A/N: Been super inspired while at work! Hope you enjoy seeing Rachel's POV. Bonkers is a real camp game I used to play back when I worked as a camp counselor (wanna guess how I got my inspiration for this story? :P)
Rachel lay still in bed, staring at the wooden beams above her. The quiet of the early morning wrapped around her like a thin veil, the soft rustling of leaves outside the only sound cutting through the silence. She hadn't yet mustered the will to get up, lingering in the space between sleep and wakefulness, her mind restless with thoughts.
She had wanted this summer to be different. She had fought for it—had begged her dads to send her here, desperate for a fresh start, an escape from the hallways of McKinley where she always felt like an outsider. Camp Crestwood was supposed to be her chance to reinvent herself, to make real friends, to be part of something where people weren't waiting for her to mess up so they could laugh about it later. And in a way, it was working. She had Olivia, Ethan, and Nate—people who genuinely seemed to enjoy her company, who welcomed her into their group without hesitation. But then there was Quinn. Rachel's fingers curled into the thin blanket over her, her lips pressing together as she let herself think about her. She had always felt something toward Quinn Fabray. A pull, an awareness, something unspoken that had lingered ever since freshman year. Maybe it was admiration—Quinn had always been so self-assured, so impossibly put together. Or maybe it was respect, some deep-seated acknowledgment of Quinn's ability to command attention without even trying. Or maybe it was something else entirely.
Rachel had never quite figured it out. It was part of the reason she had pursued Finn Hudson in the first place—some naïve hope that by being close to him, she might understand the girl who had always felt just out of reach. But Quinn remained a mystery and things with Finn quickly fizzled out. And now? Now, Quinn was different. Rachel had known her as the head cheerleader, the confident, cruel girl who always had a smirk and a cutting remark ready. At McKinley, Quinn had walked through the halls like she owned them. Here, though—here, she was something else. Reclusive. Guarded. Sad.
Tired.
Rachel had never seen Quinn Fabray look tired before. Not like this, anyway. There was something worn about her, something distant, as if the sharp edges Rachel had come to expect had dulled in the weeks leading up to camp. She was still mean, still quick to snap and retreat behind her walls, but there was something missing from it now. The spark, the fire. It wasn't anger—it was something heavier, something Rachel wasn't sure how to name. She turned onto her side, staring at the sliver of golden light creeping in through the cabin window. Her gaze flickered to the bed across from her, where Quinn lay curled beneath her own blanket, her face relaxed in sleep.
Rachel found herself lingering, watching the way Quinn's features softened in rest, stripped of the tension that so often guarded them. She looked peaceful like this. Pretty, even. Rachel's lips pressed together as she quickly averted her gaze, shaking off the thought before it could settle too deeply. With a quiet sigh, she slipped out of bed, moving carefully so as not to wake Quinn. She grabbed her things and stepped outside, inhaling the crisp morning air as she prepared for the day. She wasn't sure what was waiting for her at breakfast, but she was certain of one thing—this summer was already proving to be more complicated than she had expected.
Rachel made her way toward the dining hall, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm syrup drifting through the crisp morning air. The campgrounds were still relatively quiet, only a few early risers scattered along the dirt paths, some stretching for a morning run, others lingering on cabin porches with groggy eyes and steaming mugs. She hugged her arms around herself as she walked, the cool morning breeze raising goosebumps on her skin. Her thoughts still lingered on Quinn—on the contrast between the girl she had known at McKinley and the one here at Crestwood. But as the sounds of the bustling dining hall grew closer, she forced the thoughts aside, readying herself for what she hoped would be an easy morning. Pushing through the heavy wooden doors, she immediately spotted Olivia, Ethan, and Nate seated at their usual table, already deep in conversation. Olivia was gesturing wildly about something, Ethan laughing as Nate shook his head in amused disbelief. Rachel smiled, the warmth of familiarity settling in her chest. She crossed the room toward them, sliding onto the bench next to Olivia, who turned to greet her with a bright grin.
"Morning, babe," Olivia said easily, nudging Rachel's shoulder. "You sleep okay?"
Rachel nodded, reaching for the orange juice pitcher. "I did, actually. And you?"
"Like a rock," Olivia declared. "Unlike Ethan, who apparently had an existential crisis about mosquitoes at three in the morning."
Ethan groaned, rubbing his face. "They were so loud, and I swear one of them had it out for me specifically."
Nate smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. "You think the mosquitoes are out to get you, man?"
"I'm just saying, I heard buzzing directly in my ear for a solid hour," Ethan insisted. "That's targeted harassment."
Rachel laughed, letting the easy conversation wash over her, settling into the kind of morning she had always wanted—one filled with laughter, warmth, and the comfort of knowing she belonged. Rachel was in the middle of buttering a slice of toast when she felt a shift in the energy of the dining hall—subtle, but enough to make her glance toward the entrance. Quinn had arrived.
She stood just inside the doorway, her posture stiff, eyes flicking across the room like she was calculating the quickest route to their table. Her hair was still damp from a recent shower, strands curling slightly at the ends, and she wore an oversized sweatshirt that swallowed her frame more than usual. Rachel felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest at the sight of her, something between curiosity and concern.
Olivia noticed too. "Well, well, look who emerges," she teased, tilting her head in Quinn's direction.
Quinn made her way over without hesitation, her tray balanced in one hand. She slid onto the bench beside Ethan, setting her tray down without a word.
"Morning," she muttered, reaching for her fork.
"Morning," Rachel replied, studying her carefully.
Quinn kept her eyes on her plate, her movements slower than usual, more deliberate. She wasn't in a rush to leave, wasn't on edge the way she sometimes was in social situations. Something was different today.
And Rachel intended to find out what.
As breakfast wrapped up, Rachel took another sip of her juice, already anticipating another round of camp announcements when Olivia clapped her hands together decisively.
"Alright, Foxes," she declared, standing from the bench with a dramatic flourish. "We have free time. Let's not waste it."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And by 'not waste it,' you mean…?"
"Camp store," Olivia said, as if it were obvious. "Snacks, ridiculous impulse buys, and the possibility of peer pressure."
Rachel smirked. "Tempting. But shouldn't we—"
"Nope. No excuses. We're going," Olivia interrupted, already slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Nate stretched his arms behind his head, grinning. "I back this plan."
Rachel glanced toward Quinn, who hadn't spoken much throughout breakfast, but when Olivia turned her expectant gaze to her, Quinn just shrugged. "Whatever." Rachel frowned slightly. Quinn was still withdrawn—more so than usual. But before she could linger on it too long, Olivia was already steering them toward the door.
As they step inside the small but well-stocked camp store, the air is thick with the scent of sunscreen, bug spray, and an overwhelming mix of sugary treats. Olivia immediately beelines for the candy section, Nate wanders toward the camp merch, and Ethan, predictably, starts debating the best chips with Rachel.
"I'm just saying," Ethan insists, holding up a bag of sour cream and onion chips, "this is the superior flavor."
Rachel scoffs. "You're objectively wrong. Classic salted is timeless."
Olivia, already unwrapping a lollipop she hasn't paid for yet, rolls her eyes. "Ugh, you two sound like an old married couple. Just get both."
Rachel opens her mouth to argue but is cut off when Olivia suddenly smirks, turning toward Quinn, who has been quietly surveying the shelves. "Alright, Fabray. What's your snack of choice?"
Quinn barely looks up. "I don't know. I don't really eat junk food."
Ethan gasps in mock horror. "That is the saddest thing I've ever heard."
Nate grins. "Okay, new plan. We each pick something and make Quinn try them all."
Rachel expects Quinn to protest, but instead, she just exhales a soft fine, like she doesn't have the energy to fight it. Rachel watches her, noting the way Quinn seems almost resigned, as if she's letting herself be pulled along rather than resisting. The next several minutes were a chaotic mix of snack negotiations, playful debates, and Olivia taking it upon herself to curate the perfect selection of junk food for Quinn to try. Despite Quinn's initial reluctance, she ended up with an assortment of chips, candy, and something questionably neon that Ethan insisted was a camp staple.
Rachel watched as Quinn sampled each one, her reactions ranging from unimpressed to mildly intrigued. Olivia dramatically gasped when Quinn admitted to liking caramel popcorn, declaring it a "historic moment," while Ethan pretended to wipe away a tear.
By the time they left the camp store, their arms were full of snacks, and Olivia was already planning which ones to smuggle into future evening bonfires. The easy energy of the group carried them toward their next activity, though Rachel couldn't shake the way Quinn had seemed… off. Not unwilling to participate, exactly—just detached, like she wasn't sure if she was supposed to enjoy it. Rachel glanced at her as they walked, but Quinn kept her gaze forward, hands tucked into her sweatshirt pockets.
They left the camp store and meandered back toward the main path leading to the Activity Center. The morning sun had risen higher, casting warm golden light over the campgrounds, and the buzz of activity from other campers moving between free time and scheduled events filled the air. Rachel adjusted the strap of her bag, glancing over at Quinn, who was walking a few steps behind the group, hands tucked into the pocket of her sweatshirt. She still looked withdrawn, as if her mind was somewhere else entirely. Rachel frowned slightly but didn't have a chance to linger on the thought before Olivia looped her arm through hers.
"Alright, Foxes," Olivia announced, grinning. "Time to go become one with nature or whatever Jake has planned for us."
Ethan groaned. "If this involves bugs, I'm quitting camp."
"I think that's against the rules," Nate pointed out, snacking on a stolen piece of caramel popcorn.
Rachel shook her head fondly as they approached the designated meeting spot near the Activity Center, where Jake was already waiting for them with his usual easygoing smile.
"Alright, Foxes," he called, clapping his hands together. "This morning, we're hitting the water. Canoeing—classic camp activity, equal parts fun and teamwork. But before we get started, let's go over some basic rules so no one ends up flipped over and swimming back to shore." A few campers chuckled, but Rachel straightened her posture, taking the instructions seriously.
Jake continued, "Rule number one: always wear your life vest. I know some of you think you're Olympians, but trust me, things happen. Rule number two: communication is key. If you and your partner aren't paddling in sync, you're going to end up going in circles." He cast a pointed look toward Ethan and Nate, who exchanged knowing smirks. "Rule number three: if you fall in, don't panic. Just hold onto the canoe and wait for help."
Rachel resisted the urge to raise her hand and ask follow-up questions, though her mind was already racing with concerns about proper paddling technique.
Jake surveyed the group. "Alright, everyone partner up, grab a paddle, and meet me down by the canoe pond."
Rachel barely had time to consider her options before Olivia looped an arm around her shoulder. "C'mon, partner, let's get this over with before all the good canoes are taken."
Rachel sighed but allowed herself to be steered toward the boats. "For the record, I would prefer to take my time selecting optimal equipment."
Olivia snorted. "Babe, it's a canoe, not a race car. Just pick one."
As they reached the water's edge, Rachel adjusted her grip on the paddle while Olivia gave her a mischievous grin. "Alright, you ever done this before?"
Rachel huffed. "Of course. I did extensive research on proper canoeing techniques before arriving at camp."
Olivia snorted. "You researched canoeing? God, you're adorable."
Rachel's face warmed, but she didn't have time to argue before Olivia climbed into the canoe with an impressive lack of hesitation. Rachel followed, wobbling slightly as she settled into the front seat. They pushed off from shore, Olivia's strokes strong and confident behind her. "You know," Olivia mused as they drifted further from land, "I've been meaning to ask—what's up with you and Quinn?"
Rachel nearly lost hold of her paddle. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, come on," Olivia teased. "You two have this thing. You knew each other before camp, obviously, but there's, like… something there."
Rachel straightened, her grip tightening. "We attend the same school. That's all."
Olivia hummed, clearly unconvinced. "Sure, sure. But I mean, she watches you."
Rachel turned her head sharply. "She does not."
"Oh, babe." Olivia's smirk was practically audible. "She so does."
Rachel opened her mouth to argue but caught movement in her peripheral vision. When she glanced toward the other canoes, her stomach flipped—Quinn, a few feet away in a separate boat with Nate, was looking directly at her. Correction: glaring at her. Rachel's breath hitched, and she quickly turned away, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Olivia chuckled. "Hate to break it to you, but I think someone's jealous."
Rachel didn't dignify that with a response, choosing instead to focus on paddling—though no amount of technique could drown out the new, entirely unwelcome flutter in her chest. Rachel swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the rhythmic motion of her paddle cutting through the water. It doesn't mean anything, she told herself. Quinn glares at everyone. And yet, something about it lingered, like the ghost of fingertips against her skin.
Olivia, meanwhile, was having the time of her life. "You're tense, babe," she teased, effortlessly guiding their canoe forward. "You gotta loosen up, feel the rhythm of the water."
Rachel exhaled through her nose, gripping her paddle tighter. "I am perfectly relaxed."
"You're about as relaxed as a cat in a bathtub." Olivia dipped her paddle in again, expertly steering them past a floating log. "But that's not the important part. The important part is that Quinn was just staring at you like you personally offended her."
Rachel scoffed. "That's hardly unusual."
"Mm," Olivia hummed. "Yeah, but this was different. That wasn't a 'Rachel Berry is annoying' glare. That was a 'why is she laughing with someone else' glare."
Rachel scoffed. "Quinn doesn't like me. She's never liked me."
"Babe." Olivia's voice was all amusement. "I am a professional observer of people's vibes, and let me tell you—yours and Quinn's are weird."
Rachel refused to entertain this any further. "Shouldn't we be focusing on paddling?"
Olivia sighed dramatically. "Fine. But I just want it on the record that I'm right about this."
They paddled in silence for a few moments, Rachel hyper-aware of every shift in the canoe, every sound of the water lapping against their oars. She snuck another glance toward Quinn's canoe. Quinn wasn't looking at her anymore—her focus was locked on the water, her movements precise, face carefully unreadable. And yet… no. That didn't make sense. Quinn glared at her all the time. That was just how Quinn was.
Olivia was reading into things. She had to be.
Just as Rachel was beginning to settle into the rhythm of paddling, a distant bell rang through the trees, signaling the end of the activity block.
"Saved by the bell," Olivia quipped, stretching her arms dramatically as they steered the canoe back toward shore.
Rachel exhaled, grateful for the distraction. The moment their boat scraped against the dock, she climbed out carefully, shaking out her legs. Around them, the rest of the Fox Tribe was doing the same—Ethan shaking out his arms like he'd just finished an intense workout, Nate dramatically flopping onto the dock as if he'd survived a great hardship, and Maya grumbling about how wet her shorts had gotten.
Jake clapped his hands together. "Good work today, guys. Head back to the Dining Hall—you've got about ten minutes before lunch starts."
Rachel barely had time to adjust her ponytail before Olivia linked arms with her again. "Alright, Foxes, to lunch!" she said with a grin.
Rachel let herself be pulled along, but not before stealing one last glance at Quinn, who was lingering near the edge of the dock. She wasn't looking Rachel's way anymore. But Rachel couldn't shake the feeling that she had been, just moments ago.
By the time the Fox Tribe reached the Dining Hall, the usual lunchtime buzz had already settled in—campers filing to their designated tables, the clatter of trays and silverware mixing with overlapping conversations. Rachel slid into her spot at the Fox Tribe's assigned table, listening as Olivia and Nate immediately launched into a dramatic retelling of their canoeing "adventures," complete with exaggerated gestures and fabricated near-death experiences. Ethan chimed in with his own version, insisting that his canoe had definitely been targeted by a rogue duck. Rachel let their voices wash over her as she picked at her salad, occasionally adding a comment but mostly lost in thought. Across the table, Quinn ate quietly, barely engaging in the conversation beyond the occasional nod. It wasn't unusual for Quinn to be reserved, but after this morning—after that glare—Rachel found herself hyper-aware of her presence.
At some point, Olivia nudged Rachel's shoulder. "You good? You're awfully quiet."
Rachel blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. "What? Oh—yes, I'm fine."
Olivia gave her a knowing look but let it slide, turning back to Ethan, who was now dramatically lamenting his tragic battle with a particularly aggressive bread roll. Lunch carried on, filled with laughter, teasing, and the easy camaraderie of the Fox Tribe. But even as Rachel played along, laughing at Nate's ridiculous impressions and rolling her eyes at Olivia's exaggerated dramatics, she couldn't shake the nagging awareness of Quinn sitting just a few feet away. Quiet. Withdrawn. Watching, even when Rachel wasn't looking.
After lunch, the Fox Tribe filtered out of the Dining Hall, the sun high overhead as the camp settled into its midday lull. Most campers split off toward their usual free-time spots—some heading for the lake, others sprawling across the main lawn in groups.
"Alright," Olivia declared, hands on her hips. "We've been here long enough. I say we explore."
Ethan raised a brow. "Explore what, exactly?"
"The camp, obviously," Olivia said, already turning toward the wooded trail that wound around the outskirts of the grounds. "You know, see if there's anything interesting beyond the usual spots."
Nate stretched his arms behind his head. "I'm down. Worst-case scenario, we get some nice shade."
Rachel hesitated, scanning the area out of habit. Quinn had been with them when they left the Dining Hall, but now… she was gone. She glanced back toward their usual route, expecting to see Quinn lingering nearby. She wasn't.
Rachel frowned, but before she could dwell on it, Olivia looped an arm through hers. "C'mon, babe, let's go before the mosquitoes eat us alive."
With that, the group set off down the dirt path winding deeper into the trees, the camp noises fading behind them until only the chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves remained. Olivia led the way with confidence, despite having no clear destination.
"This better lead somewhere cool," Ethan grumbled, stepping over a tree root.
"It will," Olivia assured him, though she sounded more hopeful than certain.
Rachel adjusted her stride, glancing around as they walked. The deeper they went, the more untouched the woods felt, the air thick with the scent of pine and earth. "Are we sure this is even part of camp?"
Nate shrugged. "I mean, there's still a trail. So technically… yes?"
A few more minutes passed before they stumbled into a small clearing. A worn wooden bench sat nestled between two trees, overlooking a steep drop-off that led down to a valley of rolling green and the distant shimmer of water.
"Whoa," Olivia breathed, stepping forward. "Okay, this was worth it."
Rachel followed, taking in the view. It was beautiful—peaceful in a way that felt different from the rest of camp. The world stretched out before them, endless and open, the lake in the distance catching the sunlight just right.
"This must be an old lookout point," Nate mused, running a hand over the weathered bench. "Think they just stopped bringing people out here?"
Ethan flopped down onto the bench, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Okay, I'm declaring this the official Fox Tribe secret hideout."
Rachel let out a soft laugh, but her mind was still elsewhere. As her gaze lingered on the treetops in the distance, she couldn't shake the nagging thought that Quinn had wandered off somewhere, too. For the first time since she'd arrived at Crestwood, Rachel wasn't entirely sure she wanted to let Quinn disappear.
Ethan stretched out on the bench, hands behind his head as he let out a content sigh. "Alright, I take back my complaints. This is nice."
"I told you it would be," Olivia said smugly, plopping down onto the ground and leaning back on her hands. "Sometimes, you just have to trust me."
Nate snorted. "That's a dangerous game."
Olivia threw a small pinecone at him. Rachel sat cross-legged in the grass, taking in the easy way the three of them interacted. They had this effortless camaraderie, one that came from knowing each other for more than just a few days. It was something she'd always longed for—belonging somewhere.
"So," Ethan said, tilting his head toward Rachel. "What made you want to come to camp this summer? You don't strike me as the 'spend weeks in the woods' type."
Rachel huffed. "Why does everyone assume that?"
"You carry yourself like someone who prefers air conditioning," Olivia teased.
Rachel rolled her eyes but smiled. "Fine. If you must know, I wanted a fresh start. A summer where I could just… be someone outside of school."
Nate nodded, tossing a small rock between his hands. "Yeah, I get that. Crestwood's kind of perfect for that. No parents, no reputations, just… whatever we make of it."
Rachel considered that. Whatever we make of it.
"And what about you guys?" she asked, shifting the attention away from herself. "Why do you keep coming back?"
Ethan shrugged. "It's home. I mean, not literally, but it kind of feels that way, you know?"
Olivia nodded. "Yeah. The real world is exhausting. Here, it's simple. You get to just… be."
Rachel glanced between them, something warm settling in her chest. She'd come here hoping to make friends. And somehow, she'd stumbled into something more than that.
The group lingered at the lookout for a few more minutes, letting the peace of the moment settle around them. But eventually, the distant ring of the activity bell echoed through the trees, signaling the start of their next scheduled session.
Olivia groaned dramatically. "Ugh, just when I was starting to enjoy nature."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "You were literally the one who dragged us out here."
"Yeah, well, I didn't expect it to involve actual walking," she shot back, dusting off her shorts as she stood. "C'mon, let's move before Jake hunts us down."
Rachel followed as they made their way back down the path, her mind still lingering on the conversation they'd just had. It was strange, how easy this all felt—like she fit here in a way she never had back at McKinley. But as they neared the Activity Center, that feeling was replaced with another thought: Quinn. She still hadn't seen her since lunch. And for some reason, that bothered her more than it should.
As they neared the Activity Center, the sounds of excited chatter and the occasional burst of laughter signaled that the rest of the Fox Tribe had already gathered along with another tribe she didn't recognize. Jake stood at the front, arms crossed over his chest as he and the other counselor waited for the stragglers to arrive. Rachel's eyes instinctively scanned the group the moment they stepped into the clearing.
Where is she?
It took only a second before she spotted Quinn, standing near the back, hands in her pockets, her posture relaxed but eyes distant. She was there, just like she always was, but something about her seemed heavier today. Rachel felt something loosen in her chest. She didn't know why. Before she could dwell on it further, Jake clapped his hands together, bringing everyone's attention to him. "Alright, Everyone! Hope you're feeling competitive, because today we've got a relay course for you. Speed, teamwork, and maybe just a little strategy—so choose your partners wisely. We'll be competing against the Wolf Tribe who have so generously agreed to participate in our afternoon activity with us"
Rachel barely registered Olivia nudging her shoulder, too caught up in the way Quinn stood just apart from the tribe—not absent, not avoiding, just… watching. And for some reason, Rachel couldn't look away. Jake grinned as he gestured toward the makeshift course set up ahead—an assortment of obstacles spread across the open field, from rope tunnels to a balance beam and a puzzle station at the end.
"Alright, here's how this works," he announced. "Each pair will take on different sections of the course before tagging in the next duo. First tribe to get everyone across wins."
Olivia cracked her knuckles. "Easy."
"Bold of you to assume," Nate muttered, eyeing the balance beam with suspicion.
Jake ignored them. "Now, partner up!"
Rachel didn't have a chance to think before Olivia grabbed her arm. "You and me, babe."
Rachel barely had time to nod before the others started pairing off—Ethan with Nate, Maya with Drew, Lucas with Quinn. Her eyes flickered toward Quinn, watching as she absently adjusted the straps on her wrist guards. Their gazes met for half a second before Quinn looked away, her face unreadable. Rachel exhaled and turned back to Olivia, who was bouncing on her heels.
"Alright," Olivia said, grinning. "Let's kick some ass."
Jake waved them to their starting positions, lining up each pair at different points of the course. "Ready?" He raised his whistle. A sharp tweet cut through the air. And just like that, the relay had begun.
The first pair took off as soon as Jake's whistle blew, kicking up dust as they sprinted toward the rope tunnel. Ethan and Nate had volunteered to start for the Fox Tribe, while the Wolf Tribe's team, a pair of tall, athletic-looking boys, charged forward beside them. Ethan crawled through the ropes like an overexcited puppy, while Nate struggled behind him, muttering something about regretting his life choices. On the other side, the Wolf boys powered through with practiced efficiency, already gaining ground.
As soon as they tagged out, the next duos darted forward—Maya and Drew for the Foxes, a pair of determined-looking girls for the Wolves. Their task was crossing a set of hanging tires, which required balance and precision. Maya made it look effortless, hopping from one to the next with perfect control, while Drew nearly wiped out twice, catching himself with frantic arm flails. The Wolf Tribe's pair, however, moved like a well-oiled machine, barely slowing as they cleared the obstacle.
Rachel felt the pressure mount as she and Olivia stepped up next. Their section involved weaving through low-hanging ropes without touching them—a task requiring both speed and agility. Olivia, as usual, made it look easy, calling over her shoulder, "Keep up, babe!" as Rachel followed close behind.
Rachel gritted her teeth, pushing herself harder as she noticed the Wolf Tribe's team keeping pace beside them. She clipped a rope near the end but managed to recover, tagging Olivia's hand just as their competitors did the same.
The final leg belonged to Quinn and Lucas, up against the Wolf Tribe's strongest duo. Both teams sprinted toward the balance beam, where footwork and composure mattered most. Rachel turned instinctively, watching as Quinn leapt onto the beam without hesitation, her movements fluid and controlled. Lucas followed, struggling slightly to keep up. The Wolf Tribe's final pair had the same idea, moving with razor-sharp focus.
Rachel barely realized she was staring until Olivia nudged her. "See something you like?"
Rachel tore her eyes away, face heating. "It's just impressive."
Olivia smirked but let it go as the final stretch of the relay loomed ahead—the puzzle station. Both teams skidded to a stop, hands flying over the scattered wooden pieces. It was chaos, both tribes scrambling to complete their puzzles first. Rachel held her breath as Quinn and Lucas worked in near silence, the only sound being the frantic clicking of pieces locking into place. The Wolf team wasn't far behind, their lead competitor visibly frustrated as Quinn smoothly fit another piece in. Then—click. Quinn slid the last piece into place.
Jake blew the whistle. "Foxes win!"
The group erupted into cheers, while the Wolf Tribe groaned in disappointment. Rachel caught the smallest flicker of satisfaction on Quinn's face before it disappeared beneath her usual mask of indifference. As the Fox Tribe gathered in celebration, Rachel found herself wondering—how much of Quinn Fabray was still hidden beneath the surface? As the Fox Tribe's cheers died down, Jake stepped forward, clapping his hands together. "Alright, Foxes, that was some solid teamwork out there. Quick thinking, good communication, and a pretty impressive comeback at the end."
Olivia grinned, nudging Rachel's shoulder. "Obviously."
Jake smirked. "Don't let it go to your head, Liv." Then, looking at the whole group, he added, "Seriously, though—great effort. You guys are starting to really work as a unit, and that's what I like to see."
Ethan stretched dramatically. "Team bonding and victory? I'd say that deserves a reward."
"Your reward," Jake said, "is bragging rights—until the Wolves take their revenge in the next game."
A few groans met that statement, but before anyone could argue, a loud bell echoed across the campgrounds.
"Ah," Nate sighed. "The sweet sound of food."
"Dinner time," Jake confirmed, waving them off. "Go refuel before you collapse."
Rachel followed as the group began making their way toward the Dining Hall, feeling the pleasant exhaustion of the day settle into her limbs. But even as she laughed along with the others, she found her eyes drifting toward Quinn again. She had won them the race. And yet, she didn't look like she felt like a winner.
The Dining Hall buzzed with the usual energy of campers winding down after a long day. The Fox Tribe slid into their assigned seats, plates in hand, as the familiar sounds of clinking silverware and overlapping conversations filled the space. Tonight's meal was a mix of camp staples—some kind of roasted vegetable dish, rice, and a creamy-looking sauce drizzled over grilled chicken or soy chicken in her case. Rachel barely glanced at her plate as she settled in, still riding the high of their relay win. Quinn sat across from her, quiet as usual, absently twirling her fork as the others launched into conversation.
Rachel lifted her fork, ready to take her first bite— But in an instant, Quinn was moving. Rachel barely had time to process before Quinn reached across the table, hand wrapping around Rachel's wrist just before the food touched her lips.
"Don't," Quinn said sharply.
Rachel froze, blinking at her. "What—?"
Quinn's eyes flickered with something urgent, something almost panicked, as she quickly turned to her own plate. She hesitated only a second before grabbing her napkin, spitting out the bite she'd just taken.
"There are walnuts in the sauce."
Rachel's stomach dropped.
She looked at Quinn, then at the meal in front of her, the realization hitting her like a punch.
"How did you—" she started, her voice softer now, laced with surprise.
Quinn exhaled, rubbing at her mouth as if trying to get rid of the lingering taste. "I just— I tasted it, and I knew."
Rachel's heart hammered in her chest. She had never mentioned her allergy here or at school. She had never thought to. How would Quinn just know? The table had gone silent now, the others catching on to the shift in atmosphere. Olivia was the first to speak, her voice breaking through the moment.
"Wait, you're allergic to walnuts?"
Rachel swallowed, nodding. "Severely."
Ethan whistled under his breath. "Damn. Good catch, Fabray."
Quinn didn't respond. She was still looking at Rachel, still gripping her napkin, as if she was just now processing what almost happened. Rachel, meanwhile, wasn't sure what to process first—the fact that she had nearly eaten something dangerous, or the fact that Quinn Fabray had stopped her. Without hesitation. Without thinking. Like she had known all along. Dinner carried on around her, but Rachel felt strangely removed from it. Conversations blurred together, the usual energy of the Dining Hall pressing in on her from all sides, but she barely heard any of it. Her mind was stuck on one thing.
Quinn knew.
Finn hadn't. They had dated for months, and he had never known. Rachel wasn't even sure if he ever asked about her allergies. If they went out to eat, he just ordered whatever sounded good, never once considering whether something might be a problem for her. She had never held it against him. It wasn't like she had ever expected anyone to just know. But Quinn had. Rachel pushed her food around on her plate, sneaking a glance across the table. Quinn had barely touched her own meal since the walnut revelation, idly picking at the rice but otherwise silent. If she noticed Rachel watching, she didn't show it.
Rachel's mind spun with possibilities. Did she overhear me mention it once? No, that didn't seem likely—Rachel would have remembered ever discussing it. Did she see me check ingredient labels? That didn't make sense either. They barely interacted before camp. Was it just a lucky guess? No. Quinn had known immediately. Rachel exhaled, gripping her fork a little tighter. This wasn't the first time Quinn had surprised her, but something about this—about her knowing this tiny, unspoken thing—felt different. And Rachel had no idea what to make of it.
As the dinner bell rang for cleanup, the Fox Tribe slowly dispersed from their table. Olivia and Ethan were already debating how to spend their free time, while Nate lazily stretched, looking like he was considering a nap. Rachel, however, had only one focus. Quinn. She had barely spoken after the walnut incident, keeping her head down and eating just enough to avoid drawing attention. But Rachel had been watching, waiting—knowing that at some point, Quinn would slip away. And she was right.
The moment the group stood to leave, Quinn was already moving, quiet and deliberate, her tray abandoned as she made a beeline for the exit. Rachel didn't hesitate. She muttered something about needing air and quickly wove through the crowd, following Quinn as she stepped out into the cool evening air. The sky was soft with fading sunlight, painting everything in shades of gold and deep blue. Rachel trailed behind, keeping her steps light, watching as Quinn took the less crowded path leading toward the edge of camp.
"Are you following me?" Rachel barely had time to react before Quinn's voice cut through the quiet.
She hesitated, then stepped forward. "Yes." Quinn sighed, stopping near a small clearing where the trees thinned just enough to reveal the distant shimmer of the lake. She didn't turn around. Rachel swallowed, taking a cautious step closer. "I just… I wanted to say thank you. For what you did." Quinn shifted her weight but said nothing. Rachel pressed on. "I mean it. You didn't have to do that, and I—"
"Yeah, well, it would've been a real pain if you went into anaphylactic shock at the dinner table," Quinn muttered.
Rachel frowned. "That's not why you did it."
Quinn let out a sharp exhale, her hands flexing at her sides. "Does it matter?"
Rachel hesitated. "It does to me."
At that, Quinn finally turned, and Rachel wished she hadn't. Because the look in Quinn's eyes wasn't warmth or understanding or anything Rachel had been hoping for. It was frustration.
"What do you want, Rachel?" Quinn snapped, her voice low but edged. "Do you want some big explanation? Some reason why I knew? Why I cared? Because I don't have one."
Rachel's stomach twisted. "Quinn, I—"
"Just drop it," Quinn muttered, already turning away again.
Rachel opened her mouth, but no words came. The conversation was over. Quinn disappeared down the path, leaving Rachel standing in the dimming light, feeling the weight of everything she hadn't been able to say. Rachel didn't move for a long moment, staring down the path where Quinn had disappeared. The conversation had ended just as abruptly as it began, slipping through her fingers before she could grasp onto anything solid. But one thing lingered. Quinn had called her Rachel. Not Berry. Not RuPaul. Not Man-Hands. Just Rachel. Rachel swallowed, shifting her weight as a strange tightness settled in her chest. She had spent years hearing Quinn's voice laced with mockery, twisting her name or replacing it altogether with whatever cruel thing came to mind. But tonight, there was no mockery. There was something else instead—something raw, something real. She didn't know what to make of it. All she knew was that it made her heart pound just a little harder than it should have.
Rachel exhaled, rolling her shoulders before making her way toward the main lawn, steeling herself for whatever all-camp game was slated for the night. By the time she arrived, the crowd had already gathered. Olivia was the first to spot her, looping an arm around her with a grin. "There you are, babe. Thought you went into hiding."
Rachel forced a small smile. "Just needed a minute."
Olivia didn't pry—just squeezed her arm before turning her attention toward the picnic-table throne where Dave stood, sock of flour swinging at his side. Rachel took a breath as the buzz of excitement built around her. Whatever was still lingering from earlier would have to wait. For now, chaos was about to begin.
The entire camp gathered as Dave stood atop a picnic table. The setting sun cast a golden hue over the clearing, the anticipation buzzing through the crowd. "Alright, campers," Dave boomed, his grin wide. "It's Wednesday, which means it's time for another all-camp game! Tonight's game of choice, my personal favorite— Bonkers!" A chorus of cheers erupted across the field. "For those of you who are new," Dave continued, "here's how it works. Your goal is simple—find the hidden counselors and get their signatures. But beware, because some of our lovely staff have taken on a more… chaotic role." He spun the sock in his hand. "Some of us are Bonkers."
Scattered whoops and laughter broke out, along with the sound of someone slamming a fist against their chest in dramatic preparation.
"If you get bonked, your entire tribe must stop, drop, and scream for a medic. Only a medic can get you back in the game—and you'll have to earn it." Dave's grin widened. "Could be a dance, could be a song, could be something worse." More laughter rippled through the campers.
"Foxes, you ready?" Olivia turned to Rachel, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "You're in for a ride, babe."
Rachel furrowed her brows. "This seems… unnecessarily chaotic."
"That's the point," Ethan said, practically vibrating with excitement. "Trust me, it's hilarious."
Nate grinned. "Unless you get bonked. Then it's a nightmare."
Rachel barely had time to process that before Dave gave a final whistle.
"Alright, campers—scatter!"
The Fox Tribe moved as one, weaving through the campgrounds in search of their first hidden counselor. Olivia, Ethan, and Nate were buzzing with excitement, already strategizing while Rachel did her best to keep up, still wrapping her head around the sheer insanity of this game. They were three signatures in, feeling confident, when the first Bonker attack happened. It was sudden—a junior counselor burst out from behind a tree, sock swinging wildly. Screams erupted as they scrambled to dodge. Rachel barely ducked in time, a flour cloud bursting through the air just inches from her shoulder. Ethan let out a shout of victory when he narrowly escaped—
But Olivia? Olivia made a choice. Instead of running, she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like she had taken a fatal blow. "No!" she cried, staggering backward. "Save yourselves! Tell my story!"
Rachel's jaw dropped. "Olivia, what are you—"
But it was too late. The Bonker tapped her on the arm, a flour explosion coating her sleeve. The entire Fox Tribe froze. Then, as one, they threw their heads back and screamed for a medic. Rachel expected groans, maybe frustration at the setback. What she didn't expect was the sound that followed. Laughter. And not just from the group—from Quinn. Rachel turned sharply, eyes locking onto Quinn, who stood beside her, actually laughing. Not a smirk. Not a dry chuckle. A full, unguarded, head-tilted-back laugh. Rachel's breath caught in her throat. She had never seen Quinn laugh like that before. Not at McKinley. Not anywhere. The moment passed quickly. Quinn caught herself, masking her expression, but Rachel had seen it. And now, she couldn't stop thinking about it.
Rachel turns to the rest of the tribe, breathless. "Where's the medic?"
Silence. Then, from somewhere behind her—
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Ethan mutters.
Rachel turns to follow his gaze, and—oh. Oh. The medic—their only hope of revival—is currently halfway across the field, completely oblivious to their plight. More concerningly, he appears to be locked in an interpretive dance battle with another tribe's medic, waving his arms like one of those inflatable tube men at a car dealership. "MEDIC!" Nate yells.
No response.
"MEDIIIIIIIIIIC!"
Finally, the tie-dye-clad counselor turns, adjusting his ridiculous neon sunglasses. He gasps so dramatically that even Rachel is briefly impressed.
"Oh no," he says, voice dripping with theatrical horror. "The Foxes have fallen."
"Yes!" Nate shouts. "We're bonked! Come save us!"
The medic gasps again. Louder. More dramatically. "I can't just heal you," he declares, shaking his head. "That would be too easy. No, no, no. To be healed… a champion must rise."
A beat of silence. The Fox Tribe stares at him. The medic, arms crossed, slowly surveys the fallen tribe, humming thoughtfully like he's casting for a Broadway revival. Then—his sunglasses-covered gaze lands on Quinn. "You." He points.
Quinn, still catching her breath, immediately scowls. "Excuse me?"
"You," the medic repeats, waggling his fingers like he's bestowing a divine prophecy. "You have been chosen to save your people." Quinn stares at him. Then at the rest of the tribe, who are all watching. Rachel included. Quinn exhales sharply through her nose. As though can feel the weight of every single expectation in the universe crushing down on her. "Your task," the medic continues, oblivious to her suffering, "is to perform the legendary Chicken Dance of Resurrection."
Rachel fully expects Quinn to just shut this down immediately. Roll her eyes. Refuse. Say something cutting and walk off. Instead—Quinn stands. Rachel blinks. For a second, Quinn doesn't move. She just breathes, standing there in the middle of the field, sunlight catching the strands of blonde that have come loose from her ponytail. Then—her gaze flicks up. Right to Rachel. It's brief, barely a second, but Rachel feels it—that strange, unreadable weight in Quinn's expression, something caught between defiance and acceptance, hesitation and inevitability. Like she knows she should fight this, but for some reason… she isn't. Rachel isn't sure why her heart does something weird in her chest.
Then Quinn exhales, so sharp it's almost a scoff, and mutters, "Fuck's sake," under her breath. And with that, she dusts off her shorts, rolls her shoulders, and—without another word—lifts her hands. With the most deadpan, unimpressed expression imaginable, she lifts her hands and— Flap. Flap. Wiggle. Clap.
It is—perfect.
The Fox Tribe loses their minds. Nate actually collapses. Ethan is howling. Olivia is clapping along, chanting, "GO QUINN, GO QUINN." And Quinn? Quinn is still dead serious—for a full three seconds. Then, somewhere in the middle of the second round of wiggling, something breaks. Her movements get bigger. More ridiculous. Her mouth twitches. And then—she actually grins.
Rachel? Rachel cannot process this. Because Quinn is not just playing along—she's enjoying it. She looks… free. Happy. Unburdened. Rachel doesn't understand it. Not at all. But she wants to see it again.
The medic throws his arms wide. "IT IS DONE. YOUR PEOPLE HAVE BEEN RESTORED." Quinn snaps back into herself. Like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Her grin drops. Her arms fall stiffly to her sides. She blinks, like she's just remembered who she is, where she is, and how completely ridiculous that just was. Heat crawls up Quinn's neck.
She clears her throat, face shuttering back into neutrality, and mutters, "Well, that's done." Then, as the rest of the Fox Tribe cheers and celebrates, Quinn turns sharply on her heel and strides back toward the game, pointedly not looking at Rachel. Rachel watches her go, and for the first time, she isn't just confused by Quinn Fabray. She's curious.
With their resurrection complete, the Fox Tribe launches back into the game, weaving through the chaos of Bonkers with renewed energy. They're dodging, diving, narrowly avoiding getting bonked again—and then, somewhere in the middle of it, Ethan skids to a stop, eyes wide. "Wait," he says, turning to the others. "Has anyone seen Jake?" Rachel blinks, then looks around like she expects their counselor to materialize from thin air. The Foxes all exchange glances.
"Wait…" Olivia says slowly. "Was he ever with us?" A horrible realization dawns.
"No," Nate murmurs. "Oh my god. He's a hider."
Silence. Then—chaos.
"Oh, come ON."
"Damn it, Jake."
"We've been out here struggling while he's playing cryptid in the woods?"
Rachel crosses her arms. "Well, now we have to find him."
Ethan points dramatically. "Hunting party. Let's move."
The deeper they go, the quieter it gets—until the sounds of the game fade entirely, swallowed by the rustling leaves and distant chirps of birds. Rachel sighs, glancing around. "Where do you even start looking for someone who doesn't want to be found?"
"We think like Jake," Olivia says, stepping over a fallen log.
"We don't think at all?" Quinn mutters.
Ethan grins. "Exactly."
The Foxes fan out, scanning the area—checking behind trees, under bushes, even up in the branches. Nothing. Then a noise, a soft rustling. Like something—or someone—moving, just out of sight. Quinn turns, eyes narrowing. And then she sees it. Or rather—There, half-buried in a pile of leaves, wearing a ghillie suit like some kind of deranged swamp cryptid, is Jake. Their counselor. His eyes, the only visible part of him, lock onto without thinking, Quinn points directly at him. "There."
Jake does not move. Quinn's eyes narrow further. Rachel steps up beside her. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
A long pause. Then, without breaking eye contact, Jake slowly, painstakingly, lowers himself further into the leaves. "No," Quinn deadpans. "No, absolutely not."
She marches forward and kicks at the leaves. Jake erupts from the ground, flailing. "AHHH! I WAS SO CLOSE!" The Fox Tribe erupts into cheers and laughter.
"I knew it!" Ethan howls. "I knew he'd take this too seriously."
Jake sighs, brushing leaves from his hair. "I was supposed to be the last one standing."
"You were literally underground," Olivia says, still laughing. "This was too much."
Jake places a hand over his heart. "Is it too much… or is it commitment?"
"Too much," Quinn says flatly, but she's fighting a smirk.
Jake sighs again. "Fine. You got me," before signing their piece of paper.
The Fox Tribe emerges from the woods victorious in their hunt for Jake, spirits high, energy buzzing, ready to win this thing. They bolt back onto the field, dodging last-minute bonking attempts, collecting signatures as fast as they can, racing against the final then—
THE HORN BLOWS.
The game is over. Chaos melts into breathless excitement as all the tribes gather around Dave in the center of the field, sweat-soaked, grass-stained, still laughing and catching their breath. "Alright, alright!" Dave calls over the lingering chatter. "Let's tally those scores!"
A tense silence settles as counselors rush forward, counting up the signatures each tribe collected. The Fox Tribe, still riding their high, stands tall—Quinn somehow at the front of the group, beside Rachel, arms crossed, pretending she isn't invested in this. Nate bounces on his toes. "We've got this. We have to have this."
Jake, still picking leaves out of his hair, mutters, "Unless someone else went completely unhinged."
Ethan, deadpan: "Jake, you hid underground. You went completely unhinged."
Dave holds up a hand. "Okay, folks—results are in!"
Tension. Silence. The dramatic pause of all dramatic pauses. And then—
"In third place, with fourteen signatures—Otter Tribe!" A loud groan rises from the Otters, followed by a round of applause as they take their third-place finish with reluctant pride. Then—
"In second place, with seventeen signatures—Fox Tribe!"
The Foxes erupt into cheers, whooping and hollering, high-fives all around. Nate collapses onto Ethan. "Seventeen! Seventeen!"
Olivia fist-pumps. "Hell yeah, second place!"
Rachel turns towards Quinn, grinning—and without thinking, reaches out and grabs her wrist, squeezing just for a second, like she's trying to pull her into the celebration. Quinn freezes. Then it's gone, Rachel's attention pulled away by Olivia, who's already talking about their strategy for next time. And then—
"In first place, with eighteen signatures—Bear Tribe!"
The Bears roar in triumph, leaping into an absolute dogpile of celebration. The Fox Tribe groans, but good-naturedly—because they came close. So, so close. Ethan sighs. "Damn. One more and we could've had it."
Jake, arms crossed, completely serious, "If I had had ten more minutes hidden in that bush, we would've had it. Sorry guys the Bears saw my spot after you left."
Quinn actually snorts, but catches herself immediately, clearing her throat. "Guess we'll get them next time."
Her head turns before she can even think about it. Quinn said that. Rachel watches as Quinn swipes her hands over her shorts like she's brushing off dirt, her face carefully neutral. But there's something about it. About the way she said we. Like she didn't even realize she'd done it. Rachel doesn't say anything. She just looks at her. And then—Quinn notices. It's a small thing, the way Quinn stiffens, like she's just caught herself slipping. Her eyes flick to Rachel's, just for a second, before she quickly looks away, like if she ignores it, maybe it won't be real. Rachel doesn't know why, but she feels the moment settle into her chest like a secret.
Before she can think too much about it, Olivia throws an arm over her shoulder, already dragging her into a conversation with Nate. The tribe is moving again, heading toward back towards the cabins, buzzing with the energy of competition and near-victory. Rachel lets herself get swept up in it. But out of the corner of her eye, she sees Quinn following. And for some reason, it makes her smile.
By the time the Fox Tribe makes it back to their cabin area, the excitement of the evening has started to settle into a comfortable haze. Camp is buzzing with leftover energy from the game, conversations overlapping in the twilight as campers gather in small clusters to wind down. The dining hall's windows glow warmly in the distance, a few stragglers still finishing up post-bonfire snacks. Somewhere near the lake, a group of counselors plays guitar, the soft chords blending into the hum of the night.
Rachel walks alongside Olivia and Nate, still caught up in the lingering thrill of almost winning Bonkers. Ethan is behind them, making an elaborate case for how the Foxes would have won if only their medic had been more responsible and less feral. Quinn walks slightly ahead of the group, hands in her pockets, posture relaxed in a way that Rachel isn't used to seeing. She seems… lighter. Rachel notices it more than she means to.
The group slows as they reach Cabin 12, murmuring goodnights and peeling off toward their rooms. Olivia heads toward Room 6, giving Rachel a little wave before slipping inside. Further down the hall, Maya disappears into her own room, their conversation still carrying softly through the cabin. Rachel stops in front of Room 4 and glances at Quinn, who is already pushing inside. Rachel hesitates for a second before following.
The room is dim, the only light coming from the outdoor lanterns filtering in through the window. Quinn is already moving around, pulling a t-shirt from her bag, her back to Rachel. Rachel hesitates for a second before shutting the door behind her. The room is quieter than it was last night, but it isn't the same kind of tense. Still, there's something Rachel isn't ready to let go of. "I know you don't want me to, but I'm going to say it anyway."
Quinn doesn't look up. "Say what?"
Rachel exhales. "Thank you."
Quinn groans, barely audible, like she knew this was coming. "Again?"
Rachel crosses her arms. "Yes, again. Because you didn't let me finish last time."
Quinn yanks her shoes off, tossing them toward the side of her bed. "That was on purpose."
Rachel ignores that. "I just don't understand why you won't take the compliment."
Quinn sighs, dragging a hand through her ponytail before turning around, finally facing her. "Rachel, it was nothing. It was a dinner plate and some walnut sauce."
Rachel notices it immediately this time. The way Quinn says her name. The first time had been earlier that night—after dinner, when Rachel had tried to thank her the first time. She'd been surprised then, thrown off by hearing Quinn say it without sarcasm, without venom, without distance. But now? Now it's happening again. Rachel isn't sure why that matters, why it makes something tighten in her chest, like she's noticing a shift she wasn't prepared for. But she doesn't have time to figure it out before she continues.
"That's not nothing to me," Rachel says, pushing forward, ignoring the way her thoughts are spinning. Quinn presses her lips together, like she's debating whether or not to keep arguing. Rachel doesn't give her the chance. "And I still want to know how you knew."
Quinn freezes, just for a second. Not enough for someone else to notice, but Rachel is watching her closely now. She sees the way Quinn's fingers curl slightly against her knee, the way she shifts like she's not sure how to respond. Then—without looking at Rachel—Quinn mutters, "You always ask."
Rachel frowns. "What?"
Quinn exhales, sharp but not quite annoyed. "In the cafeteria. At school."
Rachel stares, trying to piece together what that means. She's always been careful at lunch, always checked what she was eating, but she never thought about anyone else noticing. Certainly not Quinn.
"You… pay attention to that?"
Quinn keeps her eyes fixed on some arbitrary point on the floor. "It's not hard to notice."
Rachel doesn't know what to do with that answer. She should feel satisfied, because now she has it—the reason Quinn knew about the walnut sauce. But instead, she feels something else entirely. Because this wasn't an accident. It wasn't some lucky guess or some coincidence. Quinn had noticed. Not just today, not just at dinner—before. At school. Rachel opens her mouth, not sure what she's going to say, but Quinn cuts her off before she can figure it out.
"Don't make it weird," Quinn mutters, rubbing at the back of her neck. "It was just dinner."
Rachel isn't sure if she believes that. But she lets it go. For now. She sighs, moving toward her bed. "Goodnight, Quinn." Quinn mutters the same as she flips off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Rachel stares at the ceiling for a long time after that. Because Quinn has called her Rachel twice now. And Rachel isn't sure why but that feels important.