Author's note: One-shots seem appealing and I may only do very short stories if I do any. Hope this isn't horrible or very depressing. But there will be a happy ending hinted at cause everyone knows life doesn't always have happy endings so that's why there's FICTION! Hopefully they're in character or what was in character a season ago (when I was still watching Glee). Listening to Metric's collect call helped me finish this in case anyone wants to check it out. I don't like the title but I really couldn't think of anything better.

It was silent.

Save for the clatter of dishes, registers, chatter, and everyone else around them.

She had turned off her phone.

"Everyone is blowing up my phone! I'm turning it off." She had told Santana over their weekly coffee meet up. The brunette rolled her eyes at her friend and took a long sip of her triple shot venti latte to draw in energy to deal with her second favorite blonde. Course she wasn't about to tell her that, it would go to the woman's head. It was unspoken and everyone knew Britt was her favorite.

"Listen. Never say blowing up my phone again. Ever. I'm gonna do you a favor and remind you that your instinct to run and bury yourself in your work is just pathetic and predictable." She said with a slight shrug but leaned back in the metal chair. Hazel eyes glared back at her but she only tapped twice on the lid and rested her elbow on the table.

"I'm not.."

"Yes, you are," she cut off. "People annoying you too much Quinn? Cause they want to see you happy? Cause they think you should try again and you think it takes too much effort? Tough break." She said the last part with an impressive amount of sarcasm.

"Kurt texted me. Even Artie texted me." The blonde pushed.

"Lady Hummel and wheels CARE." Santana expressed as she widened her eyes as if to say open your eyes blondie. If Quinn were to be honest she could practically hear Santana say it anyway. "Before you ask me why-why would people you haven't talked to in a few years give two shits about you consider that they both like, probably love Rachel. Ergo if Rachel is unhappy they're going to reach out and try to shake you the best they can."

Quinn took a deep breath. Santana hid a smirk behind her raised cup. Check. She thought. Not that she ever enjoyed playing chess when real people were more fun to manipulate. She chose to use the word manipulate because it seemed a bit more cold and calculating. And she wasn't going to flat out admit she was trying to get Rachel and Quinn back together. Quinn and Rachel. They worked. They sometimes simply needed reminders when things were harder than usual.

"So you don't care if she's unhappy? Cold Fabray. Some friend you are. Then again it's your M.O. to cut all ties and call it a day." She said and tipped her cup towards Quinn.

"I care." Quinn said stiffly as she sat up straighter.

"As a friend did you even listen to her new album? Give her any feedback?"

"No, she has critics and fans to do that." Quinn replied as she looked at the dark wood table. She always liked dark wood. And she really liked Rachel's dark wood floors the Broadway star had put into her loft with all her other renovation projects.

"They don't matter as much as her friends do. Her family. People she's willingly close to." The brunette said with a smug look as though daring Quinn to argue with her.

"Her family wouldn't have liked me," the blonde said slightly above a whisper.

"Stop with the self-deprecating shit. You don't know that and you didn't give them a chance. And before you say it you're not the girl you were back in high school." She said strongly only to become softer at the end.

"But I.."

"Before I forget Britt wanted to give you this," Santana said as she smoothly twisted around for her purse and took out a cd. She suppressed a sigh. They only had an hour and she couldn't listen to Quinn's twisted logic and crazy reasons why Quinn shouldn't try. It was clear as filtered water that Rachel was dramatic and needed reassurance. Maybe Quinn had gotten tired of it being unbalanced but at the end of the day they worked. Rachel actually liked when Quinn was bitchy and challenged her while Rachel was patient in ways and also pushed Quinn to not have her head in books every minute she was awake. Even though it was the blonde's job and she loved it, being an editor was only one role and Rachel didn't tolerate Quinn limiting herself even though it earned her a great income and perks. They balanced one another! And sure they gave Santana a little hope that not everyone was selfish and awful cause Rachel and Quinn could be really giving to one another. Like the song she was trying to nonchalantly give Quinn. Rachel was raw and gave her all in music. Its why people loved her. It wasn't natural. When Santana was drunk she had told Rachel it was otherworldly. The small diva had blinked slowly in surprise. Quinn had lightly pinched her and whispered with a smirk, "this is real life, you're not dreaming babe."

Quinn looked curiously at the unmarked disc. All it said on the plastic case was demo.

"I'm willing to bet good money that you haven't listened to it," She said with a raised eyebrow because good money to Santana meant thousands and thousands because it was pennies to both of them. Workaholics get shit done Santana had yelled once. Really- neither women were going to back down from a challenge and they both knew it.

As if predicting the near future Santana watched as Quinn picked up the seemingly innocuous cd and slipped in into her own overly priced handbag.

I give it three to five days Santana wagered with herself as they got up and parted after briefly discussing lighter topics.

Quinn set her bag on the counter after she walked into her apartment. She sorted through the mail to pretend as though she didn't want to flip open the case and put in the cd. Part of her wished she could have gotten a vinyl copy of whatever was on the disk because Rachel's voice would be even more stunning with better recordings. It would be that much more rich, that much more torture she reminded herself. And so she avoided the cd for a few hours.

They hadn't talked for four weeks. No texting, no emails, nothing that prompted them to have a real conversation. There was work to distract her; options and arrays of manuscripts for her to edit and give the seal of approval or swiftly cut down a person's dreams of being a writer. She enjoyed the power, but a large part of her knew she chose this profession because Lucy loved it. And Lucy was still very much a part of her. She had spent years denying her but Quinn had evolved into a person that was anti-social but appealing, nerdy but intimidating, and as Rachel had said once-a beautiful enigma.

That was after they had been dating for about three weeks. After late night dinners. After walking in the rain. After serendipitously running into each other in a café during a downpour and Rachel's umbrella had been killed by the wind. Quinn grew to then love rainy days and wind that sounded like chances and potential.

Now it was almost 10:30 at night on a weekday and she had to be at the office early but she was on her second glass of wine. She set a restriction years ago…what seemed like a lifetime ago…her senior year of high school that she wouldn't drink more than 2 glasses of wine in one sitting because she wouldn't be like her father. It was a strategic decision and she knew it because with college would come parties and offers to mingle and connect. Not that she was all that great at connecting with people, she knew, but stranger things had happened in her life.

She was pouring a third glass as she listened to the first few notes to the cd. A producer she assumed had spoken before and professionally said track 1 before the piano started. Quinn knew it was going to be a ballad. That was Rachel's forte. Quinn sat down at her breakfast bar, arms on the cool marble and closed her eyes.

There's this sad regret
it's unfortunate, yes

I thought you were unhappy you said
you found me uncaring-you stressed

Why are you afraid of being hopeful?
We're something powerful

When being with you felt where I should belong
and all I can do is write you this song

But I think I always knew love wasn't enough
and there isn't a formula for not missing someone

You felt like everyplace I wanted to travel
and everything I've wanted to do

It'll be empty soon
its why I refrained from falling into it

I know its clichéd and you're dismayed
Even though its clearly everything

Holding you I sometimes thought
I don't know where I'll be in the world

No, I don't know where I'll be in this world
this is what I want

By the third listen on repeat she didn't realize she was crying. She hadn't realized she had picked up the remote to press the playback button. Her wine was abandoned and she felt heavier. It didn't sound like Rachel's usual songs. It didn't have a chorus. It was a story. It was what they had said to one another when they had their off moments and hide behind romantic wording. Quinn robotically and with shock wiped the evidence of tears away. Taking in a shaky breath she realized it was slightly jazzy, raw in a way Rachel had let her voice break twice and gave into it all. It was such a rarity to come across a song like this that Quinn was still letting it seep into her. If she could have linked it to something else she would have said it was like the first time listening to Adele.

On the fourth listen her thoughts were battling in her head. The wine was taking affect and Rachel's words…her words as well that they had said to one another were being sung. Expressed in such a way that some of her senses were shutting down and others were being heightened to take it all in.

She loved me. No, she loves me. Correct tense? Verdict is still ooooout.

But there wasn't a future with her. We should have progressed..it was the same thing after 2 years...she should have met my family by then. I should have formally met her's...and it was unbalanced. Why didn't I stay at her place as much as when she was here? The future was very..what's that expression?...up in the air! I can hardly say there's a future with her.

Yes, there is. I love her. I'm not that stupid. Anyone with half a brain loves her.

But they don't really know her. Not on an intimate level.

I didn't mean in the biblical sense…

I meant in the way I know she pauses before going out in public, checks the mirror, always moves some hair out of her eyes, squares her shoulders and gets ready to take on the city. In the way that we know she'd marry New York City if it were a person. In the way she's so snarky and tweeted I pray John Travolta doesn't introduce me if I perform at the Oscars. Wink face at the end.

You're still crying.

What the hell. Fucking tears sneaking up on me. Bastards. Sure do curse a lot. Stupid wine. Just cause you're red and good for my heart…bad wine. Bad. So I'm a little beyond tipsy.

Semantics.

Shut up Lucy.

You've been talking to yourself the whole time. In YOUR head. At least you're not on the subway ranting with a bunch of bags. We have some decency. You think I don't miss Rachel? Really Quinn. Really.

I know, I know. She did this leg thing…loved it. I want to lay down with her right now. She'd take care of us. Put her hand under our jaw and throw her leg over us. God. It never felt like I was being smothered. And it was the cutest, sexiest thing, that simple action that she was..like…claiming me by putting her body over me. I loved her weight. We'd wait and smirk when she did it, just get comfy on us. It felt so grounding…

Yeah…simple things like that were great. Now we're celibate. We're going to be great spinsters huh? That's the plan right? We're giving up. We're going to dive into work and give to charities to feel better about ourselves. Maybe rescue a dog. A grey hound! We'd be less lonely.

She never made us feel lonely…

I know, she felt..she made us feel..and that scared us didn't it?

Cause she felt like home. Cause she freaking felt like home! I didn't know what to do with that. I wasn't prepared for…that. But there wasn't any progression for 2 years...it was the same routine...and I wanted to marry her. I felt stupid for wanting to marry her. So we mutually broke up...another dumb move. She suggested we break up and rather than fight we jumped on the sinking boat. it was the opposite of what I wanted. But I didn't want to sit there and listen to her go on about what I had done wrong when it was already imbalanced. There wasn't one big reason why we weren't going to last. It was many small things.

So I got overwhelmed. Who wouldn't get overwhelmed by Rachel. There was a lot of emotions linked to her…emotions aren't trustworthy things. They're fickle little bastards. But she's gorgeous and smart and funny. Not in that order. She's so smart. She's goofy and witty, she's intense, she's beautiful, she's passionate, she's talented...

Oh my god her boobs.

Focus Quinn.

But you have to admit…

Yes, her everything. Moving on…

I don't want to move on. I tried.

Not what I meant. And people think you're smart. We're smart enough to fool them. Got that goin' for us.

…I want Rachel.

Great, took you long enough. What are you going to do about it now killer?

Pass out.

No! Quinn..Quinn..ugh, idiot.

When she woke up her head felt like it was bitch slapped and run over by a damn tank. Split it two was apropos. She knew that, but it seemed too obvious since she stayed up til 2 mentally battling herself and her two personalities. Not that she had actual multiple personalities. It just felt like it when logic and emotions threw punches at each other.

There was a banging at the door. Blindly reaching for her phone she pressed a few buttons based on feel and noticed it was 11 o'clock. Shit! Late for work. Quickly she sat up and felt like she had fallen from the top of the pyramid. At least she didn't break anything this time.

"Q, get out of bed. I called into your work early and told them you're aunt died cause you're predictable and everyone knew you were going to get trashed." Santana said from the hallway. Her voice was still clearly heard through the door.

"San, be nice, grumpy Quinn happens and we liked Dopey Quinn when she was with Rachel." Brittany said sweetly. "And we have a key…" she said softer.

"Yeah and Berry liked Bashful Quinn, but I like when I don't have to dig through my purse for the damn key," the brunette grumbled and raised her head when she heard the door open.

"S…B…I kind of want to kill you, but I kind of love you and killing would be messy so can you STOP talking so loudly and get inside?" Quinn said as she squinted her eyes at them. Slowly she turned to press her back against the door to allow them in.

"Lookin' your absolute best Blondie." Santana said with a snicker.

"Oh Quinn, you need to take a shower, pinch your cheeks, get some skinny jeans on, and ready to see the best diva we know." Brittany said with a knowing smile.

"What? Why skinny jeans?" The smaller blonde said with a frown.

"Rachel loves your ass." The dancer said with a shrug. Quinn stopped mid stride, turned back to Britt and raised her eyebrows.

"Don't be shocked Fabray. Everyone knows Rachel loves your ass. Didn't take two years of you two dating for people to see that. She loved it in high school. Never was the most subtle person. Now let's move!"

Knowing better than to argue and even more so since she didn't have the energy to Quinn went into her bathroom for a quick shower. Santana would make her magical hang over cure which was always questionable but apparently contained five common household ingredients and force her to drink it.

Everything felt robotic and slow paced as she talked with her close friends. She didn't believe in best friends, but they were the closest thing to family she had. By choice.

Somehow by choice or Santana's unnatural degree of stubbornness Quinn was standing in front of Rachel's apartment door. Quinn had tried to protest and say she would talk to Rachel on her own and based on her own terms. Santana only kept rolling her eyes, huffing and puffing to the point that three little pigs should have been scared with a few shoves thrown in.

"You're really going to escort me to Rachel's door?" She had asked exasperated.

"Better believe it. Knowing you-you'd bail and take the stairs. Move it book worm. You know she only has a couple hours til her next show. And you really need to argue with me a bit here, I'm bored. An un-combative Quinn is dull."

Naturally she was standing at Rachel's apartment, weighting the pros and cons to knocking. She knew it wasn't just knocking. It was trying again. And why the hell should she try when she was the one who was broken up with?

"Be the bigger person, she always liked romantic things Quinn," Brittany offered her advice in her soft tone that held an edge of pushing. Quinn stopped herself from turning around and asking Brittany to stay out of her head but she was too focused on the barricade. Why were there so many damn door metaphors in life anyway? When one door closes a window is opened…

She tilted her head.

Yeah, for you to jump out of…

Geez, be a little more bleak. How about..if the doors of perception were cleansed we'd see the world as it is-infinite.

A light smile formed. She could work with that.

"Hell Santana!" She said rubbing the side of her head that the brunette had just swatted. With narrowed eyes and body language that screamed my patience is thinner than Kurt's collection of flannel shirts. Which was to say nonexistent.

"Get out of your head and do something. Get your shit together!" She said in an annoyed whisper.

"Stop quoting Bridesmaids." Quinn replied quickly without missing a beat.

"It's a classic, get over it." She said with finality and stared Quinn down again.

The blonde turned back to the door and took a deep breath. She kept staring. For another..10..20..30 seconds.

"Just knock. Knock…do you think she knows how to knock? Did she forget how to knock?" Brittany whispered.

"Been watching Frozen again huh babe?" Santana knowingly asked with a content smirk.

Quinn shook her head slightly to clear her mind. She felt removed from herself as her hand lifted, as though her arm wasn't fully connected to her. Phantom limb syndrome…she had read about it once…

A few connections to the door and she brought her hand back to her side.

"Our work here is done," Santana said as she took her wife's hand and walked away. Quinn didn't need to watch them go. She knew they had love, that they both worked for it. It's why she was here. To work on it. With an unwavering focus she kept watching the door. Waiting.

Slowly the door opened.

Rachel looked up from her eye level that was at the blonde's upper chest to hazel eyes. Quinn took a steady breath in, as though breathing was something she had to remind herself to do. Brown eyes tried to hide their surprise but Rachel was always expressive.

They took each other in with hesitation.

If somebody's got soul you've got to make them move...keep me closer. Quinn could practically hear Emily Haines singing it, pleading for truth.

Words don't fail me now! Another deep breath in. For the sake of honesty!

Rachel deserved this much. She, herself deserved this much. They deserved better.

The world is infinite.

"I miss you."

That's it. It could have more details, but I wanted it to be a little barren and ambiguous. Thank you for reading.