.
God is a place you will wait for the rest of your life
.

The following week, her focus is kind of broken. She keeps thinking it's because she's shell-shocked, going back to school, no longer spending her days making Rachel smile and her nights curled up with her in bed. She doesn't want to admit that she spent the train ride back to New Haven trying not to cry, because it was stupid, she kept telling herself, to cry over leaving Rachel. Foolish.

Her mother probably would attribute her unfocused state it to spring fever, and yeah, the weather is getting nicer. She's certainly not the only student feeling restless after Spring Break. Many eyes are wandering out the windows in class, and students excitedly start ditching their winter coats at the first sign of warmth.

But it's not that, not really. It's partly that she can't stop thinking about Rachel, topless and straddling her, the sounds she made when Quinn slipped her nipple into her mouth, the way Quinn's heart had pounded and her knees had almost buckled when she came in the shower in Rachel's apartment.

She's also feeling a little conflicted. She'd just spent almost two weeks with Rachel, and hadn't gone home to visit her mother at all. Her mother is offering to fly her home for Easter weekend, but she's pretty sure she'll be declining her offer. She has schoolwork she needs to work on.

That guilt gets to the point that one night at dinner with her friends, she gripes, "I wish Spring Break had been a week later. It's not fair that we have school over Easter weekend."

Lucas chuckles a little, then squints, "Oh. Wait. Sorry."

"What?" Quinn asks.

"I guess I thought you were joking. Pretending to be pissed about something that just inconveniences the majority religion?" He can't quite suppress an eye roll, and Stephanie snorts.

"No," Quinn says carefully, "If I didn't have so much to do this weekend, I'd go home and see my mother."

"It's a shame you couldn't go see her over break," Stephanie smirks. Quinn's been slowly trying to figure out how to tell her friends that she's dating Rachel, but so far just Stephanie and Sean know, and Stephanie seems to enjoy watching her squirm in moments like this.

But Quinn doesn't respond, so Lucas nods, "Ah, yeah. It is nice when school gives us religious holidays so we can take some time to enjoy family."

Quinn feels embarrassed, and Lulu notices, "I think Easter itself might actually be pretty important to Quinn," she says mildly.

"No way," Lucas's eyes widen, "Shit, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a dick, I just…forget sometimes that smart people can be religious."

"I'm not sure how you wanted me to take that, but I'm not flattered," Quinn raises an eyebrow.

Lucas mutters something she can't quite hear, and Stephanie asks, "Wait, you're religious?"

"Well, yeah," Quinn affirms awkwardly. She'd been hiding evidence of her beliefs since she came to school because she didn't want people to think she was homophobic, not because she thought people would think she was ridiculous.

"Woah, I'm sorry," Stephanie looks abashed, "I've never meant to say anything to offend you."

"You…haven't, I don't think. Why are you all acting like I just told you I'm an alien or something?"

"I just didn't really think you would be," Lucas repeats, this time without implying that her beliefs are stupid. "I…kinda thought most people our age were outgrowing religion, honestly."

"I know I did," Stephanie pipes up, "I'm a lapsed Catholic," she clarifies.

Rob smiles a little, "That's like me. I'm so secular a Jew I'm pretty much agnostic. But like Catholic, the Jewish label stays with you all your life."

"I can understand outgrowing church, but not outgrowing God," Sean cuts in.

"You're religious, too?" Lucas sounds surprised, "But you're a science guy!"

"I don't see the conflict," Sean answers steadily, "And no, I wouldn't call myself religious. But I do believe in God, as in some sort of benevolent creator. That's about it."

Quinn glances curiously at Lulu, since she sort of defended her earlier. Lulu smiles apologetically, "I'm an atheist, too. I was never raised in a church. My parents both dabbled in Buddhism, but never seriously, and never made sure my brothers and I were believers."

Quinn twists her mouth, "I mean. It's not like I'm going to church every Sunday, or even praying every day. But I do have beliefs. I don't know. I know I'm less religious than I used to be, but…" she trails off. In her mind, she can hear her father ranting about the poison a liberal arts education puts into the minds of young people. How destructive it is, to learn about things God never intended people to know. She feels a little sick to her stomach. Why on earth was she entertaining the thought of reconnecting with him?

But a worse pang. What if he was, in a way, right? She didn't feel as close to God as she used to…because honestly, she hadn't even really been thinking about God since she started college. There was one time, her first month of school, that she considered joining a Christian organization, but the briefest research and a secretive scoping out of the meeting showed her that they were the kinds of conservative Christians she no longer felt comfortable around. They weren't Sam or Mercedes or, heck, even Joe.

Which reminded her, again, that she'd been neglecting her friendship with these people. Though she missed Mercedes the most. Mercedes, who had been the strongest example of Christian love and charity at a time when Quinn, bitter and pregnant and hurt and scared, only saw Christian fury, vengeance, an angel with a flaming sword…

It bothered her, now that she knew, that almost all her school friends weren't religious. Not in the way it may have when she was younger, where she might pray that they would know God and accept Jesus. It bothered her because it made her feel exposed. Different. Ignorant, somehow. Something she was always so sure about was cast into doubt. She'd known of people who weren't believers, sure, but in the abstract, as ignorant, lost people. But these were people she liked, some who she respected. People who had clearly given some thought to their beliefs, and dismissed hers as insufficient.

The conversation ends awkwardly, as Rob gamely pushes them onto a new topic, but Quinn isn't really paying attention.

On Saturday, the day before Easter, she calls Mercedes.

"Hey, girl!" Mercedes answers excitedly, "Are you in Lima for Easter?"

"No," Quinn answers regretfully, "Too much school work."

"That's too bad," Mercedes laments, "I would've loved to try to figure out a time we could meet to catch up."

"Me, too," Quinn responds, "How's your family? How's Sam?"

She lets Mercedes catch her up a little bit on her life. Her parents are good. Her brother is busy. Sam is so good and so sweet and neither of them can wait until he graduates from high school.

But Mercedes notices Quinn seems distracted, "Something's eating you, I can tell." She's direct about it, of course, "What's wrong, and can I help?"

"Yeah. Well, maybe. Mercedes, are you still religious?"

"What kind of question is that?" Mercedes laughs. "I'm a Christian," she affirms.

"I guess I just…I don't know. So many people I know aren't. I'm feeling less and less like I fit in with other religious people. I don't know."

"How so?" Mercedes asks, concern in her voice.

Quinn hesitates, then manages to sound relatively normal when she says, "Part of it is my sexuality."

"Oh?" Mercedes sounds intrigued now. "Tell me more."

"Please don't treat this as gossip," Quinn pleads.

"I'm not," Mercedes reassures, "I'm curious enough just for me."

"Well. I'm gay. And I'm dating Rachel."

"Rachel? Rachel Rachel? Our Rachel?"

"Yeah," Quinn is smiling now, "Our Miss Berry."

"I had no idea she was gay!"

"She's not. She's bisexual. And leans toward men."

"Well, now, that makes a whole lot more sense," Mercedes sounds calmer now, as if her world temporarily had tilted out of orbit with the news that she could have missed something like Rachel Berry being gay. "Well, I'm proud of you," Mercedes says, "It can't have been easy for you this year, coming out and everything."

"It hasn't been. I'm still working on it."

"Well, if you've got yourself a girl, it sounds like you've been working on it pretty well. Seriously, I'm proud."

"Are you…surprised?"

Mercedes chuckles, "Honestly, not really. I hadn't really thought about it, but when you said it, it just fell right into place, like, yeah. There we go. Quinn is gay."

Quinn smiles, then, and wishes she'd thought to tell Mercedes about this sooner. She's been better than almost anyone at just making Quinn feel normal.

Mercedes continues, "Okay, I can get that, you feeling distant from the church because of that. I've never quite been able to convince Kurt that Christianity isn't the enemy, it's ignorance and bigotry."

"I know that," Quinn puts in, "But I mean, I think that's only part of it. It seems like the more I focus on school, and now Rachel, the less I think about God. I'm not making time for prayer, or church."

"And you know, that's okay," Mercedes says. "Honestly, if I had been unable to come to Lima for Easter, I might not go to church."

"Really?" Quinn is surprised.

"I mean, by all means, find a church if that's what you feel like you're missing. My granddaddy always the first things you should do when you move somewhere new is find a church and a charity organization, and you'll be involved in your community. But we're both in school, and I'm working, and there are lots of opportunities to do good work and find a community in school. But, also, school means we focus on other things, too," Mercedes continues, "I really haven't even tried to find a church in LA that I like. I have too much else to do. That's not a big deal. I may not be going to church, but I haven't turned my back on God. And I'm sure you haven't either." Quinn digests that for a moment, then Mercedes continues, "Church is really just a community. A chance to build a community. That's what I like about it. That, and the choir. It's nice to pray together, it's nice to hear the sermons, it's nice to learn more, but…it's not essential to loving God. I love my church in Lima because of the people, and it's hard to imagine I might find another great community to join somewhere else. I'm sure I could if I looked, but…I'm not lacking in support or friendship right now. Quinn, at this point in my life, I'm a big proponent of spiritual but not religious. I'm still a very spiritual person. My relationship with God and with Jesus is very personal, and I feel His presence in my life. I know I've been blessed, and so I praise God. Even if these days I'm not doing it by singing in the church choir every week, but with just being me. With my joy, with my peace, with all the good I see every day, I'm praising Him. But religion? I don't exactly trust that as much anymore. It's inconsistent because it's run by humans. My spirituality is only between God and me. That's all it is. Trust God, and trust yourself. You don't need a church full of other people to affirm what you know to be true in your heart."

"…You're right," Quinn answers after a pause. "Spiritual but not religious. I guess I get it. There isn't a wrong way to love God."

"Unless you're hurting yourself or somebody else, nope. Just be you, Quinn. Make time for God in your daily life, when it feels right. Don't let anyone else tell you when and how to worship. And don't let anybody tell you it's wrong to have a little faith. It's not for everybody, but it's right for you."

"It is. And it's important. Thank you, Mercedes. It's appropriate, that this is happening around Easter, huh? Guess I'll be celebrating the return of Jesus in a few ways."

"Anytime, girl. But no, go celebrate Easter by thanking God that spring is coming. That's really what it's all about, because Jesus never left you."

Quinn laughs a little. Mercedes is right.

And somewhere in her heart, a weight is lifted, and a door is opened.

She can have God, her education, and Rachel. She knew she could, she just wanted someone else to tell her she could. And yet again, Mercedes is here to help her pick up the pieces when her faith shattered around her.

It isn't a rebirth so much as a renewal. And that feels like spring to her.

.
And still I try to lure you into my own hurricane
.

Luckily for him, his birthday is on a Sunday, which means it's one of the only days he doesn't necessarily have something to do.

For Mike, he would just be happy to spend the day in his apartment, enjoying solitude, but according to Kate and Sandra, that is absolutely not going to happen, and they're prepared to use extreme force to get him to party.

"Come on, Mike! We're on the home stretch of this semester, spring is basically here, and it's your birthday! What better reasons to celebrate even exist?" Kate asks, in her almost belligerent way.

"We're college students. We don't need a reason to celebrate," Mike points out reasonably, which makes Sandra laugh and Kate roll her eyes.

"Still, buddy," Sandra concedes, "We like partying with you. So let's celebrate!"

Before Mike can really say much more, they're dragging him to their apartment, where they already have snacks and drinks and drinks and a few cheap decorations. Though one decoration is a big inflatable kind of shapeless dog.

"You're year of the dog!" Sandra crows at him, and the two girls start laughing triumphantly, clearly pleased with their decorative choice.

Mike grins, too. He has always kind of identified with and liked dogs. Moreso than the goat that is his western zodiac symbol. Still, "You two are idiots," he tells them affectionately.

"We know!" Kate chirps back.

"Good, as long as that's clear," Mike answers before hugging them both.

And before long, more guests are arriving, more friends from school. As long as they aren't too obnoxious, it tends to be a non-issue if they party in their building, so it's a little rowdy when Mike's phone starts buzzing in his pocket. He's been fielding happy birthday texts from high school friends for much of the afternoon, but this is a persistent buzzing. A call.

He's immediately smiling a little, because, having already talked to his parents in the morning, he's pretty sure that means this must be Tina.

He moves to go into Kate and Sandra's bedroom, closing the door behind him. It's a quieter space, so he can actually hear, and he answers the phone. "Hello?" he asks, even though he knows it's her.

"Hi, Mike," Tina says, "Happy birthday!"

"Thank you." He feels warm and content, and not because he's been drinking. He honestly hasn't had that much to drink

"Are you have a good birthday?" Tina asks.

"Yeah. My friends threw me a party."

"That explains why I think I hear bass beats through the phone."

"Heh. Yeah," he agrees, "That would be why."

They're in a pretty comfortable place right now. They hadn't talked anymore about what happened between Tina and Brittany, and for the most part, Mike has forgotten about it. He doesn't like to think about it, so he doesn't. It's honestly not that hard for him to ignore things that bother him. Tina had given him some time to get over himself, he'd texted her that he loved her about a week later, and since then, they'd fallen back into their routine of daily texts and semi-weekly phone calls.

"So, how was Regionals?" Mike finally asks, because they haven't had a chance to talk about it. The previous weekend was Easter, and Tina was busy because she'd agreed to join Sam at the Hudson-Hummel house for a big, long meal; Burt was home, and he and Carole were so sad that neither Finn nor Kurt could be there that they'd asked Sam to invite his friends. Blaine and Artie had showed up, and even Unique made an appearance later, after having to appear as Wade at her own family's event. But because of that, Mike and Tina hadn't had a chance to do anything but text that weekend. The weekend before had been Regionals, and Tina had indicated that she wanted to talk to Mike about it.

Tina sighs a little into the phone. "I guess I could use some advice," she admits.

"Of course," Mike encourages, now trying harder to block out the sounds of partying coming through the thin bedroom door, more for his attention span (which seems to want to wander at the moment) than anything else.

"Remember the end of last year? Last school year, I mean?" Tina asks.

"Which part?" Mike chuckles lightly, because a lot happened then.

"The part where I had that weird…dream. And told myself that this year was going to be my year. I was going to be a Senior, and I was going to rule the school."

"I don't remember you putting it quite in those terms," Mike says thoughtfully.

"Maybe not, but I had every intention of being a leader."

"Yeah," Mike remembers that.

"Well, with the way Regionals went, I'm realizing I'm just following again this year, and I don't know what to do," she sounds distraught.

"How so?" Mike asks.

"Well, I had wanted to try to figure out what to do for Regionals, and I was struggling to find a time that the Leadership Board could meet, which was hard, because we were all involved in a lot of things. Most of our evenings were taken up by play and musical rehearsals, and then there was Sam's work schedule, and my piano lessons, and Brittany's dance classes and things to work around." Mike nods, still listening, even though he knows she can't see him, it feels right. "So I'm struggling to get this all together, and I know we're all busy, and then one Saturday morning Sam calls us all and tells us he wants to meet, and we all get out of bed and meet at his place and he tells us he's got something for Regionals, and starts playing this original song he and Puck wrote."

"That's great!" Mike enthuses.

"I guess," Tina says darkly, "We knew we wanted to do original songs, we just hadn't been able to get all together to work on any. Next thing I know, Blaine is telling us about an original song he had run by Karofsky and Merry and wanted to sing for us, and Brittany and Artie had started writing one together during one of their tutoring sessions. When it came down to it, everyone had started independently working on this except me!"

Mike frowns, "But that's not your fault," he tries.

"I know it isn't. It's because I was trying to play by the rules this whole time, was trying to schedule this impossible meeting to try to get everyone together to make Regionals happen. I would be fine if these people had all worked on songs together—if we'd had a meeting and agreed to divvy up the songs, and if I had helped, too."

"So…you're angry that you didn't help?"

"I'm disappointed," she sighs, "In me, and in them, for not including me. I was humiliated. I guess I follow rules too much to be a true leader. Real leaders always seem to be pushing back against them."

"That's not necessarily true," Mike thinks about it, and he knows there are great leaders that followed rules. Maybe just a different set of rules…it's hard to think right now. He wants to give her an example.

"Maybe," she concedes, sounding bitter. "I just…I don't know how to not just fall by the wayside and watch things go on around me."

"I think you're putting too much pressure on yourself. You're starring in the musical, and have a role in the play. You helped prepare for Sectionals. Who cares if the rest of the Leadership Board took the reins on this one? You'll have another chance with Nationals."

"I guess," she says again, but she sounds a little happier now. "And it did turn out well. Our original songs were good. And Puck actually showed up to watch us perform the song he helped write, so that was nice. And we won."

"So you get a chance with Nationals," Mike reassures. "Don't beat yourself up about it. It worked because you guys are a team. Just keep asking for what you want. That's what's important: what you want."

"Okay," Tina reluctantly answers. "Yeah. Okay. You're right."

"Of course I am."

"I'd better let you get back to your party. Happy birthday, okay? I wish your present had arrived on time, but it should be there tomorrow."

"Thank you for calling. I love you."

"Love you, too. Have fun tonight!"

But he leaves the bedroom, feeling the frown on his features. He feels bad for Tina, and like he wasn't really all that much help, but…it also didn't seem to be as big a deal to him as it was to her. She had gotten into several schools she'd applied to, so it didn't really matter how well she led people in high school, did it? And maybe she was better at following. People who could follow good directions well were also important. It didn't make her an automaton.

Kate comes over and slings an arm around his shoulders, "You're looking down."

Mike shakes his head, effectively scattering his thoughts, "I'm really not." Still, Kate jerks her chin at Sandra, over by the kitchen island, who begins to pour Mike another drink.

"Then why the long face?" she asks, grabbing his chin and pulling it downward.

He bats her hand away with a little amused snort, "Nothing. Just a semi-serious conversation with Tina." He accepts the drink Sandra hands him.

Kate drops her arm and looks daggers at him, "On your birthday? Man, that Tina is such a drag."

"She really isn't," Mike protests, but sees Sandra frowning as well. He sighs heavily, "She's not. She's great. She's just stressed because graduation is only a few months away."

"Oh, please," Kate scoffs, but Mike is already embarrassed, for his sake and for Tina's.

He reminds himself that just because their conversations have been more serious lately, just because their relationship hasn't been entirely sunshine and roses, that it doesn't mean anything is wrong. He still loves her. She still loves him. It's just hard to be living in different worlds right now.

"Enough about her," Sandra says bracingly, "You up for some Mario Kart?"

"Of course!" Mike grins, and for the rest of the night, his two friends successfully keep the frown lines off his forehead.

It's a good birthday, after all.

.
My responsibility has found a place
.

It's been a long time coming, and it's time for Unique to finally begin making daily appearances at McKinley.

At least, that's how she phrases it. Blaine thinks of it as coming out, because that's a concept he's familiar with. Still, it hasn't been easy.

Unique had had a great time at the gay bar, dancing with the straight boy who was there with his friends. However, she'd declined giving the boy her number, and once he learned she was underage, he had rescinded his interest. She was "still hot," he said, but he wasn't into jailbait. Though she had admitted to Blaine that if he had been closer to her age, she's not sure what she would have done. She has no idea how to field romantic interest, because she has never dated presenting as a woman or as a man.

Soon after that, her mother finally convinced her father that she should be seeing a therapist to help her prepare to transition. So she was in therapy, which had boosted her confidence.

One snag had been the musical. On the first day, everyone was surprised to go through their script to find that Nicely-Nicely had been changed so that all his pronouns were now feminine ones. Blaine had noticed Wade fuming throughout the rehearsal, and as soon as she could, she pulled Artie aside. Blaine had followed.

"Why are you changing the script for me?" she had asked bluntly.

Artie looked shocked and awkward, "I…thought you might appreciate it?"

"Maybe he thought you'd be more comfortable?" Blaine suggested helpfully.

"No. Listen. Just no. I would love to play a female role someday. I have no problem with gender neutral casting, or gender bending characters in general in classic plays and musicals. But this? You just did this to make me happy with my part. And I already told you, I am happy. Reasonably. I've been playing male all my life, I can play a flamboyant male tenor, no problem. I don't think I can play an inexplicably female gangster interrupting a boys club comfortably, especially not when the entire musical is about that tension between the genders. If you're going to have female gangsters, fine. Just don't single me out by making me the only one."

"Oh. Well. I can…"

"You've already cast the play," Wade insisted, arms folded, "Don't change your gangsters. Just don't single me out because my gender is different. Someday I'll show the world that a transwoman can be a star. But I've also accepted that I'm not there yet. I don't have the body or the voice or the real experience of being a woman out in the world yet. So, again, Artie. I'll play a guy in your musical." She smiles, just a little. "I appreciate the gesture, I really do, but I don't need it. I'll steal the show even playing the wrong gender, just like I do daily by being my fabulous self."

It was hard to argue with that, and Blaine felt embarrassed for Artie, and uncertain about himself, because he's sure he would've had the same impulse as Artie to fix the script for Wade. He wonders if that says something bad about him.

Over Easter had been hard for Wade, but it had also strengthened her resolve. Her extended family, who hadn't spoken to her in a few years, had agreed to allow her to come to the Easter celebration, but only if she came "as a man." Her parents had pleaded with them, but they stood firm, and in the end, it was up to her. She had decided to go, dressed in masculine clothes. It had been miserable, but she had missed her family, especially her grandmother. In the end, her parents had taken her home early, she'd put on a beautiful Easter dress and gone over to Sam's house to celebrate with her friends. Her parents had apologized when she got home, for even giving her the choice to put herself in that situation, and had promised that next time, they would refuse to attend if the extended family wouldn't accept Unique for who she was.

That had done it. She had support from her parents, support from her friends, support from a therapist, and one morning, Blaine goes over to her house early to pick her up, and drives her to school, so she won't have to take the bus.

It isn't exactly a picnic. Blaine had gone to Figgins the day before and threatened involvement with the ACLU (something he'd heard from Rachel worked quite well) if the gender identities of trans students were not respected. He supposes there had been a campus-wide email or something, because Unique reports that none of her teachers seemed surprised when she came to class dressed as her beautiful feminine self, and gave them a note asking them to use female pronouns. Most just don't call on her that day, maybe afraid of messing up, maybe even secretly repulsed by her, and those who did seem awkward, but it isn't awful.

Blaine ensures that a member of the "gay secret society" as Brittany called it, is always with Unique when she walks between classes, because all of them are terrified by the possibility of violence. She gets a lot of pointed "Why are you wearing a dress?" questions from people, who never seem to know what to say when she simply responds with, "Because I'm a woman." A few people call her a freak, but she ignores them. Blaine's going to make sure she always has someone with her until summer vacation, and hopefully help her build a support system at school; Merry has offered to introduce Unique to her friends. Adam in Glee club says he'll definitely tell his friends to step off. Brittany accompanies her to the girl's room once, which is fine, though probably because some of the girls in there hurry out. And Merry, timid Merry, seems eager to fight to defend Unique, which is adorable because she herself doesn't have the courage to be fully out yet (though, Blaine thinks, anyone with eyes could tell because of her fashion sense…).

All in all, it hasn't been so bad, and for the first time in awhile, Blaine feels like he's done something good for someone.

Because going to the gay bar with Karofsky? He still doesn't know how good that was.

When they had talked afterwards, Karofsky thanked Blaine for giving him the opportunity to meet his boyfriend in a safe space. Blaine had accepted the thanks grudgingly, then asked, "So…the meeting went well?"

"Yeah. We're going to meet up again soon, for dinner. A more private date, you know?"

"Where?"

Karofsky eyed him. "Up near where he lives."

"Dave, you should…be careful."

"I am being careful," he'd huffed, "I'm not afraid of this guy, he's my boyfriend!"

"I know, but he's…" Blaine had trailed off.

"Will you stop judging him based on how old he is? He's a good guy, and I like older men. Hell, I could be dating someone a lot older, this age gap isn't a big deal."

"You're in completely different stages of your life!" Blaine tries to reason.

"And we're willing to work through that. I lost my football scholarship because I got cold feet. I don't regret it, really. I want college to be more than just sports. But Henry is willing to help me pay for college."

"Oh my god. Dave. You can't be serious."

"What?"

"You can't date a guy just because he'll give you money for college! It's basically prostitution!"

"It's not. It's how relationships work. People support each other. And yeah, maybe it's a little soon. I'm thinking about telling him I'll take out a loan for the first semester or two, just to make sure we're as well-matched as we think we are before I ask him to support me. But if he wants to…what am I supposed to do? Say no to college?"

The whole conversation had just given Blaine a headache, and he'd tried not to do anything that would just flat-out piss off Karofsky, because he still wants to try to be a help to the guy. But he has to admit, this isn't something he's been through. He can help the guy with coming out and being out and what it means to be gay, but…dating older guys? Navigating the kind of relationship where finances and lots of money get tied up in it?

He just doesn't know. They haven't talked a whole lot about it since.

Still, they do talk. He knows that Karofsky knows he can come to him if there are any problems, if he starts being unsure about Henry. Of course, he reminded Karofsky that he has to be safe, when he and his boyfriend do start having sex (he honestly doesn't know, and doesn't want to know, how far they've gone). He wishes he could grab Henry by the neck and tell him that he'd better not screw up this young guy's future. That he'd better not be leading him on just to get access to an inexperienced virgin to manipulate.

Being this kind of confidant, though, is what he really likes. Not the way Kurt likes it. Kurt likes it because he loves gossip. He loves knowing what's going on in people's lives because he feels like he has power over them. At least, that's always been Blaine's perspective about gossip. No, Blaine likes knowing about people's lives because it helps him connect with them. It builds trust. And Blaine likes people to trust him. He likes people. Of course, he likes leading people. Being the center of attention. Those things are nice, too, but he isn't seeking to have power over people with those roles. He wants to be a good example, to coax people to do better.

He supposes the big difference between him and Kurt is that he doesn't need to have power over people to feel secure. He doesn't really know what that says about either of them.

.
And I'm ashamed of running away from nothing real
.

She figures, after she almost got married in high school, there's not much she can tell her fathers that scares her.

She almost told them during Passover. They'd phoned a few times that week, because they knew she was lonely without a family Seder to attend. And although Rachel knew the news that she had a girlfriend wasn't going to "ruin" Passover in any capacity, she still had been reluctant to break the news. It didn't feel like the right time.

There was a part of her, too, that felt guilty for not telling her fathers sooner. For not telling them before she had a girlfriend. At the time, she felt like she had valid reasons for not telling them—she thought she'd never have a girlfriend, so her sexual attraction to women bordered on inappropriate information that her parents didn't need to know. But now, she's worried the news will hurt them. She knows that if nothing else, they were always sure they were the people she could come to if she suspected she was queer. After a certain point, however, they had seemed pretty convinced she was straight, and stopped giving her the little talks about how she could talk to them about "certain things."

The more she dwells on it, the scarier it gets.

And she keeps thinking, about how unsurprised Santana and Kurt were. Would she tell her fathers and find them surprised, or completely expecting it?

A part of her feels dumb for not expecting it herself. But it was scary. She'd had that thought that there might be…potential with Quinn, and had backed off.

Why?

Had she seen the same things in Quinn that everyone else had seen and told herself she was wrong because it was easier than admitting she might like to do something about it? Was she that terrified of her own queerness?

The more she prods, the more she thinks it's probably true. And then she feels like a coward, like a terrible human, that she almost let such an opportunity slip by, that she almost allowed their entire friendship to shatter because it was easier to pine for Finn, away at boot camp, than to admit that what was right in front of her might be better.

But at the same time, she thinks she can forgive herself, because if she's honest, women terrify her a little.

Not that men weren't scary. But she was more used to them. She lived with men all her life, she dated men. Finn was, for the most part, pretty easygoing. She feared him breaking her heart, but a part of her always knew he would. That's why marrying him so young had been so appealing. It would be harder for him to break her heart so easily that way. It wouldn't be something he could do with a single sentence in a school hallway.

Men were scary, but she felt like she knew how to handle them. Women were another matter entirely.

She really didn't have many female friends growing up. She didn't really have many friends, period, but she had always felt the lack of female friends more poignantly. And when she reached high school, and her peers began to transform into women, they were scary. All the women around her were vicious and made her uneasy. Sue Sylvester, a firestorm in a red track suit. Brittany, deceptively placid on the outside, hiding apparent amorality. Santana, fury incarnate. Even Mercedes, who couldn't be bothered to even consider Rachel her equal.

Shelby, who gave her a mother and then snatched her away, so quickly.

Quinn. Who she longed for in ways she couldn't quite fathom, and who kept shoving her away, after brief moments when she would reveal a sliver of vulnerability that intrigued Rachel all the more.

Of course, not all women were so intimidating. Ms. Pillsbury had been sweet, if a little off-putting. When Coach Bieste came to the school, she'd had a great mix of a big heart and a strong will, from what Rachel saw of her. She'd had relatively friendly female dance teachers and vocal instructors, but her need to impress them made her vulnerable to them.

Most women in her life made her feel vulnerable.

That's why, she thinks, she'd been so afraid to love them. From her perspective, men might hurt her out of heat, anger. Women like Quinn, or Shelby, might do so while being completely cold.

Opening herself up to a woman could leave her more broken than a man. That was the real terror. That only a woman could truly break her heart.

But she does have feelings for Quinn. Strong feelings, feeling that still terrify her. She can't stop thinking about Quinn being afraid that someday Rachel will realize that she's not romantically attracted to her, because the same thing terrifies her. The thought that she might wake up one day and decide that what she's feeling is deep friendship, not romance…she doesn't think either of them would ever recover if that happened. And she knows they'd never be friends again.

It's all relatively moot, now, because she has opened herself up. Quinn has hurt her, unintentionally, while trying to work through her own complicated feelings. Rachel can forgive her. Quinn makes her happy, when she's here. When she's not, Rachel just aches for her.

She needs to tell her fathers about this new part of her life.

She calls them, one evening, a bit after Passover ends.

"Hey, baby-girl," her daddy answers. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Is Dad there?"

"Sure is. You want to talk to him?"

"I want to talk to you both. Put me on speakerphone?"

He does, and she hears her dad greeting her. She lets them tell her about how they bought a new lamp over the weekend, lets Daddy tease her again about how they're going to have to empty out her room to make space for all the antiques Dad keeps buying. They laugh, as always.

Until Rachel says, "I have something to share with you."

"What is it?" Dad sounds eager, "A song?"

"Did you get that part in the opera?" Daddy asks, sounding just as excited.

Rachel frowns, because she hadn't gotten the part, and she'd barely thought about it. It hadn't been a crushing defeat; she had been relieved. She supposes that's how she knows, now, that she should not have accepted the part had she won it. That Quinn was right, and she was interested for all the wrong reasons.

Quinn was right about a lot of things. Rachel hoped she was right about the fact that they should try to make them work.

"No, I didn't get the part, but that's okay, because I've got a small part in a student musical. It goes on just before the semester ends." She hadn't been optimistic about this tryout either, and honestly, had barely given it any thought, focused as she was on the possibility of landing the lead in Amahl and the Night Visitors.

"Maybe we can make it up for this one," Dad sounds hopeful.

"I would love it if you came!" Rachel gushes. They had all been disappointed that they could come to her other shows.

"Well, what's the word, then?" Daddy asks.

"I wanted to let you both know about a rather important change that's occurred in my life." There's a pause, and she's sure they're imagining the worst. She can almost see the glance they just exchanged.

"What's that?"

"I have a girlfriend."

"A…a what?"

"Girlfriend, Daddy. And not like a female friend. A romantic interest."

There's a moment of silence, and then her dad says, "Well. This is a surprise."

"Is it?" she asks, frowning.

"We just never had any idea you were attracted to women!" her daddy explains. "We think it's great, of course!" he adds hastily, "We just want you to be happy."

"I am," Rachel nods, "We are very happy together. Especially physically together. Oh god, by which I don't mean sexually, I mean being in the same place, because we're long-distance," she rambles quickly.

She hears one of her fathers snort, "Very informative, thank you," Dad says dryly.

"So what's she like?" Daddy wants to know.

"She's…Quinn Fabray."

There's a moment of silence again, and then a chuckle. "Quinn, huh?"

"Yes."

"Well…that's less of a surprise."

"What do you mean?"

"That girl has set off my gaydar since the first time I laid eyes on her," Dad says conspiratorially.

"I'm glad it's her," Daddy cuts in, "I feel like she'd be very good for you."

"She is."

"Good. Well, you're happy, sweetheart?"

"Yes."

"Are you having any trouble…being yourself?"

It's a weird question, but she understands what her dad means. "I am adjusting to seeing myself as bisexual. It's not easy, but it feels right."

"Good," Daddy encourages, "Too many bisexuals aren't out. Be out! Be proud! Be yourself, baby."

"I'll try," Rachel answers, feeling a tightening in her stomach as she thinks about coming out at school, or on Broadway. She's supposed to go with Jesse to a party to mingle and network with some of the people he knows soon, and she doesn't know how she's going to tell him about Quinn, much less how to be open about having a girlfriend in general.

"And be careful," Dad says, "Whether with men, women, whoever, romance can be risky."

There's a lump in her throat. "I understand."

"But have fun!" her daddy interjects, "But yeah, be careful. But most of all, have fun!"

She's confused, "Okay. Thank you."

They disconnect the call soon afterwards, and though she thinks their reaction was fine, it was certainly over the top. Would they react this way to a new boyfriend? Are they reacting this way because she's dating a girl, or because she's dating Quinn? They know, for instance, that she and Quinn used to fight. She doesn't think they know to what extent they used to fight, but they know Quinn has hurt her before. Are they worrying about that?

She feels a little relieved that they know. But even more stressed out at their conflicting advice.

It really shouldn't be such a big thing. Should it?

.
All she needs is therapy
.

She thinks maybe it's finally time she tells her therapist that she's gay.

It's a topic they've managed to avoid because she has so many other issues. Beth. Her family. Her guilt. Her mild depression (at least an improvement over the postpartum depression she battled for what felt like half of high school). It's taken her awhile to trust her therapist. As with anyone, she's careful how vulnerable she makes herself to her. Which is why she still turns to friends to deal with a lot of issues that pop up for her. Also, because she hates to dwell on something for days until she can meet with her therapist. It's often faster to just talk to a friend. She knows her therapist has told her she can always call, but…she won't. It's hard enough for her pride to just go to the therapist.

Walking into the counseling office is always the part that makes her feel most exposed. She finds herself ducking her head instinctively, hoping she won't see anyone she knows and that no one will see her. She signs in automatically and takes a seat in the small waiting area, always avoiding eye contact. The people waiting always display various levels of anxiety or lethargy, and she usually grabs a magazine at random and flips through it.

One of the doors to a close-by office opens, and Quinn looks up without thinking as a girl walks toward the desk to check out.

Quinn recognizes her instantly.

It's Stephanie, and she appears to have been crying.

Quinn tries to sit down a little further, to appear unobtrusive, but from the way Stephanie pauses as she turns away from the front desk, Quinn knows she's been spotted.

She dreads going back to the room after her appointment.

She finds it a lot easier to tell her therapist about her sexuality and about Rachel, but that's because she's dwelling on Stephanie. She wants to talk about it, but it feels just kind of catty and rude, to say, "Well, I just found out my roommate is seeing someone here and I'm kind of obsessing about it."

So they just talk about Rachel, and about Quinn's coming out process. Her therapist tells her she's doing great, asks her how she thinks her mother will react, and Quinn snaps back to attention. They spend most of the session talking about what her mom and hypothetically, if they ever speak again, her father, might say about her sexuality. It feels good to talk it out, even though Quinn is pretty sure she doesn't want her mom to know until she's graduated from Yale. She doesn't want to risk finding herself homeless in the middle of college.

Would her mom let that happen to her again? It scares her to think about. She would like to think better of her mother, but some wounds heal slowly, and part of her may never forgive her mother for allowing her to be kicked out last time.

She should be better at forgiveness than she is. She supposes she gets her ability to hold a grudge from her father.

After her session, she lingers on campus, not quite wanting to head back to the room. The last of the late winter snow had finally melted just before April, to be replaced by some wind and occasional half-hearted drizzling. Quinn had put on a coat before leaving and now, walking around, she is sweating a little in it. It's becoming jacket weather.

But she can only delay it for so long. Homework awaits her, and it'll be time to meet up for dinner with friends soon. So she heads back to the dorm room before it really gets dark.

When she opens the door, Stephanie glances up, then sets aside the book she's reading and watches Quinn remove her coat and shoes. Quinn sits on the bed facing her, heart pounding, and raises her face. They look at each other for a long moment.

"So, you saw me," Stephanie says. It's barely inflected, and certainly not a question.

"Whatever you're doing there, it's none of my business." Quinn had practiced this line in her head, but it comes out more callous than she intended.

"Likewise," Stephanie returns, raising an eyebrow.

The silence eats at them both, until Quinn sighs a little. "I've been seeing a therapist since high school for depression and family issues," she says quickly, barely moving her lips.

Stephanie's eyebrows rise. Quinn lets it sink in, sure as she does so that Stephanie will wonder what kind of problems a rich white girl could have, and probably conclude it's all to do with her parents divorce, when it's so much more than that. But Stephanie doesn't need to know about Beth, not really. Quinn isn't ashamed, it's just very personal.

But Stephanie doesn't say anything rude. She just nods a few times in acceptance.

It's quiet for awhile, and then she says, "I only started going there recently."

"You don't have to tell me anything else," Quinn offers her an out.

Stephanie shakes her head. "No. I should. I've meant to." She meets her eye, "I found out recently that I'm bipolar."

"Oh," Quinn answers. She doesn't know a lot, but all she can really think of at first is that maybe Stephanie will go crazy and murder her. Then she brushes that thought away. She doesn't know much, but she knows that isn't accurate.

"I've really only been symptomatic for the past half year or so," she continues, "But I think you've seen a lot of it. I've targeted you when I've felt down. I've been cruel to you for no reason because I couldn't figure out why I felt so awful and you seemed to have everything. And I targeted you when I was manic. It was hard to really tell, because I had been recovering from the wisdom teeth surgery, but I was a little manic that week that we…you know." She shrugs, embarrassed. "Sometimes mania just seems to kinda disinhibit people. Sometimes it's more obvious. Like that day I just wanted to dance." That day suddenly makes a lot more sense to Quinn. "I started going not long after a time I snapped at you when you tried to help me with a project. I had been down a lot that week, and was starting to realize that it wasn't rational that I felt like killing myself because I couldn't concentrate on my assignments. They thought I just had depression, until I had a big manic episode. Then they knew." She sighs.

Quinn can't really think of anything to say, so she just lets the silence stretch. She feels almost silly for not wanting her roommate to know she was there because she was sometimes depressed and had a rough time in high school.

"Things are so crazy right now. Rob asked me out, and, although I like him, I had to turn him down, because I'm not in any kind of shape to date right now, and seeing the way I've treated you, because you're closest to me…I can't afford a relationship I can screw up so easily. Right now, they're trying to find the best medication and dosage for me. So…I could still have episodes while we discover how the medications affect me. Crazy talkative dancing episodes, maybe. Or stretches of time where I am just miserable. And I'm sorry if I do."

"It's okay," Quinn says automatically, "Of course it's okay."

"I'll try not to be such a bitch," she smiles wryly.

"You're not," Quinn counters, though…yeah, sometimes she is, a little. But Quinn sometimes is, too. That's why they're friends, she thinks. They get each other.

"Well, anyway. Just wanted to let you know what you're getting in to. And also, because I'm about to try a new dosage, I figured you should know. If I start getting like…really manic or depressive…you should call my therapist. I'll give you her number." She passes Quinn a little business card.

Quinn takes it, "Okay. I can do that."

Stephanie smiles, "We're not so different, really. We both have issues we want to take on by ourselves, don't we? You're embarrassed to be seeing a therapist, just like me."

"Yeah. Even though I know it's stupid to be, I am, a little."

"Me, too. I look at you sometimes and think, she hasn't had to deal with all the shit I have. But I also see something in you…the world has shit on you, too, huh?"

Quinn swallows. "You could say that."

Stephanie nods, "Well, I won't tell anybody."

"Thanks. I won't either."

Stephanie shrugs, "Honestly, I don't mind if you do. It'd be good to have everyone looking out for me while I try to get this pinned down. I really need to find an effective medication before finals." She grimaces.

"Definitely," Quinn widens her eyes.

There will probably always be a degree of awkwardness between them, Quinn thinks, but at least they have each other's backs. She's not eager to spill all her secrets to Stephanie, but she can entrust her with a few. That's all she can ask of a good roommate.

A/N: Chapter titles from Neutral Milk Hotel, "Two-Headed Boy Part 2," Blood Orange, "Bad Girls," Belle & Sebastian, "Piazza, New York Catcher," Kate Bush, "Hounds of Love," and Lloyd Cole & The Commotions, "Rattlesnakes" (I prefer to the Tori Amos version, however).