She approached Quinn that day because she had to. For most people, Quinn's transformation from Cheerio Captain to Skank was a novelty at most, perhaps a source of derision. For Rachel, it was an alarm clanging through her skull, echoing and reverberating and impossible to ignore.

They weren't friends, not really. But she had to appeal to Quinn in some way, had to find the common ground between them. She approached the Skanks, watching as they smoked under the bleachers. Watched Quinn light a cigarette and hold it, her eyes fixed on the smoke curling away from the tip.

So Rachel delivered her little speech, the one she practiced in front of the mirror many times the previous night. She was much better at practicing monologues by herself than dialogue, and was almost relieved when Quinn really didn't say anything, just stared, holding her lit cigarette and her lighter.

"Whenever you're ready, okay?" Rachel finished, softly, imploring Quinn to think about it. Quinn merely stared inscrutably, and as soon as Rachel began to leave, turned her attention back to her cigarette.

It was only as Rachel was walking away that she realized that Quinn really wasn't smoking, at all.

.

At first, she took it as a good sign. Quinn wasn't quite on the self-destructive streak she was affecting. She wasn't really risking her health and her voice by smoking those disgusting coffin nails.

She watched Quinn, then, surreptitiously. The Skanks tended to meet under the bleachers at around the same time every day, and they didn't care who saw them. As long as Rachel didn't get too close, they'd never know she was watching them.

Quinn stood with them, yes, but she was frequently silent. And, Rachel was right, she barely smoked the cigarettes. Instead, she would light them multiple times. Light them, watch them, let them burn out, light them again.

The Skanks didn't notice. Quinn didn't say much, just stood with them and watched her cigarettes burn.

.

It was a relief, in a strange way, to see Quinn so apathetic about the Skanks. If cigarettes were more interesting, what could she be getting out of spending time with them? So Rachel waited.

Quinn dyed her hair blonde again and was back in school, looking like her normal self, before too much time had even passed. Still, Rachel kept an eye on her, because much as she looked liked Quinn, she still didn't quite seem like Quinn.

And one day, she noticed it. Outside, during lunch, Quinn was standing, surveying the football field. Not under the bleachers with the Skanks, not at the door to the girl's locker room, but off by herself, near the goalpost.

In her hands was a lighter.

Rachel watched with fervent attention. Was Quinn going to light one up? Had nicotine seeped into her body enough to make an addict of her?

But Quinn just twirled the lighter in her fingers a few times, then lit it. And held it. And watched it.

She never lit a cigarette. Rachel subsided.

Quinn watched the flame.

.

Somehow, Rachel managed to say more words that stopped Quinn from going down a self-destructive path.

Quinn admitted as much to her in the Principal's office, at least, when she thanked her for stopping her from doing something stupid.

And then, Rachel was sure, she was the same old Quinn again. Or maybe, a new and improved Quinn, one who had walked through the fire, gotten burned, and recovered. A tender, pink, healing Quinn.

Rachel was glad.

.

Over Christmas, she and Finn fought.

It was stupid, really. She had been purposely pushing him, trying to figure out if he could provide for her if it took awhile for her to make her dreams come true. He hadn't even noticed that her demands for expensive Christmas gifts clashed with her Jewish beliefs, and the resulting argument had left them not speaking for a few days.

During that time, she somehow found herself at Quinn's house.

She wasn't really sure why, except that it felt like they were really friends now, and that if anyone would understand what it was like to argue with someone as clueless as Finn, it would be Quinn.

Quinn was obviously surprised to find Rachel on her doorstep, but she recovered quickly, and ushered her inside. Quinn walked her through the dim, empty house to the kitchen, through a dining room, where an Advent wreath, with four candles lit, sat in the center of the table.

In the kitchen, Quinn struck a match and lit the stove, then put some water on for hot chocolate. "I have dark chocolate," she said, letting the match burn down almost to her fingertips and then shaking it out. "Baking chocolate, basically. But it's good if you add some sugar, and vegan."

Rachel nodded, "That would be lovely."

They didn't say much as Quinn heated the water and prepared the hot chocolate for them both, but after it was ready, she ushered Rachel upstairs to her bedroom. "I don't know when my mom will be home," is all she said by way of explanation.

Quinn's room wasn't what Rachel expected. Noah had described it once, described the way it looked like some kind of virginal paradise, with Jesus on the wall and white sheets and pastel colors. Evidently, Quinn had done some redecorating. Her sheets were red, now, and she had one of those starry sky globes that projected stars all over her ceiling, though the bulb was replaced with the flickering candle bulb that people used to put fake candles in their windows for the holidays. Perhaps it gave the stars some degree of authenticity that Rachel didn't get. And there were candles. Noah hadn't mentioned those, and though candles in a teenage girl's room weren't that remarkable, Rachel felt like they might be something Noah would've mentioned, because they weren't romantic little votives, or safe glass-encased ones. No, they were the kind that got wax all over her desk.

They sat on Quinn's bed. Quinn sipped her hot chocolate and finally said softly, "So. What are you doing at my house?"

Rachel sighed, and before she knew it, the words were coming out. "I'm breaking up with Finn," she said.

Quinn merely raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I just decided it."

"Okay." Quinn sipped her hot chocolate again.

Rachel stared, "I guess I just thought you should know."

Quinn shrugged, "It doesn't really effect me. Or interest me. But thanks."

"Oh." Rachel sat back, sipping her hot chocolate and observing the room. Finally, she asked, "Why do you have so many candles?"

In answer, Quinn reached into her bedside table and extracted cigarettes and a lighter.

Rachel squawked in anger, "You will not light up in front of me!"

Quinn snorted out a little laugh, "Relax. I'm just explaining. Candles and incense…they're great at masking smells." She stood up and crossed the room, where she rummaged around until she found a stick of incense. She flicked the lighter, cupping her hand around it delicately, and guided it slowly to the tip of the incense stick. Rachel watched as she lit the tip, let it burn, and then blew softly.

Quinn watched the smoke curl from the incense, took a deep breath, and sighed. Rachel could practically see the tension leave her body.

Quinn turned and smiled. "Besides, aromatherapy. So they're good even when I don't have any smells to mask."

"You're not still smoking, are you?" Rachel couldn't help but ask.

Quinn chuckled, twirling the lighter between her fingers. "No. But I knew they'd get a strong reaction out of you."

Rachel blushed, unable to decide how this made her feel. Scrutinized, sort of. But like Quinn knew her. Like Quinn cared what she thought.

She decided she liked when Quinn produced strong reactions in her.

.

Finn took the breakup harder than she expected.

She wanted to feel bad, but…she didn't. Not really. It seemed pretty apparent that it was the right thing to do. Ever since they were intimate for the first time, things hadn't been the same. Finn seemed more in love than ever and Rachel just felt…cold.

She felt bad for freezing him out, but things weren't going to get better. And she had a future to prepare for that, it was becoming increasingly obvious, couldn't include him.

She needed grades, she needed New Directions wins, and she needed focus to get into NYADA. She didn't need distractions.

Yet her focus tended to drift toward Quinn.

She found herself at Quinn's house, many afternoons. They didn't even necessarily have to do anything, or talk about anything. It was just comforting to be in her warm bedroom with the flickering star globe, the scent of incense, the candlelight.

Sometimes they did homework. Sometimes they watched TV in the dim room, sitting close together on Quinn's bed.

And then one evening, Quinn lifted a small candle from her bedside table. She brought out her lighter, lit it, and held it, illuminating both their faces.

When she leaned in and kissed Rachel, the candle remained, close enough to just warm Rachel's cheek.

Quinn pulled back to look at her, eyes darting from the candle to Rachel's face and back again. Rachel tried to collect her thoughts, and leaned in to kiss Quinn again.

Before allowing Rachel to climb on top of her, deepening their kissing, Quinn placed the little candle back on the bedside table, still just next to their heads, but further now.

Rachel, no longer fearing being burned, dove in.

.

They didn't exactly keep it a secret. They just didn't really tell anyone, either.

Still, only Finn seemed to notice how often they sat next to each other, at lunch, in class, in Glee club. But that was because he was still in the stage where all he did was make puppy eyes at Rachel, and neither girl was much concerned that he would devise why they were so close now.

Close was the word. They didn't talk a whole lot about what anything meant, just enjoyed themselves and their company. Especially after Quinn got into Yale. Rachel could see the remote sadness in her eyes ever since her acceptance letter arrived. Whatever this was, it seemed unlikely to last.

Still, they spent most evenings together, escaping the ice and snow outside by cozying up in Quinn's warm, flickering bedroom. Hanging out or making out.

And when they weren't making out, Quinn was playing with her candles.

Rachel watched her, enthralled by Quinn's fascination. She would tilt the candles to make them melt faster, dripping wax all over her desk, her fingertips, all over a notebook. She'd try to drip distinct patterns, she'd slowly move her finger through the flame, until it turned black with residue. Sometimes, she'd feed little scraps of paper, the size of fortune cookie slips, to the flames.

And always, when she put the candle down, she'd kiss Rachel.

.

Things lost that degree of stability after Regionals.

Finn had nearly ruined their winning performance because he'd somehow formed the mistaken impression that Rachel was singing their last song to him, ironically, perhaps, or mockingly.

Finn yelled at Rachel so loudly backstage that she couldn't believe the entire audience wasn't hearing this. Quinn stood, her hands clenching and unclenching, her eyes darting every which way. Rachel could tell she was equal parts furious and panicked, but had no idea how to help.

A few minutes later, after Noah and Kurt finally coaxed Finn away, she found Quinn in the girl's backstage bathroom. When she stepped in and immediately coughed, her sensitive lungs reacting automatically to the small cloud of smoke, she grew frantic. "Quinn?"

"Shhh!" Quinn hissed. "I disabled the smoke alarm."

"Oh my God!" Rachel strode to the sink, searching for Quinn's cigarette, but there wasn't one. Instead, there was a fire burning in the sink, flames licking as high as the faucet, and Quinn hunched over it, breathing hard. "What are you thinking?" Rachel scolded, turning on the water and watching half-charred papers hiss and break apart, ashes washing down the drain.

Quinn turned dark, furious eyes to her. "Why did you do that?!"

"Because someone could get hurt!"

"It's a controlled fire, Rachel," Quinn snarled, barely any of that supposed control in her voice.

"Why," Rachel asked, feeling her throat tighten around her worry.

"Because that song needs to burn," Quinn said, her voice tense but certain.

Rachel looked into the sink again, and then recognized the sheet music to "Here's to Us." She swallowed. "You know that song wasn't about him."

"I know. It doesn't matter."

Rachel was terrified of losing everything between them, of the little fire they'd been stoking extinguishing. So she touched Quinn gently on the shoulder. Quinn flinched, but look at her with teary, anxious eyes. "We'll burn it when we get home," Rachel whispered, "Every copy I can get my hands on," she promised.

Quinn took a deep breath and nodded, then gathered up the last of the intact papers and flushed them down the toilet. Rachel ran the sink again, washing all the ashes away.

.

They got out the old fire pit that Quinn's father hadn't taken with him, a metal one, enclosed with a mesh top, so they could be sure no papers would blow away. Quinn started the fire with sticks and a few thick branches from the trees in her backyard. Rachel was kind of impressed that she didn't need any lighter fluid or even one of those newspaper firestarters.

It wasn't exactly a roaring fire, because the enclosed pit wasn't that big to begin with, and the fuel was mostly relatively small sticks, but it was enough that when Quinn nudged it open and pushed in crumpled handfuls of sheet music, the fire wasn't smothered.

Rachel huddled trembling in her winter coat and watched Quinn systematically burn every copy of the song that Rachel had been able to find.

When she was finished, she stood up and sighed heavily, then moved to stand next to Rachel, putting her arm around her shoulders. Rachel could feel the heat emanating off her body, and leaned into her.

They watched the fire burn down to embers together, then Rachel poured two jugs of water on top, just to be safe.

.

Things reached a stasis for awhile, and as the weather outside began to warm up, the clothes that Quinn and Rachel wore in Quinn's bedroom began to come off.

Rachel was getting very familiar with Quinn's breasts.

And it seemed natural to her that, perhaps, if Quinn enjoyed playing with hot wax on her fingers, maybe that whole romantic kink cliché might get a reaction out of her.

So Rachel suggested in one day, when she was on top of Quinn and kissing her. She had heard the best way to ask for something new in the bedroom was to be enthusiastic, so she picked up the nearest candle on the bedside table and asked seductively, "How would you like to feel this on your tender little…breasts?" She tried to say tits, honestly. But it was too awkward for her.

Quinn gazed up at her, frowning a little as she appeared to think about it. "I don't know," she admitted, "I guess I could try it?"

"Okay," Rachel smirked. She took a deep breath and sat back a little. Quinn reclined, eyes fixed on the flame, trying to look relaxed.

At the first drop of wax on her sternum, Quinn hissed and squeezed her eyes shut. She allowed Rachel to try a few more drops before shaking her head. "I don't think I like it," she admitted, still eyeing the candle.

"Oh. It's okay," Rachel put the candle down and leaned to kiss Quinn. When she sat up, she realized Quinn was still eying the candle.

"But…I think I'd like to try it on you."

"Oh. Okay. Yes, I think I'd like that," Rachel responded, and allowed Quinn to flip them.

Quinn kissed all over her breasts and stomach and then reached over to grab the candle. She held it over Rachel, gazing at her face to gauge her response, and Rachel nodded.

The first drop of wax was a little shock from the point of impact on her chest straight to her hard nipples. She gasped, and looked at Quinn, to try to express that she wanted it again.

But Quinn was looking at the candle now, and watching the next drop of wax fall. Rachel moaned slightly when it hit.

Quinn looked at her then, a slow grin spreading. "I know what we can do," she murmured, and tossed on a tank top to run downstairs. Rachel took the opportunity to peel the dry wax from her chest. The skin beneath was pink and warm.

Quinn returned moments later with a glass of ice. Rachel's eyes widened, but she settled back against the pillows, and let Quinn trail the ice over her chest, swirling her nipples, leaving wet skin and a thrill of excitement in Rachel.

The wax hitting her cool skin seemed to jolt to her clit this time, and abruptly, Rachel's chest wasn't the only part of her that was wet.

They played with fire and ice together, Rachel squirming and aching for more, and Quinn watching the candle flame with an easy smirk and a sparkle in her eyes.

.

As the evenings began to turn more brisk than frigid, Quinn began to use her father's old fire pit more. There was always something that needed to burn, she told Rachel.

Rachel watched, and a part of her wondered whether this sort of catharsis was normal. One evening, they were burning Quinn's middle school yearbook, erasing the evidence of Lucy's existence. Another evening, it was birthday cards and books—mostly religious themed—that Quinn's father had given her over the years. Another night, it was an old sweatshirt of Noah's, definitely borrowed during Quinn's pregnancy days, and cut up into enough pieces that it did eventually burn; Quinn had glared when Rachel suggested that maybe he might want that back.

Whenever it would occur to Rachel that perhaps they should talk about the fires after it was over, she would forget. Mostly because afterwards, Quinn would to drag her upstairs and kiss her until she couldn't breathe.

.

"So, why do you like fire so much?" Rachel asked one afternoon, as they cuddled topless after making out.

Quinn squirmed uncomfortably for a few seconds and Rachel could feel her shrug. "I don't know. I just do," she answered almost petulantly.

"I was just curious," Rachel murmured, feeling bad.

Quinn was quiet for a long moment, and finally she said softly, "I've always liked it. It's always been…comforting. Fire is a spiritual symbol. In everything from the menorah to the Jesus candle that is always lit in the front of the church. I always liked lighting the candles at the dinner table and building fires with my dad. It's just that…" she paused again. "I just…learned more about myself over the summer, and I learned just how much I like fire. It really…makes me feel good."

"Okay," Rachel answered quietly. She could understand that. Spiritually soothing. It was typically a symbolic force of change. Of strength.

Of new beginnings.

.

The first time they had sex was a planned event, sort of.

Things had been moving in that direction for awhile, as they kissed and touched and played and both their bodies screamed to be touched.

"My mom won't be home tonight," Quinn whispered in Rachel's ear during Glee club. This in itself wasn't that unusual; Rachel never really figured out where Quinn's mother was, because Quinn never wanted to talk about her. And when she was home, it still didn't make a lot of difference. "Want to come over and put on a movie and not watch it?" Quinn finished huskily.

Rachel raised an eyebrow and stifled a smirk. "Does that line really work?" she whispered back.

Quinn's hot lips against her ear answered, "You tell me. Are you coming?"

"Not yet I'm not," Rachel replied boldly, her voice pitched lower, trying to match the sensuality in Quinn's initial query.

When she pulled away, Quinn was the one looking at her with her eyebrow raised. She bit her lip, nodded once, and turned her attention back to Mr. Schue, her hands moving restlessly in her lap. Rachel knew then what would happen that night.

She didn't quite know how to prepare for the event. So she went home and showered and made sure her body was groomed to her approval—because Quinn had never expressed any preferences in that regard. She made sure her teeth and her hair were brushed. She left her hair down, because Quinn seemed to like running her hands through it. She applied minimal make-up—waterproof, because she recalled sweating a lot during her first time with Finn.

When she arrived at Quinn's, it was clear that she had done some preparations, too. She wore jeans and a button-down, the kind of clothes she wore around the house, so different from the dresses she favored at school. The kind of clothes Rachel thought looked better on her. She ushered Rachel into the house and guided her to the dining room. Candles were lit at one end of the table, and Quinn asked Rachel to sit while she went into the kitchen.

Quinn brought out food. A vegetable stir-fry with rice. Rachel felt warm, because it was rare that someone would cook for her. But Quinn had prepared this admittedly simple but still delicious vegan dish.

They ate together, but Rachel found her stomach was too nervous for her to eat too much. Quinn seemed to be in a similar situation, and she fidgeted frequently and sometimes gazed at the candles when she and Rachel weren't talking.

And after dinner, Quinn led her to the room that had once been her father's office. It still had bookshelves filled with books lining the walls, though his desk was gone, and only comfortable armchairs and a fainting couch decorated the room. That, and a big bearskin rug in front of the flickering fireplace.

Rachel stared at the rug. "Oh my God. What is that?"

"That?" Quinn shrugged, "It was my dad's. I'm 90 percent sure that it's fake. It's not like he was a hunter."

"It's hideous."

"Yeah," Quinn agreed, "But it is soft, and it's right in front of the fireplace." She sat on it and faced the fire, but almost immediately stood up to grab another log, put it on, and then shuffled things around with the fire poker, stoking the flames back to full strength. Rachel realized that it was a real fireplace, not an electric one. Satisfied, Quinn sat on the bearskin rug again and, tentatively, Rachel joined her.

She was right. It was soft. She ran a hand through the long fur, trying to discern if it felt fake. She had no way to tell.

She looked at Quinn, who was sitting and staring into the flames, but she noticed Rachel, and turned her head. Then, she leaned over and kissed her.

It was different, a little, from the other kisses they'd shared. Almost as tentative as their first one. But after that initial kiss, they both stopped being so tentative. They stripped each other, gently but not slowly. Quinn laid Rachel down on the rug, and Rachel shivered a little as the fur tickled her back. But it was hard to think about it when Quinn was naked in front of her.

Quinn ran a finger over Rachel's chest, tracing the paths that so much ice and wax had taken. Rachel shivered, and Quinn leaned over to kiss her as her hand moved lower. Deft fingers stroked Rachel's folds, and slid inside, and Rachel gasped and arched her body. It was…it felt…

Quinn's fingers moved, and she watched Rachel's face, and unlike her first time with Finn in front of a fireplace, Rachel didn't feel uncomfortably sweaty, or like she had to do it. It had absolutely been her choice to have sex with Finn, but she hadn't done it for herself. This, this was for both of them, and the way Quinn drank her expression as her hand kept moving made Rachel feel even more special. Not like Finn, who kept squeezing his eyes shut during the act.

Quinn was biting her lip and furrowing her brow as she kept touching Rachel, but her other hand was also stroking the hair out of Rachel's face, caressing her skin, and grabbing her hand. Comforting gestures. And Rachel felt safe and warm and cared for and before too long, she felt herself coming, hips rolling against Quinn's hand, gasping and moaning as Quinn murmured, "Yes," in pleasure and triumph.

Rachel opened her eyes, still breathing hard, and sat up to hug Quinn. Quinn held her for a long moment while Rachel struggled with her emotions. Sex had never felt so good and so natural, but there was so much about their relationship that was left unsaid, including whether this was actually a relationship.

Rachel controlled herself and pulled away slightly. "Lie down," she told Quinn gently, and Quinn did, looking abruptly like a deer in the headlights. Rachel took a moment to admire the way the firelight lit up the darker tones in Quinn's blonde hair, the way it seemed to make her pale skin glow. And then she began to kiss her and gently touch her body.

The further down Quinn's body she kissed and touched, the more Quinn's eyes drifted, left, toward the fireplace.

And soon, Quinn was no longer really looking and smiling at Rachel at all, but was just staring at the fire, while Rachel's hand circled her clit, and Quinn lost herself, staring into the fire, until her head snapped back in the throes of ecstasy.

Rachel held her, and tried not to cry, as she realized that her sort-of girlfriend was aroused by fire.

.

As the spring warmed up, Rachel really started to focus on her NYADA audition. She didn't want to spend less time with Quinn, but she did need to be ready, and Kurt wanted to spend a lot of evenings together discussing every possible audition piece they could use. Rachel liked Kurt, of course, but things were still weird because, as Finn's step-brother, Kurt felt like he was expected to take sides in the break-up when he really didn't want to.

Rachel felt bad doing it, but she sometimes used this guilt to make Kurt go home so that she could go over to Quinn's.

They kept having sex, and cuddling, and basically doing everything people in a relationship did except talk about their feelings. Rachel knew she had feelings for Quinn. It wasn't an extreme revelation; she'd always found Quinn beautiful and had always wanted to be close to her. Rachel thought Quinn might have feelings for her, but then, maybe Quinn could really only feel attraction for fire. Rachel wasn't sure, and, like feelings, Quinn's intimate relationship with fire wasn't something they'd talked about either.

Though they really didn't have sex in front of the fireplace again, there were always candles in the bedroom. A lot of candles, and Quinn definitely looked at them during sex. Rachel tried hard not to let it break her heart, but she also wasn't used to holding everything inside, not when feelings and suspicions and uncertainty kept pushing at her throat.

It was hard to talk about NYADA with Quinn, or Yale, for that matter. It was clear that neither of them wanted to think much about what would happen when they all went off to college in several months.

So she kept holding Quinn, and making love to her in her heart and mind, and helping her make fires in the fire pit when she needed to.

.

One day, Rachel tried to come over, but Quinn wouldn't let her in. Deeper in the house, Rachel could hear a woman crying.

But Rachel didn't go home. She stayed parked on the street in front of Quinn's house, and waited until Quinn's mother left the house, then knocked again. Quinn answered, looking furious and tearful.

She didn't say much, just that something had happened with her dad that had deeply upset her mom, and then she proceeded to gather everything from the house that her dad had left behind.

When Quinn started dragging furniture—mostly chairs—to the wheelbarrow in the backyard, Rachel started to wonder what was happening and how this was going to happen. But she helped all the same. She didn't want Quinn to hurt herself. She watched as Quinn chopped the chairs into pieces with the firewood axe.

Quinn began pushing the wheelbarrow full of other items into the shed and shoving it inside. A lump surfaced in Rachel's throat and she began to get nervous. "What are we doing?"

"Getting rid of him," Quinn snarled, pushing the lawn mower out into the center of the yard, but keeping the gasoline can, which she opened.

"Quinn! You can't!" Rachel cried.

"I've got this!" Quinn screamed.

"No!" Rachel grabbed the can of gasoline and wrenched it out of Quinn's hands. "Quinn, even if you do keep the fire under control, someone will call the fire department, and they won't like what they see."

Quinn stood, lip trembling. "I need this," she whispered.

"We'll use the fire pit. We'll burn everything. We just can't burn the shed."

Quinn struggled not to cry, but eventually nodded. They built the fire in the fire pit using the wood from the chairs she'd already demolished, and they added his belongings from the wheelbarrow. The fire wasn't nearly hot enough to destroy a lot of them, not really. But it at least warped some things, or covered them with enough soot and ash that after hours of trying to burn everything, Quinn had to accept that they'd done all they could.

When the fire burned down, she put everything back in the wheelbarrow in the shed again.

Rachel tried not to be afraid.

.

She held Quinn in her bed that night, while Quinn shook and sobbed. Part of it, Rachel knew, was whatever had set her and her mother off in the first place, and part of it was the failure to burn the things she really, really wanted to burn.

Rachel wanted to take Quinn's mind off everything, but somehow, what came out was, "Why don't you look at me when we have sex?"

Quinn stopped crying almost immediately, and turned red eyes to Rachel. "What are you talking about? You coming is the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."

Rachel blushed at the compliment. "No, but…when I…touch you. You're always looking at a candle or something."

Quinn looked away and didn't say anything.

"Are you…aroused by fire?" Rachel asked tentatively.

Quinn buried her face in her hands. "I don't know," she whispered.

"But there has to be a reason—"

"It just makes me feel good," Quinn interrupted firmly.

"Good…how?"

"Like…" Quinn trailed off, "It calms me, okay? When I make fire, when I watch it burn…it helps me turn off the parts of my brain that tell me I'm bad, or I'm not good enough, or that nothing is okay." She looked at Rachel, "Fire makes me feel better."

Rachel cuddled up to her, feeling warmer already. Quinn wasn't attracted to fire. Fire was the thing that calmed Quinn down enough to let her guard down with Rachel. Fire was the thing that made their relationship possible. Fire was the thing that gave Quinn the courage to kiss her, to have sex with her, to love her.

Even if she couldn't say it yet.

.

When the shed in Quinn's backyard burnt down, Rachel didn't know whether to be angry or not.

The fire department came quickly, though, not in time to save the tiny shed. Still, they kept the fire from spreading. And, ostensibly, Quinn wasn't even home at the time; she had been at the store with her mother. The cause of the fire was blamed on a cigarette, and the fire department posited that maybe some kids had broken into the shed to find a discrete place to smoke.

Rachel felt like she knew better. She didn't know how Quinn managed it, but she was sure she had.

Quinn didn't admit it, though, and maintained that she hadn't been there. Still, she seemed much happier, much more relaxed for the next several weeks, at least until the week of Rachel's audition.

She was definitely supportive of Rachel, and helped her prepare, and reminded her that she was a star and that Quinn believed in her, but a part of her became subdued. Rachel could feel it, too. Neither of them liked to be reminded that whatever they had might not last.

Backstage before her audition, Quinn kissed her and held her for a long moment. "You know," she murmured into Rachel's hair, "Yale and NYADA aren't that far away."

"What are you saying?" Rachel asked.

"I'm saying that…" Her eyes dropped to her hands, which fumbled for her lighter. "Whatever this is…" She lit it, took a deep breath, "Maybe college doesn't have to end it."

Rachel stared at her, "Do you really mean that?"

Quinn shrugged, "I mean, whatever you want."

Rachel kissed her, hard, and went out onstage to nail her audition.

.

They went to Prom together, sort of.

Quinn had been nominated for Prom Queen again that year, though she feigned a lack of interest in actually winning. But Rachel knew better. She made posters for Quinn's campaign. She talked to every Glee club member personally about voting for Quinn—even Santana, who threatened bodily harm after reminding Rachel that she was running, too. Still, she persisted, until Santana finally agreed to vote for Quinn if it meant getting Rachel out of her face. She doubted Santana would follow through on it, but it was a start.

At Prom, they arrived together, though no one really seemed to take note. They danced together a lot, too, though it was easy to pretend they were only doing it to keep Finn from having an opening to talk to Rachel. They'd just stand and talk until they saw Finn coming, and then start dancing.

At one point, Quinn whispered in Rachel's ear, "All I can think about is those fake volcanoes coming to life and pouring hot lava all over the school, and you and I escaping." It was somehow one of the most romantic things Rachel had ever heard.

And in the end, Quinn won Prom Queen.

Santana had been in charge of counting the votes, and a part of Rachel wondered if the whole thing had been rigged somehow, but it was hard to imagine Santana doing something just to make Quinn feel good.

Quinn seemed to glow when she was onstage, getting crowned, though when it came time to dance with Finn, she simply twirled away from him. Santana, Brittany and Rachel were all there waiting for her, and the four of them all danced together, while Finn looked dejected until Kurt and Blaine, taking pity on him, came up to dance with him.

Rachel felt like it was a little childish, but at the same time, she couldn't stop laughing.

After Prom, they went back to Quinn's house, and she made a fire in the backyard. Rachel felt weird to be outside in her Prom dress, but she couldn't help but admit that Quinn making a fire in her dress was pretty hot.

To Rachel's shock, Quinn tossed her Prom Queen crown into the fire.

"But why?!" Rachel sputtered, staring at it.

Quinn slipped her arm around Rachel's shoulders and watched the fire. "Because I don't need it, now that I have you."

Rachel felt her face melting into a smile, and looked away a little so that Quinn wouldn't see her staring, because Quinn was starting to bite her lip nervously after that pronouncement. It had been a big step, that kind of subtle admission of feelings.

They watched the crown melt together.

.

Nationals was exciting, but also stressful.

For some reason, Mr. Schue thought it was a good idea to pair Rachel and Finn off for the Meatloaf number, despite the protests of many in the New Directions. Even Santana stood up and shouted that giving Finn a reason to storm offstage in rage during their biggest performance of a year was a poor judgment call.

But Finn stood up and reassured everyone that he was over Rachel, and felt bad about his behavior over the last several months, and wanted to be friends.

"Half of us are going to be leaving soon," he told the Glee club, "I know people are planning to go away for college, and I don't know where the military will take me, but I don't want to leave my friends and the people I care about on a bad note. I want us to be a team again."

This seemed to comfort about half the club, though Santana still looked highly skeptical, and Quinn looked irritated.

Rachel herself still felt very nervous. Last year's Nationals was very fresh in her mind, in which Finn had destroyed their chances of winning by trying to win her back. And as far as Finn knew, she wasn't seeing anybody…

They practiced, and were fairly civil, and even though Quinn glared daggers at Finn, for the most part, Rachel enjoyed the number. It put kind of a playful spin on the end of their relationship, with Finn begging and Rachel pushing him away. She made eyes at Quinn whenever she could during the rehearsals, which made Quinn smile a little.

And, as she hoped, Nationals went well. She knew she nailed her solo, the old so-called Troubletones nailed their number, and she and Finn played well off each other during the Meatloaf song. It was enough to remind Rachel, with a hint of nostalgia, why she was attracted to Finn in the first place, but just looking at Quinn reminded her of why she didn't really miss Finn. Even though Quinn was more comfortable as a background vocalist, she made Rachel feel more than Finn ever did. She didn't need to be a star to make Rachel love her.

Because, Rachel now knew, Quinn was more comfortable watching stars shine. And she wouldn't change that for anything.

.

She and Kurt got their letters from NYADA on the same day. They hyped themselves up all day, going through the graduation ceremony on a high, elated from forcing themselves to wait to open their letters. They gathered in the choir room to open them together.

Quinn was with them, and, if Kurt thought this was odd, he didn't show it. But she was there, standing next to them, looking almost as excited and nervous as they felt.

Kurt and Rachel opened their letters simultaneously, and as soon as Rachel looked up at Kurt, victory on her lips, she could see from his bloodless face that he had been rejected. Still, the words tumbled out, "I got in!"

"I didn't," Kurt said quietly, confirming Rachel's fears, and some of her excitement sunk right out of her body.

To her surprise, it was Quinn that moved to hug him first. She looked like she was second-guessing the decision as soon as her arms went around him, but she held on, until Kurt shrugged her off.

"I…don't know what to do," he whispered.

"You can still come with me," Rachel said softly.

"I know, but…" he shook his head, "I don't know. I have to think about it. I have to rethink everything."

Rachel's heart seemed to freeze as she processed the fact that she'd almost definitely be heading to New York alone.

.

Quinn took her back to her house after the disastrous letter-opening event, and held Rachel in her candlelit room.

"I feel bad for him," Quinn finally offered, and from her tone, Rachel could tell even Quinn thought this was a lame assessment of the situation.

Rachel sighed, and wiped a tear off her cheek. "Me, too. But I'm also sad for me. I just…I thought we'd go together, and now that I'm going alone, it just feels scary."

"You won't be alone," Quinn murmured.

Rachel just looked at her uncertainly, and Quinn's eyes darted away to fix on a candle flame. "What do you mean?" Rachel finally asked.

Quinn shrugged, "I just…" She sighed, stood up, and crossed the room to her dresser. From her underwear drawer, she produced an envelope. "I just mean that I'm only a train ride away."

Rachel tilted her head, thinking this over, trying to remember how far away New Haven was. Quinn awkwardly shoved the envelope at her. "What's this?" she asked. Quinn didn't answer, so she opened it, and took out two unfamiliar pieces of paper.

As she tried to puzzle them out, Quinn finally spoke. "Metro North passes," she said quietly. "We can use them to ride the train to get to each other. So we can see each other when we want."

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel said softly, and scrambled up to hug her. Quinn held her gently.

"I just want to make sure we can find our way to each other," she muttered sheepishly.

In that moment, Rachel felt like she'd follow Quinn anywhere, like a moth to a flame.

.

The summer passed quickly, and it felt like barely any time passed before it was time for Rachel to go to New York and Quinn to go to New Haven. They'd packed up everything they could into Quinn's red bug, with Rachel fathers agreeing to mail the things that didn't fit.

They slept in their own beds for their last night in Lima. Rachel wanted to stay with Quinn, but Quinn pointed out that her fathers probably wanted to spend the evening with her before she left. And she was right. They ordered her favorite take-out, and they spent the evening singing showtunes together, before sending Rachel to bed early. She and Quinn had a long drive ahead of them to get Rachel to her new campus and for Quinn to drive yet another few hours to Yale.

In the morning, Rachel woke up so early that she decided she couldn't wait for Quinn to come get her. She ate a quick breakfast, put on her backpack with her last set of belongings it in, and began walking to Quinn's. It wasn't that far, maybe a mile, and she figured the walk could be like her elliptical workout for the day.

When she turned on Quinn's street, something seemed wrong, and she began to run. And then she saw Quinn's bug, driving toward her. It screeched to a stop, and Quinn got out.

"Quinn!" Rachel asked, "What's wrong?" She could just see Quinn's house, could see a flickering from inside it, could see smoke coming from a window. Could see, thankfully, that Quinn's mother's car was gone.

"Nothing," Quinn said, turning back to look at the house. A slow, wide grin split her face. "Just taking care of some business before I leave."

Rachel stared at her, and at the house. Quinn seemed transfixed as the flickering light inside seemed to grow brighter and the smoke got darker.

Quinn turned to look at her abruptly, "Come with me?" she asked.

It was an odd question. Rachel looked at her, looked at her elation, the spark in her eyes. That look of adoration that only appeared on her face when she looked at Rachel or at fire.

With a moment of hesitation, she took Quinn's hand, and they walked to the car together. Quinn took off, and they drove into the rising sun, ready to face their destinies. Like phoenixes, reborn as new people, in new places, leaving only ashes behind.

Rachel tried not to look back at the burning house, and tried not to think about what might need to burn next, as they blazed a new path together.