leg fall back to the ground.

After they were all stretched out and warmed up, they started on the first mile, jogging slowly. Everything was going fine, and Santana even had to remind Rachel to slow down and save her energy for the next mile. Rachel just seemed excited to show them what she could do, and even laughed at how slow of a jogging pace they were going. Quinn didn't say a word as Rachel rambled while they jogged. She'd promised herself she wouldn't talk to the girl until this was done or until she broke, whichever came first.

They reached the first mile marker, and suddenly they were running all out. She knew Rachel was struggling to keep up with the way her talking suddenly petered out, but Quinn didn't allow herself to glance over. She knew if she cared too much she couldn't do what needed to be done. 'Strong body, strong mind' she reminded herself. It was something Coach Sue stamped into them every practice, every day. It was actually a quote from Thomas Jefferson, 'A strong body makes the mind strong', just condensed into Sue Sylvester form. It didn't matter where it came from, though. It felt true.

Quinn listened to the smack, smack, smack of her sneakers hitting the pavement of the trail that ran alongside the lake. They passed few joggers out, even though it was premium jogging time and weather. Maybe being Christmas Eve had something to do with it. Maybe Quinn really was crazy. If so, she was only crazy for Rachel… okay, that came out wrong. She meant, for Rachel's sake. She was only doing the craziness for Rachel's sake. That's better.

She knew the pace Santana was setting by being slightly in front of all of them was for Rachel. It wasn't the pace that she, Brittany, and Santana could have run, but they were training nearly every other day in Cheerios. Rachel, while not out of shape, couldn't compete with them. Quinn silently thanked Santana for it.

After the first running mile, they were again jogging. They were all sweating and panting, and it was nice going at such a slower jogging pace. This time, Rachel didn't say anything about the pace, but she did go back to talking, though it was slower and less lively. She hadn't really heard Rachel talk this much since before everything. It was like Rachel couldn't deal with them not talking, and she had to fill the silence. It was kind of nice hearing her ramble on. Quinn wasn't even annoyed by it anymore. Maybe she had just missed it.

As they were finishing the second jogging mile, Rachel started slowing down, saying, "Wow, that was fun, real-"

"We're not done yet, Berry," Santana called back.

And then they were running again, the smack, smack, smack, smack of their feet on the pavement. And Rachel was doing really well, huffing and puffing beside them. Quinn wanted her to make it. She wanted to be wrong in thinking that Rachel would break. Looking over, though, she was able to guess everything passing through Rachel's mind by the look on her face. The worry that she wouldn't make it, that they'd leave her behind, that she wasn't good enough to keep up with them. That she couldn't keep up with them physically or mentally or socially. Quinn needed Rachel to keep up, to know that if she could accomplish this, then she could go back to school or face down the people mocking her. She needed Rachel to be tough, to be strong.

After another minute, Rachel started to slow down, and Quinn reached out to tap Santana on the arm. Santana slowed her pace, getting beside Rachel while Brittany and Quinn stayed in front where Rachel couldn't see their faces. "Come on, Berry," Santana yelled between breaths, and Quinn was again amazed by Santana's lung power. She could have given Rachel a run for her money. "You're not quitting on us already, are you?"

"I can't… I can't do this," Rachel huffed out. "It's too… too hard."

Santana got even louder. "You're not giving up, Berry! Move those legs, move that ass. Is this what they teach you in all those dance classes? All those vocal classes? That it's okay to give up? Because we'll leave your ass out here! Move it, bitch! MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!"

"Qui-inn," Quinn heard Rachel whining from behind her, but she ignored it. She had to. "I can't do… do this."

"Don't talk to Quinn!" Santana yelled. "This isn't about her! This is about you! You want someone to talk to, talk to me! You want someone to look at, look at me! Come on, quitter! Keep moving!"

And so it went for the rest of the mile. Every time Rachel would start to slow down, start to drag, Santana would be right beside her, yelling at her.

"Is this why you and Finn didn't work out? Because you're a quitter?"

"Must be why Shelby didn't want you, either."

"What would your dads think of their little quitter princess right now?"

"Maybe if you hadn't been such a quitter, Jesse wouldn't have turned on you."

As they finished the second running mile, they started on the third jogging mile, and all the insults stopped. They had moved down to an even slower jogging pace than before, giving Rachel a chance to rest up. Quinn made the mistake of looking behind her at one point and saw tears running down Rachel's cheeks, and it broke her heart seeing it. Knowing she put them there yet again. She hated herself so much sometimes, but she really did feel it was for Rachel's own good.

As they finished the third jogging mile and transitioned into the last running mile, Rachel didn't even act like they were finished as she had previously. She also did her best to keep up with them again, but after about a half mile she started going slower again, and Santana was again back beside her.

"Come on, Berry! Don't give up, you can do this! This is nothing! You're tougher than this! You're better than this!"

When that didn't work, Santana went back to cruel. It was her specialty, after all. And, whatever. Quinn may have hated herself. She may have hated Santana in those moments. Still, it was getting the job done. Rachel was keeping up with them.

"Maybe you deserve all those names, all those slushees, quitter."

"I get why you did it, quitter. Why you went for the knife. If I were as weak as you, I would have done it, too."

"You're probably wishing now that it would have worked, huh, quitter?"

Every single time Rachel started to falter, Santana was there with another horrible thing. About the suicide. About being replaced by Beth. About her and Finn breaking up. And every time, Rachel picked herself back up and started running harder and faster.

At the end of the last running mile, they transitioned into a fast walk. Brittany and Quinn found their spots beside Rachel and Santana respectively. Santana started to put her arm around Rachel and say, "Wow, great job, Berry," but was pushed off by Rachel.

"Fuck you, Santana!" Rachel screamed at her. Tears were pouring down her face mixing in with the mass amount of sweat that was rolling off her. They were all tired and sweaty, but Rachel looked the worst. "Just… fuck all of you!" And she kept on power walking along the lake, headed back towards the parking lot.

"Stay back, guys," Quinn said, and rushed to catch up with Rachel, muscles in her legs protesting. "Rachel," she said, pulling out a bottle of water. She didn't want to go for the pills yet. "Here, drink this."

"When I said, 'fuck all of you', I meant you, too, Quinn," Rachel said angrily, letting the bottle hang there in Quinn's hand as they walked. She knew if Rachel was capable of running away from her, she would have done it. "I knew it. I knew you three hated me. I should have seen this coming. At least it wasn't in front of the school, so that was a nice touch."

"We don't hate you, Rachel," Quinn said.

"Maybe you didn't hear any of the things Santana was saying to me, then," Rachel said.

"Good, yes, be mad at Santana, that's okay," Quinn said, "but Brittany and I-"

"You let it happen!" Rachel screamed. "You're supposed to be my friend and you let it happen!" This time she pushed her, and Quinn stumbled over her feet and tripped, falling to the pavement on her butt. "I'm done with you!"

And just like that, Quinn was back there in the choir room a year ago, hearing Finn yell the same words at her. "I'm done with you! I'm done with- with all of you!" The look of hurt on his face, the accusation hanging there in the air. It had been all Rachel's fault, and yet Quinn couldn't find it in herself to blame her. Every word she'd said to Rachel was true. She wasn't mad at her. She only did what Quinn was too afraid to do… tell the truth.

Quinn reached down to where her baby should have been, but there was only a damp sweatshirt. How could she forget that, even for a second? She wasn't there in the choir room. She was on her ass on the track around the lake at the park, and Rachel was walking away from her. Brittany and Santana were walking over, but Quinn held out a hand, keeping them at bay. She would fix this herself.

Quinn got off the ground, gingerly holding her right hip. She could already feel the oncoming bruise that would be forming. With a jog, she caught up to Rachel who was still walking quickly and matched her pace. After a few moments of silence, Quinn asked, "Are you mad?" Stupid question, sure, but she needed Rachel to talk.

Silence.

"Good. Be mad. Be angry. Yell and scream at me, but let's leave it all out here on the track."

When Rachel didn't respond, Quinn started again. "Do you know why I let Santana say all those things?" Again, no response. "Because I told her to say them." This time Rachel actually stopped and looked up at her, hurt, angry, sad, all at once. "You're so angry, Rachel, and I don't mean right now. You keep lashing out, yelling at your dads, or me, or pushing Brittany. I thought…" Quinn sighed. "I thought that if I gave you someone to hate, if I got Santana to push you, you could get it all out out here. That this could be your safe place to be angry, to hate, and then you wouldn't have as much inside anymore. It was stupid, and I'm sorry. I didn't think about you blaming Brittany and I for letting it happen. So, okay, be mad at me, but please don't take it out on Brittany. She's already mad at me for getting Santana to do this. That was the conversation this morning. Not about your present."

"You got her to say all that stuff to me?" Rachel asked, though it looked like the anger was draining out of her. "You told her it was… that it was okay to talk about… about my suicide attempt?"

"Yes," Quinn said, hanging her head. "I know this isn't going to help, but it's no worse than what you'll probably hear going back to school. I wanted you to build up kind of an immunity to it. Like, if it came from someone that you didn't hate as much, maybe that would make it easier to hear. Then, when you inevitably heard the same things at school, it wouldn't bother you as much."

"Why Santana?" Rachel asked. "Why not you or Brittany?"

"Can you really imagine Brittany saying any of that?" Quinn asked.

"No," Rachel conceded. "But you could."

And, okay, that hurt, but she was right. She could have said all of what Santana said and worse. Quinn was far better at it, and both Cheerios knew it. "But I couldn't say it to you," Quinn said finally. "I promised I'd be honest with you. If I called you a quitter or a loser or some other horrible thing, then I wouldn't be honest. I don't think you're any or those things, Rach."

"Oh," Rachel said. After a long silent minute of Rachel staring out over the lake while Quinn just stared at her, she finally said, "It still hurt."

"I know," Quinn said, wrapping an arm around Rachel's shoulders and pulling her into a side hug. She let herself relish the contact as Rachel sighed into the comfort. After a few moments, though, she pulled back. "Now, please, drink the damn water so I'll feel better, okay?"

"Okay," Rachel said, taking the water bottle from her. Then something seemed to occur to her. "Did you bring my pills?"

"I did," Quinn said, taking the bottle out of her pocket and holding it up so Rachel could see it. "I don't think you need one, though. Do you?"

"No," Rachel said, and this time she actually smiled. "I thought I did for a while, though."

"Me, too," Quinn admitted. "I wanted you to get it all out, though."

After another couple of minutes, of standing there and looking out across the water, Rachel said, "I still want to be mad at you. And Santana. But I get why you did it. I wish you had told me, though."

"I didn't think it would work if you knew," Quinn said. "Not this first time."

"First time?" Rachel asked. "I have to keep doing this?"

"If you want," Quinn said. "If you think it'll help. How do you feel right now?"

"Tired," Rachel said automatically. "But kind of peaceful. Like I sweated out all the feelings. Can you do that? Is that even a thing?"

"I always found running peaceful," Quinn said. "Except this summer. Santana and I were out here every morning doing the same thing while she 'motivated' me like she did you. Except it was all insults about the size of my ass and the sound of my thighs scraping together. Stuff like that."

"Is that how you knew she would do it for me?" Rachel asked.

"That, and it's how we weed out the Cheerios at the beginning of the season," Quinn said. "If they can't take the running and the insults, they definitely can't take Sue Sylvester and guys leering at them in their uniforms. There's a saying: strong body, strong mind. We Cheerios live by it."

Quinn reached out and took Rachel's hand, leading her down the path, this time at a brisk walk. She looked behind her to find Brittany and Santana catching up to them, when suddenly Rachel asked, "Do you think I would have made a good Cheerio?"

Quinn was taken aback at the question as images of Rachel in a Cheerios uniform popped into her head. The short skirt with those thighs peeking out between the pleats, those sexy bare arms wrapped around Quinn, those kissable shoulders, those… Jesus, woman, get a hold of yourself.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked again.

"Sorry, I was just…" Quinn said, unable to come up with anything besides 'drooling over you in a Cheerios uniform'. "Nothing. Anyway, you as a Cheerio? I think…" She paused this time and actually tried to think about it without just picturing Rachel in the uniform. "I think you'd actually be scary as a Cheerio. You're too driven, too focused. You would have ruled that school if you wanted to, but you wouldn't have been able to do what it takes to do it. Or to stay on top. You're too nice, like Brittany. I would have hated you, though. Or else been your best friend. I'm not sure which. I definitely would have wanted you on my side, though."

Rachel made a noncommittal noise, not really a response, but a reminder that she had heard Quinn, that she was listening. Quinn looked over to see Rachel deep in thought, so she stayed quiet, letting her think.

Eventually, Brittany and Santana made their way up to them, joining them but staying on Quinn's side and away from Rachel. "It's so pretty out here," Brittany said. "Sometimes me and San like to come out here and feed the ducks. Well, she doesn't, but she comes anyway."

"Britts," Santana said, almost sternly. "We talked about not telling people things we do together."

"I thought that just meant our sexy lady kisses," Brittany said, pouting. "I didn't know it meant other things, too. Sorry, Santi."

"Madre de dios, mi patita," Santana mumbled under her breath, looking over at Brittany. "Don't pout, Britts. It kills me to see it. It's fine, really. I guess they can know stuff about us. Just… just don't tell anyone else, okay?"

"Okay," Brittany said, reaching down and taking Santana's hand, kissing it, and holding it to her chest. "I didn't think you'd mind, anyway. It's sweet that you come with me to feed the ducks. And I thought since Rachel and Quinn were being all cute, that it was a sweet thing to share."

"We're being cute?" Quinn asked, looking over at Brittany who nodded and Santana who was doing her best to hold in a laugh. "How exactly are we being cute?"

"Well, you're holding hands," Brittany said, which caused Quinn to look down and realize she was still holding Rachel's hand. She had really just meant to grab it and pull her along walking. She hadn't even realized that she was still holding it. Hating doing it, Quinn let it go, stuffing her now empty hands in her pockets to avoid the temptation. She didn't dare look at Rachel to see her reaction. "And you're walking around the lake in the winter, talking and smiling. It's cute."

"Oh, well, we're- I mean, it's nothing," Quinn muttered.

"No," Santana said, smirking. "Britts right. It's cute."

Quinn looked past a smiling, nodding Brittany to glare at Santana. Well, fuck her. Two could play this game. "So, anyway, Britts, after breakfast, are you going over to see Artie? Didn't you say something about giving him his Christmas present today? Or was that tomorrow? I forget which."

Quinn watched as Santana withdrew her hand and folded her arms over her chest. Brittany gave a pout, but Santana just looked away so she turned it on Quinn, and then suddenly Quinn was feeling even more like the shitty person she was. "Tomorrow," Brittany said. "But I was going today to hang out with his family that's in town."

"That's… umm… that's cool," Quinn said, hating that she had done that. Why was she such a bitch sometimes?

They made their way back to Santana's car. They were about to get in when Rachel went over to Santana and surprise hugged her, before quickly releasing her. It was done so fast that Santana didn't even have a chance to get mad before Rachel was apologizing. "Sorry for that. And sorry for getting mad at you. I know you didn't mean any of it."

"It's cool," Santana said, wiping her arms like she could actually wipe the hug off of her. "Well, not the hugging. I warned you about that shit. But the other stuff, yeah. And I'm pretty sure you getting mad at me was the point, Berry. I look forward to doing it again. As long as you don't stay mad, it's kind of fun to make you cry."

Rachel looked horrified, and rushed to get in the backseat with Quinn. She buckled in and automatically put her head down on Quinn's shoulder and closed her eyes. Santana adjusted her rearview mirror and caught them, shooting Quinn a wink that caused her to blush before Santana was out of her eye line again.

On their way back to Santana's house, for showers and sopapillas, Quinn had to wonder if this was what her life was becoming. These three other girls, confused feelings, bitching back and forth, hurting each other, helping each other. She loved Brittany and Santana like sisters, like she did Frannie. And Rachel? Rachel was some other issue all her own. Quinn felt herself being drawn closer to Rachel, caring more about her well-being, more about her in general… and she hated it.