Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

AN: This is a continuation of my one-shot 'White Flag.' It's kind of necessary to read White Flag first, just to get a feel for these characters, as they're a little OOC based on the events of 'White Flag.'

While I was writing, I found that the character of Santana was a tough one, and the story just started leading itself in one direction, and I found myself resisting. Please let me know what you think. just to see if I was the only one getting a certain impression.

This 6-Part covers most of their sophomore year ('White Flag' is mainly their freshman one), and I have plans for more. Later. Some day. Anyway, please enjoy.

Part One

Hey, Soul Sister

It's the third week of summer when Rachel Berry's vacation starts to look up.

Well, even more up, because now she's in an actual relationship with someone she absolutely adores, and that should be that about that.

Except, well, it's not.

Because the 'someone' Rachel adores is a girl.

A very pretty girl with very pretty hazel eyes and very pretty blonde hair.

But, still, very much a girl.

Society tells them one thing, and fear dictates everything else, which is why, to the outside world, all Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray are is best friends.

Who occasionally kiss and are, admittedly, as in love as fifteen-year-olds can be.

It's not that Rachel has complaints. Not really. She and Quinn both realise the necessity to keep the truth about their romantic relationship a secret, and Rachel accepts that. They might not get to act like all those other socially-accepted couples, but they do get to do more than, say, two boys as opposed to two girls.

Because, you see, Quinn has mastered the art of casual touching in public.

It's unfortunate, Rachel reasons, that she has also perfected the art of pretending she's okay when she's really not.

Being with Quinn has clued Rachel in to some of the intricacies of clinical depression. She's done her own reading on the subject, beginning even before they started dating, and she's talked to her own therapist about ways to deal with what Quinn is coming to call her 'episodes.'

They, thankfully, don't happen often, but they do happen, and both girls are forced to face what they mean: Quinn wants to run away somewhere far, far away, and Rachel is one of the only things keeping her from doing so.

Another thing, which plagues Quinn more than she cares to admit, is that she doesn't think either of her parents would survive another such loss. If she's being honest, she doesn't think any of them has really survived the first one.

It's not something Quinn generally talks about, but Rachel knows to pay attention when she does. Those moments are very important, she's come to accept, and she listens with rapt attention whenever Quinn alludes to her family and the potential reasons behind her desire to run.

Rachel hasn't been in love before, and she's never really had a close friend like Quinn before either, so she worries she's confused things to some extent.

When she brings it up to her fathers - who are, of course, already privy to the changed status of the girls' relationship - they ask her the all important question.

Would you be satisfied with being just friends with Quinn?

For the most part, her answer is yes.

But, then, Quinn will interlace their fingers and lean in to kiss her cheek, and Rachel suddenly just knows the difference.

She's in love with her best friend, and that's that about that.

Well, it should be.

Quinn calls it a 'Mental Health Day.'

At first, Rachel doesn't quite understand what any of that has to do with her, but then Quinn goes on to explain.

"It's just a day," she says, her hand slipping easily into Rachel's as they settle onto the couch in the Berry family's living room. "My mom read about it while she was waiting in the reception at my new therapist. It's supposed to be this day when you just take the day off, essentially, and do something just for you."

Rachel merely nods, her eyes studying Quinn's face. This is the most Quinn has said about her graduation from trauma counsellor to personal, individual therapist, and Rachel has been trying not to pry.

She's learned in the past that Quinn does things only in her own time.

"Quinn," Rachel says. "It's the summer. I think every day could be referred to as a Mental Health Day."

Quinn grins at her, and Rachel feels her stomach flip. "Obviously," she says with a slight roll of her eyes. "I'm talking about when school starts up again. My mom says she'll allow me to skip one day per semester, and we'll get to do whatever I want. Just to give me a breather." She falls silent, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. "Just to give me the opportunity to run without actually running."

And, Rachel knows Quinn is saying far more with that last sentence than either of them is completely ready to discuss. They've broached it from time to time, but the explicit words still evade them.

Rachel wonders if they'll ever be old enough to discuss Quinn's sometimes desire not to be here anymore.

So, what they do talk about is this:

"I'm thinking I can convince my mom to take us to the mall tomorrow," Quinn says. "We can have some lunch, and I know you've been dropping hints about that cartoon you want to watch at the cinema."

"It's an animation," Rachel immediately protests, which earns her a naughty grin from her blonde girlfriend. "Oh, you, what am I ever going to do with you?"

"I can think of a few things," Quinn murmurs, wiggling her eyebrows.

Rachel smiles, suddenly bashful. The two of them have done nothing more than kiss, sometimes heatedly, but they've been feeling each other out in that department.

Excuse the pun.

They're learning together, Quinn says, because they both had zero experience before they shared their first kiss in Quinn's bedroom just a few weeks ago.

Still, Rachel reasons Quinn is naturally a phenomenal kisser. There's just something about the way she uses her lips and teeth and tongue to render Rachel Berry mute that must be a talent.

Which Quinn is currently putting to use.

Rachel knows Quinn wouldn't even dream of losing herself in this kind of kiss if they were in the Fabray house, so she's going to savour every sound and every touch, even if all they're doing is sitting beside each other and having a conversation without using any words.

Well, there are some words.

"God, you're gorgeous."

Rachel hears and registers that Quinn has spoken, but the blonde's words are followed by a soft bite to her bottom lip, and all coherent thought fails her. She makes some kind of sound, and then she's leaning into Quinn, tempted to crawl into her lap.

She might have, she thinks, if they don't hear the sound of the key in the front door, effectively bringing an end to what could have been the furthest they've gone.

The girls immediately break apart, faces flushed and lips swollen.

LeRoy Berry doesn't even have to see them to know what they've been up to. "At least turn on the television to make it look as if you haven't just been making out," he calls out as he heads straight to the kitchen, and that definitely doesn't help with the colour in their cheeks.

"Daddy," Rachel complains with a slight whine.

"Just keeping it real, Sweetheart."

Quinn smoothes down her clothing, and then grins at Rachel. "You're still gorgeous," she whispers.

"You're not helping."

Quinn takes hold of her hand. "Just think how much worse it would be if he actually caught us."

She groans out loud, and drops her head onto Quinn's shoulder, hiding her face. "I think I need a Mental Health Day right now."

"Berry," Santana says by way of greeting the very next day, and Rachel almost rolls her eyes. It's the first time they've really encountered and actually acknowledged each other outside of school or the bus, and Rachel's surprised by how strange it isn't.

It almost feels as if they've just decided to meet up at the mall to hang out, and Rachel's trying very hard not to read too much into that.

"Hello, Santana," Rachel says. "How's your summer going?"

Santana merely shrugs, not committing to an actual answer. "Yours?"

"It's been good," she says, which is an understatement. She's spent almost every day of her summer with Quinn, or talking to Quinn or texting Quinn, and it's meant everything and more to Rachel.

Santana nods, picking up on the lightness in Rachel's expression. It makes her feel irrationally jealous, and she's not even sure why. "How's our mutual friend?" Santana asks, even though the Latina has said only a handful of words to Quinn - none of them particularly kind.

Rachel glances past Santana's shoulder to where Quinn is walking towards them, a slightly wary expression on her face at the sight of the person to whom Rachel is speaking. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" Rachel suggests, and she gets far too much satisfaction from the widening of Santana's eyes and the tensing of her shoulders.

Santana turns her head to see Quinn's approach, and the two girls give each other a very significant once over.

It's all so amusing to Rachel, and she internally swoons when Quinn comes to stand at her left side, and says, "They don't have any vegan options."

"Damn," Rachel mutters; "And they looked so promising." She pouts for a moment, allows the atmosphere to turn awkward and then giggles softly. "Quinn, you know Santana. Santana, this is Quinn."

For a moment, nobody says anything.

Then, ever polite, Quinn says, "Lopez."

"Fabray."

Rachel rolls her eyes. Her experience with Santana has shown her that the Latina cares - probably doesn't actually want to - and she just has an odd way of showing it. It's obvious she... worries about Quinn in some weird capacity and, while Rachel should be wary of such a thing, she knows the two girls could make good friends.

Which is why she says what she does.

"We're actually looking for a restaurant to have lunch," she tells Santana. "Would you like to join us?"

Santana knows an extended olive branch when she sees it, and she hesitates for just a beat, her eyes flicking Quinn's way. She's met with a dangerously pretty, expressionless face, and Rachel doesn't even try to hide the hope shining in her own eyes.

With an internal sigh, Santana says, "Sure."

"Great," Rachel says and, while she avoids meeting Quinn's gaze, she's able to figure out her secret girlfriend isn't entirely happy with having her - their - former tormentor crashing their lunch date.

Rachel will make it up to her later.

Or, maybe she won't even have to, because Quinn will be so grateful. Who knows?

Sensing her fate, Quinn clears her throat. "Do you know any restaurants around here that have some decent vegan options?" she asks Santana.

It's odd, Santana thinks, that this is the first time Quinn has ever spoken words directly to her, and it's like a shock to her system. For a moment, she just stares, transfixed, until Rachel clears her throat.

Santana flushes, and then draws on her instincts to see her through. "Are you a vegan?" she asks Quinn.

"God, no," is Quinn's immediate response, and she crinkles her nose in mild disgust. "Rachel is, though."

"Dude. Ew."

Quinn chuckles, and the sound seems to settle the three of them. "See, Rach, another one," she says, gently nudging Rachel with her shoulder.

Rachel rolls her eyes, looking at Santana. "She has a mental list," she explains; "of all the people who are ignorant to the health, ethical and moral benefits of veganism."

This time, Santana's laugh fills the space. "Dude." She shakes her head. "No meat. No milk. No chocolate. How are you not a basket case?"

"Well," Quinn says, and Rachel pokes her in the ribs.

"Shut up."

Quinn just grins back at her with deep, deep affection, and Rachel feels heat rise up her neck, because there will never be a day when being looked at like that will grow old.

If Santana notices, she says nothing about it.

"Shall we?" Rachel suggests, and then they're on the move. She falls into step beside Quinn as Santana leads the way through the mall, looking as if she has a destination in mind.

Quinn is walking very close to her, their hands brushing every few steps, and Rachel can't help feeling giddy and young and happily in love.

She always worries about their secret, worries how Quinn will react if anyone ever reads too closely into their friendship and sees the truth behind their seemingly innocent interactions.

But, then, Quinn will take chances like these: stand too close, hold her hand between their bodies, and Rachel can forget that the great big world even exists.

"What about this place?" Santana asks, coming up to a tiny Italian restaurant next to a music store. "They have vegan pasta, apparently." She looks at Quinn. "You eat pizza?"

Quinn doesn't, but she nods anyway. She's sure she'll find something somewhat decent to eat on the menu. "I'm game," she says. "Rach?"

"I could definitely go for some Italian."

Rachel thinks it should be awkward, but it's really not. In fact, it's almost worrying how the three of them seem to settle into conversation over their respective menus.

"I think I'm going to try the gnocchi," Quinn eventually declares, snapping her menu shut. "Have you two old ladies decided yet?"

"I resent that," Rachel says, still studying the options. "Just because we're older than you." She shakes her head. "The youth of today have absolutely no respect for their elders."

Quinn just laughs, this soft, breathy sound.

Santana remains silent as she reads. Then: "We can't go wrong with lasagna, right?"

"Nope," Rachel says. "They even have a cheeseless, vegan option."

"Oh, God," Santana complains, dropping her head onto the table with a dramatic thump. "You're literally sucking out my soul."

And, then, Quinn - precious, precious, lovable, adorable Quinn - says, "What soul?" and then laughs.

Santana exchanges a wary look with Rachel, who just shrugs.

And, okay, maybe this is Quinn's way of telling Santana that she's forgiven without the express apology, but nothing has been forgotten.

Rachel reaches for Quinn's hand under the table, carefully linking their fingers and squeezing gently.

Their server comes to take their order then, and the potentially awkward moment disappears into thin air.

It's almost too easy after that.

Somehow, Santana and Quinn get to talking about Harry Potter, and Rachel is content to sit back and just watch them get into a heated discussion about whether or not Harry really should have been in Gryffindor or Slytherin.

Rachel is almost taken aback that this gets to be her life now, because even she can't mistake that this is the start of something truly very special.

This is how it starts.

This friendship that started as tormentor versus tormented, and has ended up with Santana, Quinn and Rachel spending nearly ever afternoon outside by Quinn's pool, or nearly every evening inside the Berry basement, watching movies and singing surprisingly amazing karaoke.

The first time Rachel invites Santana over, both brunettes are unsure.

"Is Quinn okay with that?" Santana asks, because this has always been about Quinn, even when they could both pretend it isn't.

"She doesn't know," Rachel tells her truthfully. "She'll find out when she gets there."

"Won't she be mad?"

"Quinn doesn't really get mad," she says knowingly. "It's not really part of her personality."

"Oh?"

Rachel shrugs. "If she has a problem with it, we'll talk it out after you've left."

Santana just laughs. "It's your funeral," she says offhandedly, and then freezes.

"Right," Rachel says sombrely; "you should probably learn to censor yourself about things like that when you're around her."

"She doesn't know I know, does she?"

"No, she doesn't," Rachel says. "I think it's best if you let her tell you what she needs to in her own time. It's something of a bonding experience when she opens up to you."

Santana regards her closely. "She's important to you?"

"She's my best friend."

Santana opens her mouth, as if she wants to ask something else, but she thinks better of it. Not today. "What time should I get there?"

"Is five o'clock okay?"

"Sure."

And, like most things with the three of them, it's decidedly not awkward when Quinn does show up, practically strolling into the Berry home to find Rachel and Santana sifting through Rachel's movies for the perfect one.

Quinn's steps falter on the stairs to the basement, but she recovers quickly enough. "Hey," she says to them both.

Rachel immediately jumps up and rushes to her, casually draping her arms over Quinn's shoulders and bringing her into a tight embrace. "Hi," she whispers into Quinn's ear.

"What's going on?"

"Santana's joining us for our sleepover," Rachel informs her.

"Oh?"

Rachel squeezes once, and then reluctantly releases her. If Santana weren't in the room, they would probably be kissing... or doing some other things. It's the first time she realises that the two of them are going to have to censor their own relationship, and she suddenly regrets extending the invitation.

But, then, she also doesn't.

Quinn clears her throat. "What are we watching?" she asks, stepping past Rachel and further into the basement.

"Berry is convinced we're going to watch a musical," Santana says; "which is totally not happening."

Quinn can't help her grin. "I second that."

Rachel puffs out a breath. "I knew this was going to be a bad idea," she grumbles.

Quinn just wraps an arm around her shoulders, bringing her into a placating hug. "Let's watch something else first, and then you can whip out the PowerPoint to convince us, okay?"

Rachel pouts adorably, and Quinn looks like she wants to lean in and kiss it right off her lips.

But, Quinn catches herself, and then slips away without a word.

Rachel sighs.

Definitely not one of her better ideas.

It's nothing new, Quinn reasons, that she encounters Santana on her morning run just a few days later.

Before this particular Saturday, they didn't acknowledge each other, but things are different now.

They're friends.

Kind of.

So, when Santana sees Quinn, she falls into step beside her and they run together in silence.

For at least five miles.

While Santana develops a sheen of sweat, Quinn looks completely unruffled.

"How the fuck are you not dying right now?" Santana asks, panting, when they finally stop for a drink of water. "I'm a fucking Cheerio, which means I'm basically a robot, so what the fuck are you made of?"

Quinn just laughs. "You swear a lot more when you can't breathe, did you know that?"

Santana huffs. "How?"

Quinn shrugs. "I run a lot," she says. "It's the best way I've found to keep the weight off that doesn't include starving myself."

Santana looks away immediately, a sick feeling settling in her gut. She remembers her own hurtful words regarding Lucy's extra weight, and the guilt of it is threatening to drag her down.

"I'm sorry," Santana practically blurts out. "I mean - fuck - that came out wrong."

Quinn arches an eyebrow, and it's an action Santana has now come to associate with Quinn Fabray. "How was it supposed to come out?" she asks, and Santana suspects she's never really stood a chance with this girl.

"Better."

Quinn smiles gently. "Would you like another go at it?" she asks.

Santana flushes, though she doesn't really know why. "Umm, yes."

"Another time, maybe."

"Sure," Santana says.

Quinn pokes her in the bicep. "You take yourself too seriously, Santana," she says. "I recognise a conflicted soul when I see one. We're one and the same."

And, really, for the first time, Santana is certain of it.

It's impossible, Rachel realises, to hide her affection for Quinn when in such close quarters with Santana.

They're young and they're in love, and Rachel really likes to touch, because one of her love languages is Touch, and, well, her girlfriend is hot.

Dangerously so.

So, it's not a surprise when Santana asks the question of her just days after the three of them have fallen into a lovely summer routine.

Rachel thinks she's the one who gave them away because she remembers Santana giving her a curious look when Rachel automatically dropped into Quinn's lap, and then immediately slid off as if she'd been burned.

Which makes the question Santana asks almost expected.

"Are you two, um, together?"

Rachel spends a moment thinking hard about her response, and then shifts her gaze to Santana's face. From the expression she finds, she knows the question is being asked as a courtesy, because it's obvious Santana already knows the truth.

Still.

"Would you have a problem if we were?" Rachel asks.

"No."

The hastiness of her response piques Rachel's interest but she makes no comment on it, choosing rather to wait patiently.

"I mean, no, I wouldn't have a problem with it," Santana says carefully, her lips pressed together. "I don't," she assures Rachel, and then rolls her eyes at herself. "Has - has it been long?"

"Not really," she admits. "At least, officially. I've liked her for a long time, though."

Santana mulls that over. "You're both happy?"

Rachel sighs. "I don't know if I can ever go so far as to call Quinn 'happy,'" she says; "but we do have more good days than bad ones, and I suppose that must count for something."

Santana offers her a genuine smile, and then sobers slightly. "Aren't you scared?"

"Every second of every day," Rachel confesses. "I'm terrified. More for Quinn than for myself. Her family is less accepting than mine is." She shifts in her seat. "My dads know about us and, while I think her parents will be more... kind about their reaction - after what happened to her sister - Quinn doesn't want to risk it."

Santana just nods, feeling something terrifying twist in her gut.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says, blushing slightly. "I don't really have people to talk to about this, and you're the only one who even knows about Quinn's sister." She sighs. "I worry my dads are going to do something crazy in some misguided attempt to protect me if they find out just what we're actually dealing with, and I won't risk it. I won't risk Quinn, and I definitely won't risk Lucy."

Santana's guilt has never quite dissipated, and it seems to be getting worse with every day she gets closer to both Quinn and Rachel. She remembers that day more clearly recently, now that she's with Quinn more often than not.

Because this is Quinn she's getting to know, not Lucy, and sometimes that truth hurts her. Santana thinks she would have liked Lucy, had she given her the chance.

But, then again, Lucy probably wouldn't have liked Santana.

At all.

Because, if she's being honest, sometimes Santana doesn't even like herself.

Santana sighs. "Why haven't you told your fathers I used to bully the both of you?"

Rachel looks pensive for a moment, and then she smiles to ease some of the tension in Santana's body. "I don't really see the point," she says. "You're not that person anymore, are you?"

Santana can't meet her gaze. "Not right now, I'm not," she says, almost whispering. "I don't know how things are going to be when we get back to school."

Rachel just nods. "Then, telling them anything is moot, anyway," she says. "If things could go back to the way they were before, what does is matter, right?"

And, maybe it's the way Rachel can just sweep everything under the rug and, somehow, act as if their friendship has always been temporary that makes Santana's insides twist unpleasantly.

She's struck by how much she wants this to be permanent.

"Have you ever thought of joining the Cheerios?"

Santana asks the question, not sure what she's expecting, but still startles at the sound of Quinn's laugh. It's obviously not what she's expecting, but she can't say she's surprised by Quinn's reaction.

"I'm guessing that's a no, then," Santana says, frowning slightly as she works to catch her breath.

Quinn sips at her water. "I wanted to," she eventually says. "When we first moved here, I had this entire plan."

Santana waits in silence, realising this is one of those moments Rachel told her about when it comes to Quinn. She knows to pay attention.

"As Lucy, things were... bad, so I wanted to be... better," Quinn says, her eyes drifting to the side as she remembers. "I was going to lose the weight, get the braces off, change the glasses and, I know it sounds stupid, but I was even going to ask for a nose job."

Santana's eyes widen.

"I hated myself, Santana," she says. "I hated Lucy so much, and I was willing to do anything to escape her, because I didn't want to be at the bottom anymore. When my father was offered the opportunity to transfer, I started making all these plans, and one of those was to join the cheerleading squad like my sister."

Santana can barely breathe, because this is the first time Quinn has ever mentioned her sister.

"But, well, I guess, plans are just plans, right?"

All Santana can do is nod.

Quinn shrugs. "And, as hot as you all are, or whatever; most of you are really quite awful."

Santana can't exactly dispute that. She's one of them, is she not? Wait. Did Quinn just inadvertently call her hot? "Would you consider it now?" she asks, anyway.

"Maybe," Quinn says. "My sister seemed to enjoy it, and it'll probably help keep me active and in shape."

"So, you'll come to the tryouts at cheer camp?"

Quinn gives her a look. "If you can convince Rachel it's a good idea, why not?"

Santana groans. "Well, there goes that," she mutters.

Quinn smiles softly. "She said you two talked about... us."

"We did."

"And, you're okay?"

Santana nods. "I also promised her I wouldn't tell anyone, if you're worried about that," she says. "I know I wasn't always... nice to you - either of you - but, I promise, whatever happens when we start school; I won't tell a soul."

"Ah."

"What?"

"Rachel also mentioned that, well, things might change when school does start up again," she says. "She was very apathetic about it; as if she expected it."

Santana isn't sure how to respond to that, but it makes her feel awful.

"Is that why you want me to join the Cheerios?" Quinn asks; "so nothing has to change?"

She can't completely hide her guilty look.

Quinn's facial expression doesn't change, giving nothing away. "I understand social pressures, Santana," she says. "Lucy wasn't always strong enough to handle them, but Quinn is better at it. Maybe it's something you can learn, as well."

"From you?"

Quinn laughs. "I wouldn't dream of teaching you anything," she says; "but Rachel might."

"Absolutely not."

Quinn just rolls her eyes, and then winks at Santana - which gets the Latina's heart beating erratically - before addressing Rachel again. "But, think about it, Rach," she says; "it makes more sense to watch the scary movie first, and then the cartoon."

"Animation," Rachel pouts, folding her arms across her chest, which is an action that draws Quinn's gaze to her breasts.

Santana clears her throat, and Quinn's eyes snap upwards, her face flushing.

Rachel doesn't seem to notice.

Quinn breathes out. "The animation will make you feel better after the scary movie," she points out.

"I'm probably going to fall asleep before we even get to the animation," Rachel counters; "which means I'm going to have nightmares."

Quinn steps towards her, lowering her voice. "I'll protect you," she says.

"Don't try to woo me, Fabray."

"We'll snuggle," Quinn continues anyway. "Under the blanket. Now that San knows, we don't have to hide."

Rachel considers her offer for a moment, and then nods. "That sounds acceptable," she finally declares.

"Thank God," Santana exclaims, raising her arms in the air. "I thought I was going to have to dart one of you or something."

"Santana," Rachel huffs.

"Can we just watch a fucking movie already?"

Quinn just laughs as Rachel storms around the basement like an ineffective, little hurricane, setting out their snacks, putting in the chosen movie - Prom Night - and then throwing herself onto the couch.

Quinn settles in beside her, and then lays her arm along the back of the couch, inviting Rachel to lean against her. Which the brunette does immediately, snuggling into Quinn's side and sighing contently.

Santana stands awkwardly, having been tasked with switching off the lights. She knows where she fits in here - sort of - but it's the first time she's witnessing her new friends actually act like a couple.

Quinn glances up at her and smiles softly. "I have two sides," she says, somewhat coyly, as she pats the space on her other side.

Santana's heart skips a traitorous beat, but she recovers in time. "I'm not fucking snuggling with you," she grumbles, even as she moves to sit beside Quinn.

"Your loss," Rachel murmurs happily from her position.

Quinn just nods, and then covers Santana's legs with the blanket she and Rachel are sharing. "At least come into the cocoon of warmth, you stubborn ass."

Santana has another barb on the tip of her tongue, but it gets stuck somewhere when Quinn leans back, their arms coming to rest against each other. There's nothing abnormal about the position, but her heart is beating far too forcefully for it to be normal.

Somehow, Santana manages to focus on the movie, which is one of her favourites, even if the black chick is one of the first to die.

Typical.

Santana isn't sure how it happens but she ends up leaning against Quinn more heavily as the movie goes on. She's aware of Rachel's gasps and mumbled words from the other side of Quinn, the girl burying her face in the crook of Quinn's neck when the suspense on the screen is too much.

Santana is also aware of the fact her heart hasn't slowed since she sat. She reasons it must be the movie - it's designed to get the heart pumping, after all - but she knows better.

This is something else.

That becomes almost unbearable when Quinn drops her head onto Santana's shoulder. The Latina sucks in a short breath, and then holds it.

This isn't happening.

None of this is happening.

She can ignore it, the way she's being ignoring everything else.

Santana waits until the end of the movie to bring up the idea of the Cheerios to Rachel. The other girl is, as predicted, halfway to slumber, and Santana knows she'll be the most truthful like this.

"So, Berry, how would you feel if Q was a cheerleader?"

Neither Santana nor Quinn expects it when Rachel says, "Lonely."

Quinn's brow furrows.

Rachel hums tiredly. "What if she gets too popular and won't want to be friends with me anymore?" she asks, mumbling into Quinn's shirt.

Quinn isn't sure what to say to that; she's so shocked.

"She would never do that," Santana responds for her.

"Why not?" Rachel murmurs. "You're going to do it."

Santana wants to argue that it's different, because it is - Quinn loves Rachel, and her popularity won't ever change that - but Rachel's words feel like a punch to the gut.

It's true, though, and Santana feels awful and foolish.

Rachel puffs out a breath. "But Quinn would totally look hot in the uniform."

Santana stops herself from automatically agreeing out loud because, God, how would she even explain such a thing?

"I totally would," Quinn says, placing a kiss on the top of Rachel's head.

Santana feels that now-familiar pang in her chest. She clears her throat. "You know, Berry, you could save us all a lot of trouble if you just joined as well."

And, if Rachel was almost asleep a second ago, she's now caught in a vicious coughing fit, the reprimand sitting on the tip of her tongue.

Needless to say, the Latina finds it immensely entertaining.

So does Quinn.

It's almost too easy for Quinn to join the Squad.

All she really has to do is show up, because Sue Sylvester has been keeping a close eye on her, watching and waiting. Planning.

The other girls on the Squad also know her as the girl who repeatedly said no to Finn Hudson. There's something mysterious about her that nobody can quite figure out. It makes her almost untouchable, intriguing in the worst ways and... on-demand.

Quinn is generally quiet through the first days of cheer camp. She stays at Santana's side as she learns the ropes but, once she's clued in to the intricacies of Squad politics and the upcoming choreography, it's Santana who starts standing at her side.

The shift is subtle, but the other girls can sense it.

This Quinn Fabray is something completely different; something truly special.

"How do you do it?" Santana asks Quinn as they head back to Santana's house after a gruelling day of practice. Rachel is supposed to meet them for dinner with Santana's family, and the Latina is a little nervous about it.

She's not ashamed of her new friends; she's more ashamed of herself.

She still hasn't been able to apologise properly to either of them, and she can't be sure any of them has really been able to move past it the way they obviously need to.

"Do what?" Quinn asks, her gym bag slung over her shoulder.

"Command like that."

Quinn frowns. "Command?"

Santana shakes her head. "Shit," she mutters; "you don't even know you're doing it."

"Doing what?"

Santana doesn't respond, because this is the first time she figures out just how dangerous Quinn actually is. If the girl was ever to realise her power, the masses would probably be doomed.

As it is, though, it's just Santana who's going to burn in Hell.

She knows she shouldn't look, but she can't help it. The same way she finds her eyes drifting in the locker room, her eyes track Quinn as she gathers her things for her shower... and then starts to strip.

It's not the first time, but Santana is... struggling.

They're in Santana's bedroom, alone in the house before Santana's family gets back from their visit to the aquarium in Columbus, and Quinn has called dibs on the first shower, seeing as both girls left the school without bothering to return to the locker rooms.

So, Santana finds herself in a bit of a dilemma. She immediately excuses herself, mentioning something about her mother having asked her to take some meat out of the freezer to thaw in preparation for dinner.

Suddenly, she can't remember if she told her mother Rachel is a vegan.

Quinn just hums in response, and Santana practically bolts from the room. She feels like the worst person in the world, for a number of reasons.

She's well aware of Quinn's religious upbringing - it almost mirrors her own, with hers maybe having a bit more flare - so she reasons that liking girls isn't deemed a cardinal sin in Quinn's eyes.

She doesn't know if it's the same for her. She can't. Her parents, her brother and her sister. Fuck. Her Abuela.

Then, there's the girl.

Quinn.

Fuck. Again.

Of all the girls in the world. It isn't even that she's actually this terrifying, beautiful being, with secrets and issues and this gorgeous smile that's there and also not. It's -

Well, it's Rachel.

Santana feels the guilt twist in her chest.

No.

This isn't even an issue.

Santana is fine.

It's all in her head, anyway, and she knows just the thing to help her deal with all these conflicting thoughts.

She hasn't spoken to him all summer - she's been busy with Quinn, Rachel and the Cheerios - but, when she calls, Noah Puckerman answers.

It's Rachel who brings it up to Quinn, the two of them curled up on Rachel's bed as the brunette reads out loud for them both. She's reading one of Quinn's favourite novels, Alice in Wonderland, and Quinn is as content as can be.

"What?" Quinn asks, having missed some of Rachel's words, lost in her own head.

"Santana," Rachel says, rolling over to look at Quinn. "Has she seemed... off to you?"

Quinn gives it a bit of thought. "Come to think of it, yes," she says. "She wasn't even my partner at practice today."

Rachel frowns. "Do you think it's because of what happened at dinner the other night?"

Quinn winces at the memory. The night, itself, started out well enough. Quinn and Rachel are polite to a fault, well-mannered and complimentary, so Santana's family took to them immediately, all of them suitably charmed.

Then, well, the questions started.

Rachel didn't mean for it to happen, but, somehow, Santana's past indiscretions were brought up, and she remembers the disapproving looks her parents sent the Latina.

Then, of course, there was the fact that Santana didn't warn Rachel not to mention her two gay fathers. Santana's little brother, Julio, asked why she had two of them and, before Rachel could answer, Santana's mother, Maribel, said, "It doesn't, and should never, concern you, Mija. Those aren't choices we make in this family."

Needless to say, the evening turned awkward very quickly.

"Maybe," Quinn offers, even though she's not entirely sure. It feels like something else, but she also isn't sure mentioning that to Rachel will help. She thinks she's going to have to talk to Santana about it alone.

Tomorrow.

Or, today.

Rachel abandons her reading to press kisses to the column of Quinn's throat, smiling at the feel of the blonde's racing pulse under her lips. Quinn's fingers are trailing over the skin of her back, and Rachel can't imagine her life getting any better than this.

Their mouths have just met for a searing kiss when Quinn's phone starts to ring. Both of them groan for reasons other than pleasure, and then Quinn is stretching to reach for the offending device on Rachel's nightstand.

She frowns at the Caller ID. "It's San," she says, shifting into an upright position when Rachel does as well.

"I thought she said she was busy tonight," Rachel says, recalling the Latina's excuse of a party being thrown at Noah Puckerman's house.

Quinn just shrugs as she answers the phone, immediately wincing at the volume coming through the speaker. "Hello," she says, holding the phone between herself and Rachel.

"Quinn?"

For a moment, neither girl recognises the voice, but then Rachel touches Quinn's forearm as she mouths, "Noah."

Quinn nods, and then clears her throat. "Where's Santana?" she asks.

There's a beat, and then the boy says, "She's here."

Quinn isn't sure what to say.

"She's - she's crying," he says.

Quinn immediately tenses, and Rachel is already getting to her feet, searching for their shoes. "What happened?" she asks, and her tone is icy.

Even through the phone, Noah flinches. "Everything was fine," he starts. "We were making out, and she was into it, I swear. She's the one who suggested we come upstairs, and I said yes. I mean, of course I was going to say yes; she's smoking hot."

Rachel lets out a squeak as she trips over Quinn's abandoned cardigan on the floor.

Noah doesn't notice. "So, we were just here, and I got her into bed, and she was into it. She was, I swear." He pauses. "We started taking off our clothes, and I was - we were - she wanted it, she really did."

Quinn clenches her jaw. "What happened?"

"I was, uh, inside," he starts awkwardly; "and she started making these sounds, and I thought, you know, she was enjoying it, but then she just started freaking out."

Quinn can't bring herself to move.

"She started screaming, and then crying, and then she kept saying no over and over again, and then I stopped, and she started hyperventilating or something, and now she's locked herself in the bathroom and I don't know what to do."

Quinn thinks for a moment, and then looks at Rachel. She mutes the phone as she asks, "Do you think one of your fathers can drive us?"

Rachel is already nodding, as she flies out of the room.

Quinn slips her feet off the bed and returns her attention to Noah, even as she simultaneously puts on her shoes. "Text me the address," she says; "I'm coming to get her." And then she hangs up, and heads downstairs to find Rachel and her father, LeRoy, already waiting.

The drive is silent. Rachel doesn't even put on any music. She just sits up front with her stoic father and glances nervously at her blonde girlfriend from time to time.

Quinn looks very calm, which is worrying for Rachel. There's always been an intensity about her, but this is different. This is her protective side rising to the surface, and Rachel knows how fierce she can be. It's a little terrifying, but also extremely attractive.

When LeRoy pulls up in front of a booming house, Quinn very calmly says, "Wait here," to them both, and then climbs out.

Rachel doesn't dare move as she watches Quinn disappear into the house, blonde hair lingering in her mind's eye.

She's suddenly terrified of the Quinn Fabray who's going to emerge.

They don't immediately talk about it.

Rachel finds out from a sober, remorseful Santana the next morning that Quinn came storming in, kicked Noah hard between the legs, and then practically swept her out of the house - wrapping protective arms around her - like some kind of knight in shining armour.

Who is missing in action.

Rachel woke to an empty bed, Quinn's belongings gone with her, and now Rachel and Santana are left to ponder over the events of the previous evening.

Thankfully, Rachel's fathers allowed the inebriated and hysterical girl to stay over, and Rachel set up a bed for her on the floor of her bedroom. She couldn't stand the thought of Santana being in the guest room, particularly after such a traumatic event.

The entire night, Quinn was tense at her side, and Rachel could tell she was fighting desperately not to run.

She did, eventually.

"I'm sorry," Santana says over her cereal she can't bring herself to eat, the two of them alone in the Berry kitchen.

Rachel just sighs. "We should talk about it," she says.

"Can we not, and just say we did?"

Rachel glares at her, and then lets out a tired sigh. "You slept with Noah."

Santana winces; from the truth of that statement or from her hangover, who knows? "I - I did," she says. "I wanted to. I needed to."

Rachel frowns. "Were you feeling pressured?"

Santana breathes out slowly, unable to say that she was pressuring herself... to like it. She needed to know for sure, and now she does.

Before either of them knows it, Santana bursts into tears, and Rachel's eyes widen in alarm. She jumps to her feet immediately and rounds the table to hug the other girl tightly.

"It's okay," Rachel tries to soothe, even though she has no idea what's going on. "I promise, it's going to be okay."

Santana can't be sure she can bring herself to believe the words.

'The Incident,' as Rachel has come to call it, changes something.

In Quinn.

In Santana.

In all of them.

The Quinn Rachel knows and loves disappears for a few days, replacing her with a quiet, thoughtful, sombre version. Rachel isn't unused to the different Quinns on offer, but they've gone nearly an entire summer without Quinn retreating this far into herself, and she misses her girlfriend.

Santana blames herself when Rachel mentions it to her, and Rachel is quick to shut that down.

"It's not your fault," she says. "This kind of thing just happens. She'll work through it, seeking us out if she needs us. It's how it works."

Santana blinks. "How do you do it?"

Rachel sighs. "I try not to take it too personally," she says. "I know it's to do with her, and not me. I just have to be here when she reaches out, and I have to accept that I might not always be what she needs."

"Because, sometimes, she needs the silence?"

"I can't tell if that's a dig at my tendency to talk too much or not?"

Santana just smiles a little sadly at her. "She's lucky to have you," she says softly.

Rachel frowns slightly at Santana's tone, but still says, "Make sure to let her know."

"Would you still love me if I were on antidepressants?"

The question catches Rachel so off guard that she drops the entire stack of sheet music in her hands.

Quinn is sitting on Rachel's bed, legs crossed as she searches through the brunette's laptop for a suitable movie for them to watch. She just sits, innocently waiting for Rachel to speak.

"Quinn," Rachel finally says, not even bothering to pick up her music sheets, as she moves towards Quinn. She sits opposite her and immediately reaches for her hands. "What's going on?"

"My - my therapist mentioned it today," Quinn explains. "She wants to know how I would feel trying out an antidepressant, and I want to know how you would feel."

Rachel audibly swallows. "You're fifteen years old," she says.

Quinn drops her gaze. "I don't think age means anything when it comes to depression, Rachel," she says. "Or, I guess, sexuality."

Rachel takes a deep breath, and then releases it slowly. "I just want you healthy and happy, Quinn," she says. "I want you here. So, if the healthcare professional with the degree and expertise thinks medication will benefit you, then we'll work with it."

"It - it won't bother you?"

"Why would it bother me?"

"You'd really be dating a basket case," she says.

Rachel sighs. "Aren't you dating one, as well?"

Quinn manages a smile. "I'm sorry I can't just be… better," she says. "I'm trying, though. I really am."

"I know, baby," Rachel says, cupping Quinn's cheek with her palm. "We both know it's not something that can just be fixed. You said it yourself, didn't you? This thing, it's a disease, and this is just another way for it to be treated. The same way people have to take other medications for diabetes or for high blood pressure, you can take something for - "

"My thoughts on my own mortality."

Rachel sucks in a breath. "I love you," she says. "I'm always going to love you, through all the struggles, okay? If I have to date a basket case, then I'm glad it's you."

Quinn just laughs, and then seems to relax. "I still have to talk to my parents about it," she reveals; "but I think I'm willing to try it. For all we know, it could really help." She turns her head slightly, and kisses Rachel's palm. "Come on, we're watching The Lion King."

Rachel's eyes light up. "We are?"

Quinn just nods, a small smile on her face, and Rachel knows she's a little closer to getting her girlfriend back.

Rachel knows Quinn is back to as settled as she possibly can be when said girl comes barrelling into Rachel's room with Santana following behind her after Cheerios practice and declares, "I'm king of the world!"

Rachel is, as expected, utterly confused, and she looks to Santana for an explanation.

"Don't look at me," she says; "she's been like this all day."

"Why?"

"Well, Berry, your girl here just climbed up a level on the Cheerio pyramid."

Rachel looks at Quinn, frowning. "I don't know what that means."

Quinn throws herself onto the bed beside Rachel, disrupting the brunette's work. "It means I'm king of the world," she practically sings.

"Quinn!" Rachel reprimands, trying to save her music sheets from ending up on the floor - again.

Quinn just grins at her, and then leans in for a kiss that Rachel is all too willing to give. They're usually more reserved around Santana, limiting themselves to hugs and cuddles. They've never really kissed in front of her - as brief as it is - and Santana feels everything she's trying to hold onto begin to unravel.

She's been able to ignore what the incident with Noah means for her, choosing rather to focus on cheerleading and trying to get Quinn back from whatever edge she drifted to.

But, now, Santana is going to have to acknowledge that the something she's been ignoring is there, just below the surface.

She thinks it's funny, actually, the karmic justice of it all.

Of course, the Universe sent her this with which to deal. As if she wasn't dealing with enough. The girl she likes has to be Quinn Fabray. She could probably deal with one of those things at a time, but both?

This is going to be the test of all tests.

She's bound to fail, because isn't she already?

"Are we still going to be friends when we start school?"

Santana almost expects the question, but it still catches her off guard. She chokes a little on the smoothie the three of them spent a half hour making before they descended on the Berry basement, and eyes Rachel warily.

"I mean, I'd like to be prepared," Rachel says, sounding entirely too calm, even as she sits curled up against Quinn's side on the couch. "Because, I really wasn't prepared for when Noah threw that first slushy at me, after we'd just been laughing together at Temple."

Quinn tightens her grip around the girl's shoulders and absently presses a kiss to the top of her head.

Santana tries not to watch, but she fails. Everything that's been happening in her life can be traced back to that day in October when she was... bored, and decided that the blonde girl fidgeting in her seat was going to be her next target.

Well, Universe, you clearly got the last say, Santana thinks bitterly.

"San?" Quinn prompts when the silence goes on too long, her one eyebrow rising in question.

Santana clears her throat. "We're good, Berry."

Rachel looks slightly disbelieving as she straightens. "Are you sure?" she asks. "Because, I don't think I could handle it if you say one thing, and then everything changes when we arrive at McKinley."

Santana swallows audibly. "I mean it, Berry," she says. Then, sighing, she adds, "I mean it, Rachel."

Rachel waits a beat before a beaming smile spreads across her face. She does a little dance in her seat, and then pats the space beside her. "Come sit here," she says happily. "We have so much to discuss."

Santana suddenly looks wary. "We do?" she asks, glancing at Quinn.

The blonde just shrugs, and then she winks.

Oh, yeah, Santana is so screwed.