Chapter One: The decision

As Quinn Fabray drew her car to a stop outside the dilapidated brick apartment building she took a deep, shaking breath and told herself that she had one last chance to chicken out, turn her car around and hightail it back to Lima for summer vacation. Indeed, she'd almost done exactly that a half dozen times on the journey from New Haven to New York already, and in the three weeks since Rachel had broached the idea during their scheduled weekly Skype session, Quinn had changed her mind more times than she could count.

She'd been lying on her stomach on her bed with her laptop propped up on her psychology textbook, listening to Rachel enthuse about her upcoming rehearsals for her Broadway debut in the fall, and feeling more and more despondent about her own (lack of) summer plans. She may have been estranged from her father but, thanks to her Mom's hot-shot divorce lawyer, he was still footing the considerable bill for her ivy-league education. Unfortunately, that didn't include him forking out the cash for her to stay in New Haven for the summer and, since she had no immediate job prospects, she was doomed to a lonely two months in Lima, whilst all her friends got on with their exciting plans elsewhere. Only Finn and Puck would be in Lima along with her and Quinn wasn't especially enamoured with the idea of hanging out with either one of them.

Eventually, Rachel realized that Quinn had stopped "hmmming" and"uh-huhing" during the relevant intervals and, with only slight petulance over Quinn's apparent lack of interest in her burgeoning career, Rachel had asked her what was wrong. When Quinn confessed that she felt like a Lima loser, heading back home for the summer with no plans and no money, the solution was obvious to the brunette.

"Come and stay with us!" she had squealed excitedly, causing Quinn to wince as the shrill delight of Rachel's voice caused a feedback whine in her speaker. "We've got the room and I know you'll find a summer job, I can help you – there might be something you could do at the theater…" She grinned and bounced up and down like an animated six year old and began a long monologue detailing all the fun they would have, until Quinn began to suspect that she wasn't going to get a say in this at all. After ten minutes of Rachel trying to sell her on the virtues of a summer in the city, Quinn was beginning to agree that it just might be the answer to her problem. She'd tuned out of the brunette's monologue a little when Rachel began to list all the fantastic places that she, Rachel Berry, now a bona-fide, true New Yorker after ten months in the city, just had to take Quinn, but in truth, she had been starting to feel quite excited about the prospect, and Rachel's infectious enthusiasm was rubbing off on her, when…

"Even if you don't get a job right away, Santana freeloads on us half the time so what's one more?" Rachel had commented, and Quinn came back down to earth with a bump.

Santana. One word that brought up a maelstrom of feelings and memories that made Quinn's heart beat faster, her palms clammy, and her stomach twist uncomfortably. How could she have forgotten that Santana would be there too? She'd let herself get carried away with the proposal, and now that Rachel had got the idea fixed into her head, she'd be near-impossible to dissuade. If she said no, Rachel would want to know why, and she was already suspicious about the fact that Quinn and Santana had been so close at the wedding and had barely spoken since. Quinn swore that the girl was part blood-hound from the way she'd harangued her about her sudden coolness towards Santana, and from the brief, somewhat forced conversations she had shared with her former best-frenemy during the past few months, she knew that Santana was receiving the same treatment.

In the end she'd promised to think about it, and after two weeks of spending an inordinate amount of the time she should have been devoting to studying for finals racking her brains to come up with a good reason to turn down the offer, she'd finally relented, with the proviso that Rachel clear it with Santana and Kurt. Rachel had reported back the following day that the Berry-Hummel-Lopez household was collectively thrilled with the idea of a new roommate and the matter was settled.

The decision being made had done little to lessen Quinn's anxiety though, and she'd struggled through several sleepless nights which led to her roommate yelling at her at four a.m. and stomping off to find a quiet spot on one of their neighbor's floors. The pinnacle of Quinn's panic had hit her like a tidal wave in the middle of her American Government final, she'd finished the ridiculously easy paper in less than an hour and was left with nothing to do but stare at the hands on the clock move torturously slowly and torment herself with self-doubt.

She'd vacillated between acceptance – Santana had said she was okay with the visit after all, and pure, unadulterated terror – what if Rachel took one look at her face when she saw the Latina and realised the terrible truth? Quinn's heart was pounding and the blood rushing in her ears was so loud it drowned out the sound of her classmates furiously scribbling answers into the examination booklets. She'd clasped her shaking fingers together and willed herself not to have a panic attack. Maybe she could tell Rachel she was sick, or say that she'd gotten into an accident? Maybe she should really get into an accident – she could live with a broken arm or leg for the summer, couldn't she?

In the end, of course, she'd done none of those things. She'd made it through the exam, returned to her dorm room and packed up the rest of her belongings into her car, then with one last stern word with herself about pulling herself together, she'd turned the ignition key and gotten underway.

And now hear she was, checking her hair and make up in the rear-view mirror and trying to convince herself that she was just trying to make herself look presentable for her new roommates.

Swallowing hard, she picked up her cell phone and typed with shaky fingers: I'm outside. She hovered over the send button for a few moments before plucking up the courage to once and for all commit herself to the inevitable.

Moments later, as she stood on the sidewalk and fought valiantly to keep her knees from trembling, the door to the apartment block flew open and hurricane Rachel barrelled into her full force, Quinn's hip jarring painfully against her car door. Things sure had changed since the days when the only interactions she had with Rachel Berry involved slushie facials or distasteful glares.

"Hey, Rach," Quinn laughed, returning the hug and being forcibly reminded of an excitable chocolate Labrador puppy as Rachel literally jumped up and down with delight.

When Rachel finally let her go, Quinn smoothed her pale yellow sundress and tucked a stray strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. She allowed Rachel to take her by the hand and pull her towards the apartment, fumbling with her keys to remote-lock her car, as Rachel promised breathlessly to help her bring in her stuff later.

Once in the elevator, Rachel's mood abruptly changed and she pouted guiltily at Quinn through long, dark lashes.

"I have a confession to make," she said, talking slowly and calmly, as though Quinn were a particularly skittish wild animal. "I may have told a teeny-tiny lie."

Quinn eyed her warily but remained silent. Rachel seemed to take this as a good sign and her shoulders relaxed a little.

"I may have embellished slightly during our last conversation," Rachel admitted.

"Embellished how?" Quinn felt a tingle of anxiety and surreptitiously wiped her damp hands on the skirt of her dress.

"Um, I kind of… well I… I mean… I didn't tell Santana you were coming." The last part of Rachel's statement came out in a rush. "Don't be mad at me," she continued, without giving Quinn an opportunity to do more than glare at her murderously, "but Kurt and I talked it over and we agreed that whatever silly fight you two had, you just need to thrash it out and get over it, because frankly, Santana's been even more unbearable than ever recently, Kurt and I are worried about the both of you and I can't afford to get worry lines now that I'm a working actress." She offered Quinn a contrite smile that Quinn didn't quite believe.

A myriad of thoughts ran through Quinn's mind in a jumble – how to kill Rachel and make it look like an accident, how not to throw up right there in the elevator, what to say to Santana, what not to say to Santana, what Santana might say to her, what if she just got out of the elevator, got back in her car and didn't stop driving until she got to Mexico…?

"Quinn?" Rachel was watching her warily and Quinn realised that the expression on her face must have been what her friends jokingly referred to as scary-Quinn. She slumped against the back wall of the elevator and resigned herself to her fate.

"It's okay, Rachel," she managed to say, consciously telling herself to relax her hands which she'd balled into fists at her sides.

Rachel instantly lightened up and flashed her mega-watt smile again, leaving Quinn with the distinct impression she'd just been played.

The elevator dinged and it took every ounce of Quinn's willpower to force her feet to move and follow a skipping Rachel along the corridor to the loft.

By the time she stepped through the door, Rachel was already dancing around the furniture, calling out to Kurt disappearing in the direction of the closed drapes that separated off one of the sleeping areas.

"Kurt, Santana! Look who's come to stay!" Rachel called out merrily, spinning in a circle. Kurt stepped out of the bathroom behind her and beamed at Quinn, bounding across the room to give her a hug. It may have been Quinn's imagination but he seemed to squeeze her a little longer than necessary and she was sure she felt a reassuring little pat on her shoulder. She often wondered if Kurt might be somewhat more intuitive than people gave him credit for. Anyway, she was grateful for the support.

"Blaine will be here for a visit next week after school gets out," Kurt told her, his blue eyes sparkling. "We're going to have a full house."

Quinn smiled warmly. She liked Blaine, although she'd never been especially close to him in high school. She opened her mouth to respond to Kurt but stopped in her tracks as an angry screech came from the curtained-off area at the far end of the loft.

"What the hell, Berry? Why are you jumping around like a demented chipmunk? I thought I made it quite clear after the last time that Santana does not play well with others if I do not get my beauty sleep!"

Rachel came skittering out from behind the curtain so quickly that Quinn thought she was being chased. This proved to be true moments later when a dishevelled and distinctly unimpressed Santana came barrelling out full force, eyes flashing venomously.

She skidded to a halt when she saw the blonde standing in the middle of her apartment. Quinn sub-consciously wrapped her arms around her middle and forced a nervous smile.

"Hi Santana," she said tentatively.

"Quinn's here for the summer," Rachel supplied helpfully, from her position in the dining area, where she was hiding behind Kurt. Despite her nerves, the notion of anyone attempting to use Kurt Hummel as a human shield struck Quinn as highly amusing and she bit her lower lip as she tried unsuccessfully to suppress a giggle.

When Quinn's hazel eyes fixed on Santana again, the dark-haired girl was staring back at her with an inscrutable expression in her dark eyes. There was a highly-charged moment of silence, where Quinn felt sure that the others must be able to hear her heart pounding traitorously in her chest.

Then Santana shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes casting from Quinn's face all the way down to her freshly pedicured toes, a tiny smile playing in the corner of her mouth. "Sure, hi, Q." Then she turned her gaze to Kurt and Rachel. "It's fine with me, but one of you gets to share with her, I'm not giving up my bed." And with that, Santana spun around, mahogany hair flying out in a cloud around her head, and disappeared, back in the direction of her bed.

Quinn still felt like her knees were going to give way, but the pounding in her chest slowed to a bearable speed. She swallowed hard and tried her best to look disaffected but two pairs of eyes were fixed on her curiously.

"Um, I n-need to use the b-bathroom," she stammered, retreating quickly and locking the door securely behind her. Once inside, she ran her hands through her hair and studied herself in the mirror. Her pupils were dilated and her cheeks flushed. Her mind was spinning but one thought kept pushing to the forefront – Santana had smiled at her, Santana had said it was fine for her to stay.

Suddenly, all the panicking and freaking out Quinn had been doing over the last few weeks seemed ridiculous to her. She smiled to herself as she thought about the glint she'd seen in Santana's dark eyes as they'd swept over Quinn's figure. Maybe things had been awkward since them since that night but that didn't mean they had to stay that way. And maybe Quinn didn't know exactly where things were headed with Santana but she did know one thing for sure – Santana had been checking her out… and Quinn had liked it.