Author's Note:

Here's the second half of the March 2013 update. This one is quite a bit longer, and includes a large jump in time.

The POV is switching between Santana, Quinn, and Rachel, so try to keep up.

Again, review if you want to and all mistakes are mine.

Have you ever woken up with the feeling that some game-changing shit is about to go down? I sure have and let me tell you, it's a real bitch.

I'm not sure if it was the impending knowledge that Berry and the ex-New Directions would be descending upon our crappy studio apartment or just because the seasons were changing and everything seemed to have been going too smoothly, but I woke up Thursday around noon (getting up early is for losers) with an obnoxious inkling. Of course I didn't have much time to think about this sudden revelation because the beautiful woman I'd be happy to spend the rest of my life with pounced on me almost as soon as my eyes opened.

Twenty minutes (and a couple rounds) later the feeling returned in the shower. I should've been more concerned about leaving Britt in the kitchen alone with all of that food and a hot oven, but all I could think was that today would be different from any Thanksgiving yet. In the past most of mine had been predictable. There were the ones when I was little with memories full of loud family and my abuela at the head of the table, screaming abuse. Then there were the past couple years spent at Brittany's with nice clothes and table settings and guests that used proper speech.

This year was going to be different. There would be no extended family, no future in-laws (fingers crossed, Lopez), no mothers to command the kitchen or straighten the table cloth. It was a little daunting and I hated to admit that it was actually partially my fault, so my plan of action was to pretty much deny having any part in the plan whatsoever and be as unhelpful as possible.

This course of action was ruined as soon as I caught the pointed look that Brittany shot me when I wandered out of the bedroom in my sweats and damp hair, desperate for coffee and a lazy day off. It's like she knows exactly what I'm plotting all the time and is there to intercept my devious tendencies. Every time I try to avoid acting like the responsible (semi) adult that I'm supposed to be she just pulls me back in line. It's frustrating as hell but it's one of the things I'm really thankful for.

"San you realize we have to cook for thirteen people today, not to mention cleaning this place and getting the extra chairs from the nice gentleman down the hall? And I almost burned the pie thanks to your stamina."

I wasn't sure whether to be pissed off, offended, or flattered by her words. I could never really get angry at Brittany, especially when she looked so cute in her flour strewn apron and that messy bun. And it didn't help that the compliment/complaint that she'd thrown in had left me blushing. But then I did some mental math and rolled my eyes.

"Twelve, B, we're only cooking for twelve. Q's not going to come. So I guess that means I've got twenty extra minutes to sit around and mentally prepare myself to house the atrocity that is Rachel Berry until I become your kitchen slave. And that 'nice gentleman' is only letting us borrow the chairs and tables because he couldn't take his eyes off my tits for long enough to consider saying no."

Now she looked pissed. I knew that is was probably a combination of, well, everything I had just said. Brittany didn't like laziness or me using my boobs to get us free stuff or me being mean to anyone, or, above all, me mentioning the fact that we were probably never going to hear from Quinn Fabray ever again. It was pretty much my only regret that I didn't talk to Quinn before she left us back in June.

If I had just found her then maybe we could've avoided this whole "Quinn disappeared" mess. Unfortunately I was too busy ripping Brittany's clothes off in the second floor bathroom one last time (for old time's sake) and she got away. She'd told us back in winter that she got into Yale and was probably going to go there, but when I called the enrollment office on a whim in September and sweet talked the receptionist there was no record of a Lucy or Quinn Fabray other than in admissions where it said she'd been accepted.

I knew Quinn wasn't a total moron that would throw away her education, but I also didn't know where else she'd planned on going to school. So being the sneaky bitch that I am, I hacked the school records with some tricks I'd learned from my days as Sue Sylvester's faithful captain. I mean honestly, Emma Pillsbury's firewall was an actual shame and took about five seconds to break through.

People don't realize how smart Britts and I can be when it comes to technology stuff, even if B claims she can't turn on a computer. She just likes to fuck with people's heads, really. She actually helped me with a few hard-drive wipings back in the days when I was in the closet (couldn't let the parents find some of my more sensitive downloads).

Anyway, we sat down and found out that Q had actually gotten into more schools than just Yale. She had scholarship offers from NYU and Stanford, but the one that stuck out to us was the full-ride to Northwestern. I knew for a fact that she wasn't going anywhere near New York with all of us around and that California had always frustrated her when we went to cheerleading camp there (something about it seeming like another, stranger planet with more idiots). That left the "Medill School of Journalism" at NU, a little footnote that we had stumbled across in her file.

I honestly had no idea where that school even was but a google search informed Brittany and I that it was in Illinois. My immediate reaction had been to laugh because we'd just gotten word from Porcelain and his elf-minion Eyebrows that Barbra herself had relocated to Chicago. But then I figured that Northwestern was probably nowhere near Chi-city and I really didn't give that much of a shit because Q had ditched us either way.

Brittany and I had sat down and decided that we weren't going to tell anyone. I had originally wanted to call Mercedes right away and stop my homegirl from worrying so much but Brittany had taken the phone from my hands. She said that if either of us ever wanted to disappear that Quinn would totally have our backs and her lips would be sealed like Rachel's legs, so we had to do the same.

It totally sucked but what can you do? I was just glad that at least Quinn was (probably) at school and having a better time than she would have had with us. Brittany brought me out of my flashback with a firm hand on my shoulder.

Rachel parked the car in the F Lot of the massive Remote (not an overstatement) Parking area and hopped out of the driver's seat. It was about eleven a.m. and they had two hours until their flight but she was always prepared. Quinn was still sitting in the passenger seat looking as pale as she had when Rachel had picked her up a little less than an hour ago.

"Quinn we're in this together and as tough as it's going to be, I'll be next to you the whole time. Worst-case scenario we end up in a hotel and spend the trip sightseeing or catch a show on Broadway, don't worry about it."

This seemed to make the other girl relax and she looked up at Rachel who was standing outside of the open car with their bags next to each other and an expectant look on her face. Rachel tried to look as loose as possible but in reality, she was tense. She'd been lucky enough to have Quinn all to herself for the past month and they'd gotten to know each other again, for real this time. She wasn't sure if she was ready to share her new Quinn with everyone else, but they needed to face reality.

It was the holiday season and therefore time for both of them to return to their families, well, family that they had been actively avoiding for the better part of six months. It was like a rite of passage to return and re-unite with loved ones after spending time apart, and as young adults they needed to participate.

A weight was lifted off of her shoulders when Quinn unbuckled her seatbelt, adjusted the soft rib-knit beanie on her head, and exited the vehicle to grab her army-green canvas duffel from where it sat, lumpy and vintage on the concrete of the parking lot. Rachel watched her hoist the bag over her shoulder and locked the car before grabbing the handle of her black wheeled suitcase and following the other girl to the shuttle bus.

They sat quietly until they arrived at the electric tram station where they made it up the escalator and barely through the closing doors of the tram. When the thing started moving Rachel lost her footing and fell into Quinn who caught her deftly as if she'd been expecting it. Rachel blushed slightly at the tight grip the stressed-looking blonde was holding her in and straightened up, regaining her composure.

"See, Quinn, what would I do without you?"

The other girl just shrugged and looked down at the beat-up PF Flyers she was wearing and Rachel let out a long (yet relatively un-dramatic) sigh. It was going to be a long trip.

"Santana, we're setting the table for thirteen because this is a family with thirteen members. Do you remember last year when my Pop-Pop died and we still set his place at Christmas anyway? Quinn's not dead but it's the right thing to do. Rachel Berry is not that bad, you said so yourself last weekend when we decided she was staying on our couch. And I don't really have an argument for the man down the hall but maybe you could wear a sweatshirt when you go to pick up the chairs?"

I sighed because she was right and I was being selfish. Everyone else missed Quinn too, and we were a family, despite the lack of blood-relation, so we ate as a family and we made sure everyone had a seat at the table. Brittany was never one for leaving others out, even if others didn't necessarily want to associate (or play) with her.

"Fine. When're the boys and Kurt coming over? I'm not about to throw out my back lifting all those extra chairs and tables from the freakin' basement. And you're sure that Tina has us covered on the wine front? Because once again I am not dealing with all of these people in my home without at least a little something buzzin' in my system."

I was deadly serious about that last bit, I would probably lose the cool composure that I'd gained (Britt was so proud) and rip someone's head off for spilling on the tablecloth that we'd picked out at IKEA a few weeks ago.

There was also no way I was going to carry the two extra tables and the seven chairs (we only had four and Artie didn't need one) all the way up here, even if the elevator decided to work today. Not to mention the fire hazard that the apartment was about to become, because even my (obnoxiously) wealthy parents couldn't afford us a place big enough for these sorts of festivities.

"The boys will be here in an hour and Tina already has the wine, she texted. She's picking up Mercedes and Artie who get in at three because Mike's jeep has room for the chair. Puck, Finn, and Sam are getting in at four and they're taking a cab. Rachel should be here at five because she could only get a later flight, something about last-minute tickets, and that's all of us."

I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Leave it to Brittany to be on top of things when thought I had left absolutely everything to the last minute.

"Oh good, Hobbit's gonna be the last one in."

Rachel looked down at her phone one last time before turning on airplane mode. The itinerary that Brittany had emailed her the day before, and was now in her Notes application (Quinn had scoffed at her use of the Comic Sans font, calling it a disgrace and a good reason to not go) had their (well, the list said her) flight getting in last after the one that had the boys coming from Ohio. She gulped, remembering that in a few short hours she would have to be cordial and pleasant to Finn. They'd avoided each other since the fights had finally stopped but she still felt tense every time she thought of him.

This time it was Quinn's turn to do the comforting as she seemed to notice Rachel's hand gripping the armrest. She leaned in and whispered patient, calming words into the smaller girl's ear.

"Everyone's going to be there, including me. He'll have no excuse to be rude and if he does remember our Plan B and some cheap tickets that have your name on them."

Her words were perfect and the brunette felt her grip on the armrest relax as the plane began to taxi and Quinn tangled their fingers together, squeezing tightly. Neither of them particularly enjoyed flying, something Rachel remembered from the trips to Nationals with the New Directions. Quinn had shifted restlessly in her seat across the aisle their senior year, her short hair in her face and a blanket tangled around her. Today she seemed eerily calm, but her mood reflected onto Rachel's current state of mind and she closed her eyes, letting herself get some rest before what was sure to be a long evening.

At this point Brittany looked like she was already sick of me making Berry digs, and she simply crossed her arms and stared me down with her crystal blues in a way that said "I'm thoroughly unimpressed with your whiny and childish behavior". I gave up, knowing that Rachel didn't really deserve them anyway. From what Kurt had told us she was doing all right in Chicago. I actually felt a little bad (and a little surprised I must admit) that she hadn't landed a big role yet, and that she had been deterred from following her dreams by that nasty breakup with Finn.

I hoped that they didn't spend the entire weekend fighting because that would really fuck shit up for the rest of us. I planned on having a nice time and partying it up with everyone, provided that they had all gotten less lame since high school. Even back when I hated all of them I'd never been able to picture us as a group of people that just split up and didn't see each other until the five-year class reunion. We were kind of stuck with each other forever after all the crap we went through together at McKinley.

Of course I hadn't exactly been able to picture Brittany and I hosting Thanksgiving at our apartment in New York, but our place was the biggest (it pays to have doctor parents) and everything had sort of just come together that way.

"Santana if you're going to complain all day I'm going to get Puck and Finn to carry you to the roof and then you'll have to eat dinner alone."

She was joking but it still seemed like a threat, so I snuck a kiss to the corner of her mouth and set to chopping the carrots for the stuffing. I wasn't exactly excited to be cooking but I knew Brittany would go crazy, her newfound patience for recipes only lasting so long. It felt super domestic to be standing here in the kitchen with the love of my life cooking Thanksgiving dinner. I swore I was going soft when I almost teared up after she asked me to "please baste the turkey babe." I mean seriously, Wanky, but it was the fucking turkey. How lame.

When Mike and Blaine showed up with a giddy-looking Kurt I gave out a cry of relief and joined the boys (minus Kurt, women belong in the kitchen) in the trip down to the basement storage area where our neighbor had all of his extra furniture. It was actually wooden and classy and somewhat matched our chairs and table so I wasn't too upset that all of it weighed a freakin' ton.

Blaine and I both had a gym membership at the same place and we worked out together all the time, and Mike was just freakishly muscular, so lifting it all wasn't so bad. We joked and swore and sang "The Climb" after the elevator stopped working halfway through and we had to carry things up to the sixth floor on the stairs. I had been kind of glad when the two of them had proposed a night out early into the fall semester. They were two of the more intellectually solid guys in the club and neither of them had ever tried to get in my pants back in high school, so nothing was awkward between us. I'd even been able to convince Blaine to start wearing socks. Sometimes.

Rachel felt the tip of a finger prodding her cheek as she woke, shifting in the uncomfortable airplane seat. She looked to her right to see Quinn's hazel orbs staring her down, her lip tucked between her teeth as if she was trying to suppress a laugh.

"You looked super snuggly sleeping, Rach, but we're landing in an hour and I knew you didn't want to miss the view out of the window." The blonde giggled, seeming to notice her consonance and she pointed out of the oval-shaped window to where an endless field of clouds was suspended in the air.

Rachel yawned, releasing the pressure in her ears and marveled at the sky outside of the plane. This had to be her favorite part of flying, something she had only ever done a couple of times. She looked down at her tray-table and noticed a cup of what seemed to be hot tea.

"With lemon" Quinn said, reading her mind. "I knew that your throat would probably be a little sore from the daytime nap and I remember the sudden urges you get to burst into song whenever we're in New York. Wouldn't want you sounding anything less than stellar, would we now?" The blonde poked her forehead and went back to whatever novel it was that she was reading. Rachel took a deep sip of her tea and sighed, relishing the thoughtfulness of her friend. Well, best friend, as it seemed that Quinn was quickly filling that role. And she was doing a fantastic job of it.

When they finally did begin to descend, their hands found each other again, as they both squeezed their eyes shut. As much as Rachel wanted to marvel at the city from above, she just couldn't handle the uneasy feeling in her stomach that came with the dips and turns. Their fingers didn't separate until long after the landing gear hit the tarmac and the seatbelt sign had been turned off.

When we finished hauling the last table up the stairs we were greated by familiar voices coming from the kitchen where strong smells of food had started to build. I could hear Tina's shrill laugh along with Mercede's deep chortles. The three of us set down the table unceremoniously in the front entrance and ran into the kitchen. Mercedes was behind the counter stirring something in a saucepan and swatting at a hovering Kurt, and apron covering his pristine outfit. Tina was grating cheese to put over the squash bake. Artie was at the table folding napkins and Brittany was sitting on one of our barstools looking grumpy.

"What's wrong, Britt?" I asked, immediately concerned about her even though our friends were there.

"Damn Satan, is that any way to treat your guests? Nobody ever taught you how to greet a sista?. Babygirl here has been slaving away in this hot kitchen all day and we decided to make her take a break. All that fussing is no good for your perfect skin, honey!"

"Oh Wheezy, how I missed your sass. Thanks for making B here take a break, she'll end up tired and miserable otherwise. It's good to see all of you."

That left all of them stunned, even Mercedes had winced as soon as I'd opened my mouth, expecting some sort of verbal smackdown. I guess none of them had been informed of my attempts to tone it down since graduation, which was especially obvious now that Mercedes was laying the ghetto on thick just for the occasion. Brittany and I had sat down one time after we'd both had a particularly long day of classes and I realized that I hadn't been rude to anyone all day. I had even been courteous to the people in my lecture hall, and Brittany hadn't been nervous at all when meeting new people, introducing herself and not saying random things as a defense mechanism.

We'd both decided that like Blaine and apparently Rachel we had a few things we wanted to change about ourselves. I didn't need the HBIC act any more than Quinn had, and she'd dropped it successfully a year ago. Brittany didn't need to act dumb or innocent to get people to like her, she just had to be her fun, loose self and work more on maturing as a person.

Looking around I saw that all of us had grown up. There were the changes in Kurt and Blaine that we'd all noticed, both of them letting loose a little more. Mike and Tina had sort of reinvented themselves, growing up and looking more mature and independent. Mercedes seemed to have lost a fair amount of weight and Artie had obviously started dressing himself and switched to a smaller, sleeker wheelchair.

We all looked like adults but we still felt like we had back in the days of rehearsals and performances and we started laughing and reminiscing, singing along to the radio that we had cranked up, probably bugging the hell out of our neighbors who were home.

When the doorbell rang again Mike went sprinting to the door as the rest of us laughed and watched the reunion that followed the appearance of the rest of the boys. Sam stood a little straighter and seemed to be smiling more than ever, and Puck had finally let his hair grow out to a normal acceptable length that spanned his entire head. No more childish mohawk. Finn looked a lot like he had back at McKinley, but he seemed more humble, thank God, and he seemed to have ditched those awful polos that accentuated his man-boobs.

I couldn't believe that the likes of Quinn and Berry had fallen for such a lame guy, but then again he was a safe bet and he generally tried to be kind. But there was a sort of glint of sadness in his eyes when he spanned the room and saw that not everyone was there. I wasn't sure who he was missing, but I knew that a huge reason he had actually showed up instead of spending the holiday at Burt and Carol's was seeing Rachel again. Or maybe the chance of seeing Quinn. Not that there was one, none of us trusted her contact information anymore, but he was always a hopeful guy.

The last time I had seen him was in July when we were all helping Mike and Tina pack their stuff into the UHAUL that they were planning on driving. Everyone was still sort of pissed off at him for treating Rachel like shit, and I never particularly liked him, but he seemed upset. I had had no remorse for him at the time. Berry may be obnoxious as hell but if I had to make a decision between her and Finn I'd side with the she-hobbit every time, everyone would, even Quinn.

I remember walking with Quinn one time in the hallway when they were arguing around the time they called it quits. To me it felt like a welcome change from the incessant lip-lock style PDA that was always happening when they were around, but the fighting really seemed to tick Quinn off.

We were standing near my (and Britt's) locker just lurking the way we usually did and watching the drama unfold. I was mentally cheering for Berry and I had originally thought that Q's allegiance lay with Lurch but then I noticed that she kept flinching every time Finn said something particularly idiotic and hurtful. I shrugged it off figuring that Quinn had just wished she could lay into Rachel like that, but looking back I think that she felt for the midget. All of us sort of did.

Sure, Finn was the heroic leader type who gave a couple of epic speeches and invented Lady Music Week but he could also be a total douche. He outed me, messed with Quinn's head, called Brittany an idiot more times than I can count, and screwed Berry over in more ways than one. I was sort of glad for a moment that Rachel wasn't there yet, I think everyone else was too.

Brittany gave me this look that totally said "shit San what have we gotten ourselves in to?" and I just gulped and nodded back, trying to communicate the message of "please help me do damage control when manhands shows up" to her with my eyes. She seemed to understand so I went back to being the gracious hostess that I was.

Being the (large-mouthed) Southern gentleman (not to be confused with the creep down the hall) that he was, Sam helped me set the table. He joked through the entire thing, doing ridiculous impressions and putting the forks on the wrong side of the plate, but we eventually got it all figured out around the same time that Brittany announced dinner time.

At least five of us seemed to all look at our watches simultaneously and then stop talking, because Rachel wasn't there yet. As ridiculous as it seemed, I didn't and I'm sure none of them felt comfortable starting without her. It was a little after five and she was late, something that surprised all of us.

This was it. This was their moment of truth, the moment when the avoidance they'd both been practicing for months would finally come to an end and all of the silliness would be over. Of course Brittany and Santana's elevator was broken and they'd (well, Quinn had done all the work, bless her) been forced to lug their bags all the way up to the sixth floor. Rachel hoped that the two ex-Cheerios had some great roof access that came along with living on the top floor because otherwise, the trek just wasn't worth it.

She and Quinn were standing in front of the large door, both biting their lips and both looking more nervous than either had seen the other in a long time.

"Are you freaking out as much as I am right now?" Quinn asked, rather unhelpfully. Rachel looked over to where the blonde stood, fidgeting, and realized that the cards were in her hands. She had to maintain her composure for both of their sake's.

"I'm fine, Quinn, and so are you. Now I'm going to knock on the door and then somebody we know is going to answer it, and you and I are going to greet our New Directions family as if nothing had ever happened, just like we planned. Then we're going to sit down and have a lovely meal and crash on Brittany and Santana's couch and I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, and neither are the eleven lovely people on the other side of this door."

This seemed to work well in calming both of them down, and Rachel congratulated herself on her speech-giving abilities before knocking three times on the door.

When we all heard the three knocks there was an immediate buzz that went around the room, pulling everyone out of their little bubbles of conversation. I beat Brittany to the door by literally half a second and she backed off, whispering in my ear to remind me to be nice. I rolled my eyes and pulled open the door only to be met with a sight I definitely hadn't expected.

The first thing I noticed was that Berry actually looked sort of normal in that dress and those cute Toms, which freaked me out. And then I noticed Quinn.

I'd only opened the door a quarter of the way, and judging by the lack of a collective gasp, nobody else in the apartment had actually seen them yet. Quinn was dressed totally differently than I had ever seen her, but she was rockin' it. Her eyes looked scared, though, like she was telling me to please do this as slowly and as carefully as possible. I nodded, showing her that I understood what I meant, and I leaned in and gave Berry the most incredibly awkward hug in history as I whispered loud enough for both of them to hear.

"All right Berry, game plan. You waltz in like the happy person you are and announce that you've brought a guest, but give me about ten seconds before you do. Q, wipe the pants-shitting look off of your face and crack a smile, not wide and creepy but like, normal for once. Please. Everyone will momentarily freak out and then Britts and I will make sure Quinn gets the floor to explain herself."

Rachel flapped her lips like she had something she wanted to say but she gave up and just nodded. Quinn was already trying to compose a convincing smile like the trooper she was and I nodded pointedly before swinging the door halfway open and ushering Rachel in. I found Brittany's eyes immediately and flashed her the "panic" look we'd practiced over and over in high school. She understood immediately, the brilliant, beautiful girl and mouthed to me "Quinn's here?" I nodded and couldn't help but cheer at her deductive powers of reasoning.

She already seemed to be plotting something in her brain and Berry was halfway through announcing her surprise. When she finished and the door swung open, I half expected the hallway to be empty and vacated of Quinn, but she just stood there looking beautiful and disheveled and sheepish.

The collective gasp was like something out of those daytime-television shows where the "live audience" tells you what emotions to feel. Quinn's smile was maintained but was slowly fading to a look of pain, something reminiscent of the final moments of most of the routines we'd drilled together back on the Cheerios. Wide. Creepy.

Leave it to Rachel Berry to have to be the best at everything, even surprises, because most of the other people in the room really did look like their eyes were going to pop out of their head. Quinn was shifting awkwardly and the whole thing was about to turn into kind of a mess, but then Brittany jumped in and saved the day like the wonderful woman that she is.

"Oh, it's so great that you guys are here. You have like, the most perfect timing ever Rachel, we were just getting the food on the table. Come on everybody, sit down before the Tofurkey gets cold!"

I shot Quinn a look that tried to convey the message of "my woman just saved your ass but the shit-storm ain't over yet" and hurried to my seat at the head of the table. Everyone else followed because thankfully not all that much had changed and they all still listened to me and did whatever I said. That was both refreshing and upsetting, as if their obedience was adding to the already mounting tension in the room.

Quinn and Rachel had stood furthest away from the table, and they were forced to squeeze awkwardly into two seats on the walled-in side of the table. Rachel sat next to Brittany, who was nearest to me at the head and Quinn sat by her side, awkwardly shifting away from Mike, who was staring awkwardly at his napkin.

Leave it to the glee club nerds to have the most awkward reunion centered around a family-based holiday that ever was. In order to break the silence that had covered the room thickly enough to allow for whistles to come from hot dishes, I shuffled the potholders near the turkey and subtly clanged some silverware.

With the attention of the entire table of awkward and suddenly childish people drawn towards me, I cleared my throat and began what was hopefully an ass-kicking speech to start an ass-kicking meal.

"So, friends, nerds, countrymen. We're gathered here today in this near-windowless space to celebrate some good, old, American values. Those being eating and family, as well as butter. We've had our share of shit since we all got to know each other, and even though there's a little weirdness going on today, I propose that we ignore it until the dreadful Black Friday is upon us, and enjoy this meal."

I finished off my improvised call to action with a weird little squeal due to the 24 eyes staring glossily at my face, but my friends seemed to buy it, and the feasting began.

Quinn sat on the gravel surface with her back to the ledge with the heels of her sneakers dug into the small stones. She hadn't had the courage to raise the cigarette to her lips since she'd lit it over a minute ago, afraid of the wrath that could be incurred from Rachel if she found out the blonde had smoked anything at all.

She sighed as she watched the swirls of smoke float upwards into the loud, New York air, the autumn breeze feeling just a bit sharper than usual today.

Dinner (if that's what you could call a meal eaten so early) had been a strained affair, everyone trying to live up to Santana's command to project normalcy onto a meal that was just as abnormal as possible.

It wasn't her fault, Quinn thought, it was Rachel who had brought her here. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel.

When they first met high school, the blonde couldn't being to imagine listening to a word uttered by the shorter girl, let alone giving in to her request to fly across the country to a hostile room full of people she'd left behind.

A few moments of thought later, she realized that she couldn't blame the other girl; no- the only appropriate thing to do was thank her. It had taken an act of bravery to convince someone as stubborn and unforgiving as herself to get on a plane and do something like this. Rachel had made her venture out of the box she had sealed herself off in at her new school.

For the first time in her life, Quinn had been calm.

Now she watched as the door on the other side of the roof opened up to reveal Santana. The wind whipped her hair around her head, contrasting black swirls against the gray color of the sky. She seemed to be regretting the choice to wear only her large sweater and leggings, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as she approached Quinn.

"Brittany says to come down for dessert and coffee, everyone else has recovered from their food coma. And put out the damn square."

The shaggy-haired blonde rolled her eyes, tossing the cigarette to the gravel and grinding it out with her shoe.

"I'm not hungry for dessert," she lied, pointing to her stomach. "Tofurkey. It fills me right up."

"Bullshit with a side of bullshit, Q. Tofurkey is 60 percent nothing and you know there are maple-bacon donuts for you weirdoes that don't like pie but with eat fat piled on fat. Anyway, B doesn't want that kind of crap in the apartment. She thinks I'm going to turn the freshman 15 into the freshman 57. What can I say? Food is good."

With an affirmative grunt of resignation, Quinn pulled herself up and allowed Santana to link their arms and lead her back to the crowd of people.

"So, what's all this I'm hearing from Babs about this girl Quinn; journalist and hipster extraordinaire?"

….

2nd Author's Note: Honestly who knows when this will be updated again. Not I.