To say that Rachel was surprised to wake up alone would be an understatement. Especially since she could specifically recall falling asleep next to Quinn. However, her head felt like it was splitting in half and everything was entirely too bright, so for a moment she almost believed that her fact recall could be relatively in question.

And then she saw it. A star shaped post-it note, stolen from her desk and stuck onto her alarm clock.

Good morning, Rachel Berry, it read in perfect cursive that Rachel would bet her career always received Exemplary ratings on her elementary school conduct reports.

Being part of something special and makes you special. I'm trying to catch up.

Quinn

Rachel smiled in spite of herself. She could read between the lines—a little, at least. Quinn said she was special.

Even after everything, Quinn Fabray saying something like that to Rachel Berry made Rachel feel, for lack of a better description, warm and fuzzy.

Remind me never again to drink. Hangovers are not worth the temporary courage/insanity.

Quinn was sprawled out on the floor watching the blades of the ceiling fan in her room rotate. Judy had a very low tolerance for cold, and with Russell gone she maintained a temperature of seventy-seven degrees within the home from Thanksgiving to Valentine's Day. Therefore, Quinn spent a lot of Winter sprawled out on the cool hardwood of her bedroom in as little clothing as possible. Thankfully, this year, she hadn't spent much time at home. She and the guys had worked there asses off for the last couple of weeks recording and mixing their upcoming EP. Plus, if they weren't in the studio, they were planning the post-holiday tour. Quinn basically spent every spare moment either working out venue logistics with Puck or going over t-shirt designs and merch plans with Sam. And Quinn liked it that way. Being busy meant staying focused.

However, the guys didn't work that way. They needed to have days off to sleep or play Call of Duty or…whatever else they did. That's why Quinn was at home, lying on her bedroom floor, listening to Relient K, desperately trying to make her brain turn off.

She couldn't decide if the Black Friday party had been a mistake or not. She got Rachel's text a couple hours after she had made it back home. Which of course meant that Rachel had read the note Quinn had left. But Rachel didn't act any differently. Over the course of the following four weeks, Rachel kept texting her like she always did. Puck even asked her if anything happened, which meant that Rachel wasn't talking to him about it. It was like she made a point not to act any differently, and Quinn couldn't tell if that was a good or bad.

On another level, Quinn didn't know what she was expecting—or even what she wanted—to happen in a post-Rachel-got-drunk-and-dragged-Quinn-up-to-her-room-and-then-they-fell-asleep world. But nothing happened. Everything continued on between them like it had been. Rachel still messaged her at least once every day. Quinn still threw herself into the band instead of responding. Life was still totally (relatively) normal.

Except it wasn't.

Because Quinn now knew what it felt like for Rachel to fall asleep pressed against her. Because Quinn now knew that Rachel was a blanket hog, just like she always thought she would be. Because Quinn now knew what it felt like to wake up next to Rachel in the morning.

And Rachel had to now know that Quinn—

Felt…something.

Right? She had to know that now.

But Quinn couldn't be sure, and that's what was driving her crazy.

A tentative knock on her bedroom door broke Quinn out of her thoughts. "I'm not hungry, Mom," she yelled in the general direction of her door, not bothering to get up.

It was Sam's voice that replied "I'll be sure to tell her that," from the other side of the door. Quinn jumped up and quickly opened the door.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" Quinn asked, leading him into her room.

"Can't a guy come over just to hang out?" he deflected as he forced a laugh and sat down beside her on the bed.

"Sure, if that's why you're here," Quinn replied trying to make eye contact with him, "but something tells me that's not the case."

They sat in silence for a moment, Sam still not meeting Quinn's gaze. After a moment or so, Sam said, "I didn't know you liked Relient K."

"Yeah, well, youth group habits die hard, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess," Sam murmured.

After it became clear that Sam wasn't going to talk without some serious prompting, Quinn took both of his hands in hers and turned to face him directly. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"I'm moving to Tennessee," he replied evenly, finally making eye contact with Quinn. There were tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"What?" Quinn gasped, dropping his hands. "Why?"

"I know… I know, but my family," He sobbed in earnest. "They sacrificed so much so I could finish out high school here, but they can't do it anymore, Quinn." He paused, pressing his palms to his eyes hard as he took a deep breath. "It's a miracle that my dad could even get this job in Tennessee since he had already passed it up last summer."

Quinn's throat tightened. Of course this was all too good to be true. Of course this would happen. She should have seen it coming really. Quinn should have expected something to go wrong. She would have to regroup again, rebuild again. Of course, one of them was going to let her down. Shock coursed through her body so fast that she felt like she was outside of herself looking at the both of them from above.

But this really was her last chance. She honestly didn't have a backup plan this time. God, she was counting on this finally working out. And, damn if didn't hurt like Hell.

But none of it was Sam's fault.

She regained her poise—she was Quinn Fabray—and gently reached an arm around the boy's shoulder, pressing him to her. "Sam, it's okay. I get it. I know things have been hard with your family. This is a good thing," she soothed.

"No, it's not. Not right now. I mean, we have the band and the tour, and oh jeez the EP—"

"Sam, listen: It's okay. You have to do what you have to do. I understand. Puck and Finn will understand too."

"Quinn, it's not okay!" Sam exclaimed abruptly standing. "Stop putting up a front and be real with me for once!"

"I don't under—"

"I don't want to move, Quinn. But I have to. I have to because I have nowhere else to go. And once I go, that's it. I won't be able to go on tour. I won't be able to be in this band. I won't be able to help you. And that is not okay," Sam continued in a strained voice, "I wanted this, too, Quinn. Maybe not as much you, but I still wanted it. And you don't care."

"I don't care?" Quinn asked incredulously. "What do you want me to do, Sam?" She retaliated, standing up so they were on even footing. "Get mad at you? Beg for you not to leave? Tell you to tell your family to fuck off?"

"Well, no, but you should…be something!" Sam whined, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Fine, Sam. Yeah, I'm mad. I am so angry because this had to happen now, right when we were finally going to get out of here. I am pissed that you are running out on me—"

"I'm not running out you!"

"—just like everyone else. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what you were expecting? Well, excuse me for being understanding. Excuse me for trying to not to be the selfish bitch everyone thinks I am! Is this something enough for you?" Quinn spat with more venom then Sam had experienced in over a year.

The words rang in her own ears over and over. Is this feeling enough for you?

Don't they know she feels everything? Every little thing.

"Do you really think I would expect you to abandon your family, Sam?" Quinn sobbed. "They need you."

"But that's what sucks, Quinn!" Sam yelled. "You are my family, and you need me too. And I don't know what to do!"

Both of them had tears streaming down their faces when Judy burst into Quinn's room. "I don't know what this is about, but I will not tolerate it in my home any longer. Young man, I think you should leave."

Sam roughly wiped his face with his forearm. "I'm sorry." He sniffled and sighed, trying to collect himself. "You're right, I should go. I'm sorry for causing a scene, Ms. Fabray."

Quinn was frozen where she stood as Judy cleared the way, so Sam could leave. Quinn was missing something, she could feel it. She was supposed to stop this. She was supposed to fix this. Just before he stepped out of the room, he turned to look back at Quinn. "I wish I had an answer."

Her mother was scowling at him—or trying to, anyway—and Sam was walking out of her room. He was leaving. Leaving the band. Leaving her.

He was leaving.

"Stay here."

It was a desperate plea—plain and simple. That's probably why Judy ushered Sam into the guest room before she could properly escort him off of the premise, quietly asking him to wait while she conferred with her daughter, instead of just pushing the boy down the stairs. Or maybe Judy just wasn't as confrontational as she thought she was.

When she returned, Quinn was sitting on her bed with the stuffed toy lamb she's had since infancy wrapped in her arms, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Judy approached quietly and sat down beside her, gingerly moving a stray hair behind her daughter's ear and effectively breaking her out of her trance.

"He can't leave, Mom."

It was nearly incoherent to Judy. Here was her daughter's voice—so soft, so sure—addressing her directly for the first time in years, and who was Judy to deny her? But she couldn't lose herself to novelty.

"Quinn, I don't know what you two were arguing about, and I know Sam is generally a very nice boy, but I think you two need some time apart to work out your disagreement."

"It wasn't a disagreement," Quinn said, absently picking at the worn cotton of her lamb.

"Then what was that loud conversation about?"

Quinn smiled even though she didn't want to, and that was another victory Judy didn't think she would see again.

"His family is moving to Tennessee, and he doesn't want to because the band is about do release are first EP, but he really doesn't have anything he can do about it."

"And?" Judy prodded gently.

"And he is mad that I'm not as…outwardly…mad about it as he is."

Quinn sniffled, and it was adorable. It reminded Judy of all the times she had to calm Lucy down after waking up with nightmares featuring the unsavory characters from whichever book she read or movie she watched that day.

"You both seemed pretty upset by the time I came in."

Quinn nodded.

"But I fail to see how Sam staying here would fix anything. In fact, I don't think it's a good idea. The boy would be better off with his family."

That finally caused her daughter to look at her.

"Mom, no. He has to stay here. With me. He's better off with me."

"Quinn, I can't have some boy I barely know living under my roof." What would people think? would have been her follow up several years ago, but time changes everything. Even Judy Fabray. "It makes me feel uncomfortable, not to mention that it would be inappropriate for me, as a parent, to allow a young boy that you have history with to live with us unchecked."

Quinn's brow furrowed as she asked, "You think that I want this because I have feelings for him? You think I don't want to lose him because…I want to date him?"

Her expression was incredulous, and Judyknew instantaneously that she had said the exact wrong thing. Even she knew it was a long shot that Quinn would want Sam here for romantic reasons. Quinn wasn't very discreet after all, but she had to save face.

"Well, what do you expect me to think? It seems like you spend every moment with him, and now you are asking me to let him live here."

Quinn sighed and was quiet for a moment before saying in slow and measured syllables, "I do not have feelings for Sam. Any time we spend together, we are either with Noah and Finn or Stacy and Stevie. I want him to live here because if he leaves it will be bad for the band, and we have two unused bedrooms." She waited a beat before adding, "Again, I do not have feelings for Sam."

"I still feel uncomfortable. After all, what will his parents think?" Judy said.

"Honestly, they will probably be grateful with one less mouth to feed, and it would take a lot of stress off of Sam. I get that you are uncomfortable, objectively. But," Quinn met Judy's gaze, "I'm asking you to trust me."

She wanted to be resolute. She wanted to put her foot down because letting a teenage boy live with her daughter who had already gone though a teen pregnancy and apparently some sort of mental break down while Judy wasn't looking just screamed bad idea.

But in the back of her head, this felt like life or death to Judy.

She looked her daughter over: Her short, choppy, pink hair, and her fierce hazel eyes, clear and unafraid. Underneath the plastic surgery Russell paid for, Lucy's eyes were staring back at her for the first time in years.

"This is important, isn't it?"

Quinn smiled genuinely. "It is."

Judy took a deep breath and nodded. This is what her daughter needed—and maybe, it's what Sam needed—so, this time, she was going to provide for her.

"I'll need to talk with his parents first, obviously, but—"

Quinn leaned into Judy and wrapped her arms tightly around her.

"Thank you, Mom."

Even with the money and status and the focus on maintaining a good reputation and instilling her children with "motivation" (Russell called it that, but she knows now it was just plain abuse), in this moment, with her daughter's arms wrapped around her in relief, she knows that this is where her focus should have been—in being present with her children.

Oh, Lucy, she thought, what else have I missed?

Quinn was anxious. Tony, Larsen and Reid were coming to the studio to listen to their newly finished EP, Friends Who Can Relate for the first time. Quinn and Puck had been good about sending them demos and clips throughout the recording process, but this is the first time their management would actually be listening to the EP as a whole.

If it went well, the master recordings would be sent off to be mass produced onto CDs and released as digital copies on their website to sell. They would then go on post-holiday mini-tour several weeks later.

If it did not go well, however, they would spend the weeks before the post-holiday mini-tour reworking the EP, and they would only have vouchers for the digital copies to sell during the tour, rather than physical CDs, which would probably translate into more work and less money.

They were due to arrive at any minute. In fact, they were running a little late, which was not doing Quinn's nerves any good.

On top of that, after they met with Tony, Larsen and Reid, Quinn was driving over to Sam's to help him move out. The day after Sam came over, and Quinn convinced Judy to let him move in, Judy (to Quinn's very pleasant surprise) took it upon herself to call Mr. and Mrs. Evans to invite them over to dinner to sell the idea of Sam living with them.

According to Sam (because Quinn didn't feel comfortable asking Judy), Judy's approach was very logical: Quinn and Judy were very comfortable with Sam and his family because they went to the same church. Sam's family was in trouble, so it was practically Quinn and Judy's Christian duty to help the best way that they could. Because Sam had ties and prospects in Lima, offering him a place in their home was the best and most cost-effective solution for both parties. Sam's mother cried, but still agreed that Judy was right.

And so it was decided that Sam would live with Quinn and Judy. He would sleep in the guest bedroom at the other end of the house because that made Judy feel the most comfortable about the whole thing, even though Quinn, Sam and Judy all knew that there was really nothing to be uncomfortable about.

It was fairly straightforward, and it was what Quinn and Sam both wanted, but Quinn still had one reservation: She didn't know how to tell Puck. And Finn, but mostly Puck.

It's not like he would really have anything to be upset about. She hadn't stayed with him for a few months—not since she could crash at the studio if she really didn't want to go home. And they weren't anything. There wasn't anything between them besides what has always been between them. And there wasn't anything between her and Sam for Puck to even get legitimately mad about.

Still, she just had this feeling in her gut that he would.

But she couldn't worry about that until she took care of business with management. Tony, Larsen and Reid would be arriving at the studio any minute, and she couldn't be distracted with what might piss off Puck. (Really, what else is new?)

"So…it's 2:40. Where are they?"

"Shut up, Finn."

They arrived at twenty minutes later. Tony gave some sort of half-fleshed out apology, but Reid—or who Sam could only assume was Reid since they had already met the L and D of LDR Records—headed straight for the recording studio. He didn't even introduce himself before blasting the first track of their EP through the speakers.

He was the shortest of the three by at least a full head. He kind of looked like Blaine if Blaine wore normal clothes and didn't use a jar of Vaseline on his hair every day. Sam briefly wondered if that meant Tony and Reid were also dating, but then he remembered that Tony and Reid were both straight, so that was crazy.

Then he remembered that he really had no idea if Tony and Reid were straight. I mean, he thought Quinn was straight, and that was totally wrong.

The second track started to play and Reid started to bob his head with the beat. Sam looked at Finn, who shrugged. So then he looked to Puck, but Puck was too busy glaring and Tony who was ogling Quinn. Sam made a note to punch Tony when he got the chance. He was definitely straight, but he was also definitely a douche.

Sam finally met Quinn's gaze, and she smirked. Good sign. Things were going well. Larsen grinned at Reid when the next song started. Maybe Sam was wrong: maybe Reid and Larsen were dating.

They all stood in silence while the next two tracks played, Reid's smile growing with each passing minute. Sam thought they were finished and was bracing himself for…whatever happens after record label people listen to a band's music…when a guitar lick blasted through the speakers. He, Puck, Finn, Tony and Larsen's head whipped around to the computer that was playing the tracks, completely surprised. Only Quinn and Reid seemed calm.

Tony shook his head, "I don't remember this one."

"It's new," Quinn replied. "We didn't have time to send you a demo."

"It's…," Larsen started.

"Fantastic," Reid finished, "Single material."

Okay, Sam definitely shipped Reid and Larsen

"My thoughts exactly," Quinn directed to Reid with a smile.

Larsen, Tony and Reid had just pulled out of the driveway when Puck lifted Quinn up in a hug. "We did it, Q! We're gonna have a CD!"

Quinn shrieked in spite of herself. "Yeah, we are," she giggled back, bracing herself on his shoulders. "Now could you please put me down?"

He did, of course. Gently, and with a quiet, "Sorry, Baby Mamma", too.

"We should celebrate. Order pizza! I'll go get beer. My treat." He started looking around for his keys. Finn was on the phone with Carole, repeating "we did it, we really did it" over and over. Sam was all smiles, but he was also standing by the door. She really couldn't put this off any longer.

"Puck, I can't."

Puck shook his head quickly, like electric shock. "What do you mean you can't? Screw your diet, Q. We are going to have an EP." He moved to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm.

"I have to go with Sam. His parents are moving—"

"Moving? To where?!"

"Tennessee, but—"

"Tennessee?! But what about the band? Is he running out on us?" Puck shot a glare at Sam. "You son of a bitch—"

Sam moved from the door, defensive. "What the hell, man?"

"Noah, let me finish!" Quinn barked out. "And stop glaring at Sam. He's not running out on us."

"Fine," Puck spat, crossing his arms, and shooting Sam one last glare. "I'm sorry. You were saying?"

Once she was sure she had eye contact, Quinn steeled herself and pulled the trigger.

"Sam is moving in with me. His parents are moving to Tennessee, so in order to keep this going, he's moving in. And we told his parents we would get his stuff tonight." She watched the confusion and hurt play on Puck's face before he schooled his features into cold stare.

"Right. I get it."

"You do?" Quinn was wary.

"Sure. It's a hell of a lot easier to crawl into someone's bed if you live under the same roof. And it's not like Judy was going to let me move in."

"Bro, that's low," Sam exclaimed.

Quinn shook her head. "Noah, you know it's not like that."

"Sure it's not like that now, but it will be," Puck yelled. Then he fixed his eyes on Sam, "And I'm not your, bro."

"Nothing is going on between me and Sam," Quinn gritted out.

"Yes, and nothing is going on between me and you."

"Nothing is going on between us!"

"But it doesn't stop you from using us, does it?!" Puck bellowed. He had tears in his eyes. Quinn had never seen him cry before.

She took a tentative step forward, reaching for his hand.

"Puck…"

He ripped it away and frantically pushed past all of them.

"I'm sorry. This…was wrong. I need time. Call me next week."

Sam looked to Quinn while they heard Puck's truck start and pull away, but she couldn't find words.

Hours later, Sam found Quinn crossed-legged on her bed, furiously writing into a dog-eared composition book. He probably could have walked right in without her noticing, but he still knocked on the doorframe. "Writing in your diary?" he joked.

Quinn chuckled and he joined her on the bed. "Ah, yes. 'Dear Diary. Today one of the most handsome boys at McKinley moved in to my house. He will be staying in the far guest bedroom. My life is becoming an ABC Family show. What a day.'"

"You left out the part where you made Noah Puckerman cry," Sam retorted with his best attempt at faux-casualty.

"Perhaps that's something I don't want to record," Quinn replied, closing the notebook.

"Come on, Quinn. What was that all about?"

She sighed and half-heartedly glared and him. Sam could only offer a hopeful grin in return.

"You really want to know?"

"Yeah, of course," Sam said, leaning back on one arm, making himself comfortable for the long hall.

He watched as Quinn nodded, seeming to collect herself, planning exactly what she wanted to say and what she knew she needed to say. After a heavy pause, she began.

"As you know, things between me and Puck have always been…complicated." She stopped, like she waiting for a joke about her or something, but Sam had heard them all before. This was about Quinn.

"Yeah, I know," he said encouragingly. She grinned, and he gave her a warm smile, and added, "But this is different, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"You know Puck was the one to teach me to play, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, sometimes, after lessons or whatever they were, I would just…stay with him. I would stay over."

Now Sam was confused. "Like…sleep with him?"

Quinn shook her head. "No, but I would sleep in his bed with him. Sometimes when I really couldn't deal with going home. Sometimes when I didn't want to be alone."

"And he thinks you are going to start doing that with me instead?" Sam asked.

"Yes. And he doesn't like it because…," Quinn trailed off, dragging her fingers through her hair to compose herself. "In his own way, Puck has always tried to love me. He always wanted us to be…more than we were."

"But you don't feel that way for him."

"No," whispered with a sigh.

"But he's still important to you, which is like totally understandable. And also, I know you don't feel like that way about me."

Quinn met his eyes. "You do?"

"Yeah. I know you are in love with someone else, and so does Puck. It just hurts, I guess, for him to be reminded sometimes." Sam paused, then added, "Finn might not know though. That's kind of awkward."

Quinn looked down at her composition book, embarrassed and not sure of what to say.

"Look," Sam continued, "That whole situation is kind of really messed up. But this band we have, these songs you write…they make us special. And there's no way me or Puck or Finn are going to let it go now."

She looked up, unsure. "You really think so?"

"One hundred percent," Sam assured with a smile.

Quinn smiled back and moved to slip her composition book under her mattress.

"Wait, is that actually your diary?"

"What? No," Quinn answered, pulling it back out, "It's my lyric book."

Sam moved to get a closer look. "Seriously? May I see it?"

"You really want to see what I've written?" Confusion and hesitance colored her voice.

"Of course I do. I want to see where the magic happens!"

Quinn studied his face, as if she was trying to determine if he was being true. Apparently, he passed because a moment later, Quinn scooted closer to him, opening the book, and holding so Sam could clearly see the words I'd take it back to have the chance to see her laugh, to see her dance in Quinn's hurried-yet-perfect cursive. A reminder that Quinn was always dealing with more than he could ever understand.

"One more thing," Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"If you ever do…need to…not be alone at night. I'm okay with it." Quinn nodded, but said nothing. "It's just that you have to explain it to your mom if she walks in on us," he added.

Quinn laughed—despite Sam being completely serious—and said, "Deal."

Hey guys, I know it's been basically forever, but I am still trying to get this story out. Also, you can actually download the Friends Who Can Relate EP at the LIA tumblr, URL: Lost-i-am.