A/n: Hi guys. Here's another chapter for those still around despite the ridiculously long gaps inbetween. Happy beginning of the festive season.

Chapter Thirty-one: Everybody's Talking.

Later that night . . .

Rachel: Did you get into any trouble?

Quinn: No. My Dad's actually proud of me being chosen as a tutor :) He's always said he was glad he had a second daughter so that he could get the full package – the pageant princess and the brain.

How's your face?

Rachel: Why would he need two daughters for that?

A little sore, but not as much as my temper. My fathers took one look at me and accused me of experimenting with unethically sourced make-up!

Quinn: My sister hated school and majored in popularity at college, but she got my Mom's looks and then some. I got my Dad's looks and personality and a recessive dark hair gene from goodness knows where :/

Hence, I am the brain.

Rachel: You mean there's someone even prettier than you out there! Wow!

Quinn: *blushing*

Why? Are you looking to trade up?

Rachel: Despite what you've just told me, I don't think that's possible. Besides, I'd rather be 'friends' with the brain than the beauty queen.

Quinn: Me too.

Rachel: Just as well, because I'm never going to be a beauty queen.

Quinn: I didn't mean it like that!

Rachel: I know. You did call me beautiful earlier; you know? just not Hollywood beautiful.

Quinn: Oh. Right. I was just trying to win the argument.

Rachel: Don't take it back, Quinn. I'm comfortable with the way I am. I know I don't have the same classic beauty as you or the same sultry looks that make Santana so effortlessly sexy but I don't happen to think I need them because my talent more than makes up for any physical shortfalls that society might accuse me of having.

Quinn: I think you can be sultry.

Rachel: You do? I can?

Quinn: And effortlessly sexy.

Rachel: Seriously?

Rachel: I mean do you really think that or are you being nice because we're friends?

Quinn: So, this just got awkward and I'm changing the subject. Tomorrow is going to suck!

Rachel: Why is it going to suck?

Quinn: I have no free time after school tomorrow because of tutoring :(

Rachel: I told you Mr. Schuester is trying to ruin my life! Shall we make plans to meet up in the day.

Quinn: No, not after how spectacularly that failed today! I can't have any more detentions on my record.

Rachel: *sigh*Me either. What about recess?

Rachel: Actually, I just remembered I can't do recess. What about lunch?

Quinn: I need to have lunch with Finn. Why can't you do recess?

Rachel: If you told Finn we were friends now we could all have lunch together. I just have something I need to do.

Quinn: I'm not telling Finn we're friends. It would cause too many questions. What do you need to do?

Rachel: Oh, nothing important.

I think the only question would be 'how?' and we could simply say it was thanks to having an assignment that forced us to re-evaluate one another. We wouldn't even have to tell so much as a little white liar providing we aren't required to give dates and times.

Quinn: If he knew we were friends he'd want to be there whenever we spend time together. I'm ok with a third wheel, but are you? Bearing in mind YOU'D be the third wheel in Finn's eyes?

If it's not important, why are you being so evasive?

Rachel: I find myself torn now, because while I would like for Finn (or anyone!) to know that we have an actual bonafide friendship despite our past, and it would make things easier in many respects, I also don't want to watch Finn being your boyfriend any more than I already have to.

And I'm not being evasive. I must simply meet someone at recess to hand over a paper.

Quinn: It's better if no one knows. I kind of like you being my little secret.

Rachel: Your sexy little secret? ;)

Quinn: I don't know, just how sexy are we talking? ;)

Rachel: Save it for the freight yards, Fabray ;)

Quinn: Shouldn't that be my line? ;)

Rachel: Why would you call me Fabray?

Early Wednesday morning Rachel once again found Mr. Schuester in his office. He didn't look as tired to see her this time.

"Hey, Rachel. How are you after yesterday? Have you been using the cream they gave you?"

She'd used it overnight, but as it was hard to rub in completely, she hadn't this morning. Her face was already feeling better and only small red blotches remained. They were quite noticeable, but not as noticeable as bright white smears of cream would be.

"I'm feeling perfectly fine, thank you for asking. Now, my reason for seeking you out. As I feel responsible for pointing out that many of your sophomore classes can't even spell Spanish in English, let alone spell any Spanish words in actual Spanish, I feel it is only right that I insist on joining your tutoring program."

He sat back in his chair. "I see. And is this something you and Quinn cooked up that might prevent you both from skipping class again?"

"Quinn doesn't know that I'm here," she said honestly. "I'm offering out of a sense of duty to my fellow classmates."

"Uh-huh." He didn't look like he believed her but sat forward and pulled his chair closer to the desk as he looked for a particular piece of paper in a mess of other papers. "Well, the more the merrier and I won't deny the help is needed. I've only managed to convince six students to come this afternoon, but hopefully the numbers will rise once the other kids see how well their team-mates are doing."

"Team-mates?" she asked with a bad feeling – he probably wasn't referring to the Debate Club or the Mock United Nations – but her alarm was drowned out by the sound of the bell.

"I'll see you later, Rachel. And, thanks. I appreciate your help."

"Your welcome!" Rachel sang as she dashed out of the office to try and beat the bell.

"Hey, RuPaul," Santana called as they passed each other in the halls. "Might want to tone down the blusher if you want to look like a real chick."

Brittany giggled, "Doesn't she look just like that weird rag doll that used to give you nightmares?"

"Yeah the one with the red cheeks," Santana said, with a shudder of revulsion.

Quinn, walking between them, just ignored her presence completely.

Rachel took a breath, rolled the insults off her back and stepped into her first period class.

"CSI: Lima called, Berry. They want their dead hooker back," Santana drawled as she passed by to her seat at the back in second period.

Naturally embarrassment only made the burns stand out more.

Brittany actually stopped by her desk for a second. "I know most people are scared of you guys, but I think clowns have as much right to a life as anyone else. You might want to think about getting a better wig though, 'cause that one's kind of crappy – it's not red or green and it doesn't even look like real hair."

Quinn's fingers subtly grazed along her arm as she walked past at the end of class. It made Rachel feel a little better.

"Bathroom."

"I can't." It was recess, meaning Rachel had somewhere else to be, even if she'd rather follow Quinn anywhere. "I have to hand over my paper."

"A teacher can wait two minutes, this can't. Meet me in the bathroom over there."

She pulled the info pack from her locker after Quinn had walked away and pushed it into her bag. Closing the metal door, she looked around for witnesses, unnecessarily, because Quinn wouldn't have approached her in the first place if there had been any, and then made her way to the bathroom.

"Lock the door."

The key was waiting for her and she complied even as she said, "Quinn, I can't stay."

"I know. Come here."

Quinn had her make up bag out and an oversized soft brush already in her hand, still the first thing to touch her face was Quinn's lips to her forehead. "I'm sorry my friends are evil."

Rachel shrugged and succumbed to Quinn's brush sweeping powder over her cheeks.

"Why didn't you get your dad to do this before you came to school?"

"I didn't think it was that bad and I don't like my dad's thinking I need to aspire to superficial beauty to avoid bullying."

The brush halted on her cheek and was then lifted away. "You think I'm superficial because I wear make-up?"

"No." Rachel frowned, not getting the connection at all. "I think you wear make-up because you've been taught to by your mom and mainstream culture. But I've seen you with your make-up streaked down your cheeks and vomit on your breath and you are still every bit as beautiful as you are right now, there's nothing superficial about that."

Quinn's mouth was a firm line, but the brush resumed its work. When she was done and not looking at her anymore, she muttered, "Sometimes I don't know whether I hate you or love you."

"It's mutual, I assure you." Quinn gave her a tiny smile, which she returned. "Thank you . . . for this. I have to go now, though."

Dropping her make-up brush into her bag, Quinn stepped closer. "Do you? We have another ten minutes."

"Yes, I have to . . .but, um . . ." She couldn't help herself, "What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know, but I assumed we could find something to talk about."

"Oh," Rachel chuckled, wondering if the powder Quinn had applied would hide her rising blush. "I thought, you know, locked bathroom and all, you were going to kiss me."

"Oh! No, I was just . . . I was going for 'friend' time."

"Right. So . . ."

"You should probably go and turn in your paper."

"Yes. Can I . . . I mean, maybe a hug?"

Quinn nodded, opening her arms, "Okay, but just a quick one."

There was no such thing as a quick hug between the two of them, because whenever one of them decided it was time to let go the other exerted just enough pressure to quash the idea.

It was an endless circle of hugging pleasure which was why Rachel found herself racing towards the alcove with only a few minutes left of recess.

"I've been waiting ages!" Finn griped as soon as she burst through the broken gate.

"I'm sorry," Rachel panted as she tried to catch her breath and pull the pack from her bag at the same time. "I got caught up."

"Doing what? I thought you knew how important this was to me."

"I do!" And she was here now, wasn't she? Instead of still being in Quinn's arms. "And I have what you wanted." She handed the info pack over.

Finn flicked through a few pages, frowning like it was written in Arabic. "This is a lot of . . . stuff."

"Yes."

"I don't even understand half of it!"

"Finn, you've glanced at it for less than a minute! Take it home, read through it properly and I'm sure it will all start to make sense."

"Can you come over tonight and . . . maybe help me?"

Gah, she hated those puppy dog eyes!

"I don't, uh . . ." The bell rang. ". . .I have to go. Read it tonight, I'll answer your questions tomorrow."

"Same time, same place?" Finn asked jovially as Rachel backed out of the alcove.

"Uh, yes, sure."

"Seriously that's what I heard," Charity was saying in the lunch line.

"But Finn's gorgeous!" Becky Whatsername said behind her.

Charity cut her a look that implied Becky's opinion was worth less than zero even if she was wearing a Cheerios uniform and then looked over her head to Reena, "He's playing away from home."

"Well, it's not like Quinn doesn't have it coming, but with Berry? He's hot, why would he go there?"

"God knows, I'm just saying what I heard. And two days running, that's not an accident."

"How does anyone even end up with Berry in the alcove one day by accident?" Reena giggled.

"Exactly!"

"Finn is so hot though!"

"Shut up, Becky!" Charity and Reena said together.

Three people down the line, Quinn slammed her half empty lunch tray down and stormed away.

"Hey, Russ."

"William, how are you?" Russell Fabray shook the hand of one of his oldest clients and steered him into his office. "So, who's suing you today?"

"No one, which makes a nice change." William waited for Russell to sit behind his desk before following suit. "This is semi-personal. My eldest is graduating Harvard Law this year, flying colours obviously, and she's got her sights set on Boston or New York."

"And you'd rather she was closer to home?" Russell guessed with a laugh.

"She's a good girl, but she's been dating morons in college and I'm worried she's going to end up with one of them. Your firm is the best in the state. If you had a position to offer her . . ."

"I can't promise anything, obviously, but if there's a vacancy I'll put in a good word. Get her to send in a resume and I'll push it onto the desks of the people who matter."

"Thanks, Russell. Hey, how's your daughter?"

Russell smiled, "Which one?"

"The one that was in the hospital yesterday." When he saw that his friend was confused, he tried again. "Uh, Winnie? The one that used to be fat."

Russell almost shot out of his seat at that but was professional enough to settle for stabbing his finger in the asshole's direction. "Are you kidding me? Don't speak like that about my girl."

"But she was," William said, not seeming to think he'd said anything wrong. "She's a looker now though, right? You must be proud she turned out so good."

"Quinn's been beautiful since the day she was born!"

"Okay, fine, I'm sorry. So, she's okay? It wasn't anything serious?"

"Was what anything serious?"

"The reason she came into the ER yesterday. I was swamped so I couldn't take her case myself, but don't worry, she was well taken care of."

"Quinn didn't go to the hospital yesterday."

"Are you sure? Would have been after school, about five."

"Yes, I'm sure. I know exactly where my daughter is at all times. She had a Glee club practice straight after classes and then went on to tutor a Spanish lesson before coming home for dinner."

"Maybe I confused someone else with her, then," William said easily enough but it sounded like he was humouring him.

Russell hated that. "Yes, you must have. Quinn's a good girl and if she'd had reason to go to the hospital, she would have called me to be with her anyway." He smiled fondly, "She might be sixteen going on twenty but she'll always be a Daddy's girl at heart."

"There's no way they were having sex in the alcove!" Peter Lucklow laughed. "Hudson's too tall to make it work."

"Hey, I heard 'em," Karofsky said.

"You heard them doing it?"

"Fuck, no! I wouldn't have stayed around to hear them do it! I heard them talk about doing it, yesterday. I guess they met again today to seal the deal, right?"

"But how? There's barely any floorspace. Now, Berry giving him a blowjob, that I can understand. I can just see that little big-mouthed loser on her knees . . ."

It came down to two choices, launch her desk at Peter Lucklow's head or leave before she made a scene.

Quinn stood up and made her way to the front of the class. "Can I have bathroom pass, please?"

"You couldn't go before class?"

"I did go before class, but that doesn't stop the baby from jumping up and down on my bladder."

As the teacher wrote her out a pass Quinn thanked her unborn baby for having some uses.

As soon as she was out in the corridor, she pulled out her phone.

Did you meet with Finn at recess?

She actually did need the bathroom and was halfway through her business when she received a reply.

Very briefly, why?

Why? Had Rachel not heard the things people were saying about her? Quinn washed and dried her hands while she decided on what to reply with. It needed the right tone and coming off as bitchy or, God forbid, jealous wouldn't do.

You don't have to lie to me about a paper. If you want to spend your time with my boyfriend instead of me, that's fine.

Okay, so it was a little bitchy and a little jealous but, seriously, that was understandable, wasn't it?

The next answer came quickly. I didn't lie. I met with Finn to provide him some notes.

Quinn frowned at her phone before stabbing the 'reply' button with her thumb. That didn't ring true; why would they need to meet in private for that?

For Glee?

She was back in class and the period was just finishing by the time her phone vibrated again and her first thought was why had it taken so long to text back with one word:

Biology.

Her second thought was that Biology sounded like a classic nerdy codework for making out and she could picture Rachel's smile at how clever she thought she was being.

Not that Quinn actually believed the rumours she had been hearing all damn day, Rachel wouldn't cheat on her . . . um, on their friendship. She wouldn't go behind her back and make out with Finn. Friend's just didn't do that to each other . . .

Like you didn't do it to Santana three and a half months ago or like Rachel hasn't been doing with you for the past month?

'It's different.'

How?

Puck was a mistake, I regretted it even before I found out I was pregnant, because of Santana and Finn. And Rachel and I . . . we're just different.'

How?

'You know how!'

Then why is Finn even still a part of the equation?

'I can't leave him . . . the baby . . .'

Isn't his.

'Security!'

From what?

'. . . Getting hurt.'

That doesn't sound very fair.

'Life isn't fair!'

That's a terrible argument.

'It's the only one I have.'

She shuffled her books into her bag and picked up her folder as she murmured, "Amen."

She wouldn't believe the rumours; if anyone knew how many untrue rumours about Rachel had flown around this school it was her, because she'd started most of them. There was a logical explanation, there had to be, and Rachel would tell her when she asked because . . . because they were friends above all else and Rachel had promised she would be a good one.