Title: Evolution

Author: Lucy

Pairing: Rachel/Quinn

Rating: PG for swears, nothing else

I love hearing when people like my stories, but I also like hearing what people like about them specifically :) and feedback is love, so love me, okay?

Part Thirteen
It was interesting to Quinn how a drive that usually took seven minutes, tops, felt like it took her about an hour. She freely admitted to herself that she missed Rachel, and that Rachel being away sick was a rare enough occurrence that Quinn felt worried about her.

Standing outside the Berry house, she knocked softly, and the door was answered by Leroy Berry. Quinn wasn't surprised that he didn't exactly look thrilled to see her. She might have come over a couple of times and started to redeem herself, her behavior and renewed torment of Rachel over the past few weeks wouldn't have earned her many brownie points, as it were. But she smiled nervously at the man, and told him she was there to give Rachel her homework. One lie could hardly make her look worse than she already did, right?

He stood back, let her in, and pointed her up the stairs and to the right. She didn't miss the fact that he was regarding her seriously as she walked slowly in the direction of Rachel's room.

It wasn't until she was standing outside Rachel's door (it wasn't pink, thank goodness, but it did have a big gold star with the singer's name in glittery letters) that Quinn realized she'd never been in Rachel's room. Leroy was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, and perhaps sensing her hesitation, thawed slightly and gave her an encouraging smile. Quinn took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Rachel didn't answer, but Quinn opened the door anyway at Leroy's nod. She could see before she even entered the room that Rachel was fast asleep, burrowed in the blankets with only her head sticking out, and Quinn smiled, the tingles back in her stomach. She took a few steps in, shut the door behind her, and looked around.

She and the other Cheerios had often laughingly speculated on what Rachel's room might look like. They'd suggested that she used a lot of pink, that she probably had statues of Barbra Streisand littered around the place and stars all over the walls... the reality of Rachel Berry's room was a lot different than anyone had expected. The walls were a soft yellow, the decoration tasteful and minimal, and apart from the elliptical in the corner there wasn't really much that made it stand out from an average teenager's bedroom.

Rachel being Rachel, there was a set of shelves displaying her various trophies and awards, and a handful of framed photographs, and Quinn padded quietly over to look, casting a quick glance at the bed to make sure Rachel was still sleeping. The collection was impressive - she forgot sometimes that as much as they made fun of her, Rachel was seriously talented. Quinn turned her attention to the photos.

Among the photos of Rachel with her various clubs and groups was a candid shot of the original six kids of Glee club, which Quinn picked up to take a closer look at. Obviously taken by Mr. Schuester, it was of the six of them just relaxing. Quinn's eyes flickered over Kurt, Mercedes and Tina huddled together with their cell phones out, texting and laughing, Finn standing at the piano, singing with his eyes closed, and Rachel sitting with Artie. Artie had clearly said something funny, because Rachel was laughing, her mouth curved in a grin and her eyes shining, and Quinn felt a tug in her stomach. She put the photo back carefully on the shelf and walked over to the bed.

What on earth she thought she was doing, she had no idea, but she looked down at Rachel again and couldn't help the smile. She bent to tuck a lock of hair behind Rachel's ear, which reminded her just how soft Rachel's hair was, which of course reminded her of her time spent helping Rachel to clean slushy out of her hair. The tug in her stomach got stronger and without thinking too much, she bent a little further and pressed her lips gently to Rachel's forehead.

Rachel didn't stir, and Quinn straightened up and crept back out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Part Fourteen
Quinn came back downstairs to find Leroy Berry sitting at the table with two cups of coffee. Wordlessly, he offered one to her, and wordlessly she accepted, sitting down at the table with him. She didn't look him in the eye, but she knew he was regarding her seriously, and when he offered her something to eat, she accepted quietly and politely, still sitting at the table, hands clasped around her coffee cup.

Leroy stood and moved to assemble grilled cheese sandwiches, and his back was to her when he spoke.

"Rachel's other father and I have heard a lot about you over the years, Quinn." His tone was mild, non accusatory, but Quinn found herself wincing anyway. She knew her behavior toward Rachel had been inexcusable, and she hated the way she had behaved. She had no idea how to express that to Rachel's father, though, without it looking scripted, trite and dishonest. Leroy didn't turn around, choosing to concentrate on slicing cheese as he continued to speak. It made it easier for Quinn to listen, lessening the urge she felt to stand and run from this, most uncomfortable of conversations.

"You know," Leroy went on in the same mild, conversational tone, "Rachel doesn't know this, but her father and I have been listening to her cry herself to sleep almost every night since she started high school. It's not something we've enjoyed hearing."

Quinn still didn't speak, but slid down further in her seat, her cheeks red. She knew! She knew she'd been a total shit to Rachel. But she supposed that sitting through this was the beginning of atonement.

"We didn't bring Rachel up to be weak, Quinn. We taught her to be strong, not to care about bullies and horrible narrow minded people, because Whoever you believe is up there, they will deal with the bad things. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I mean... Well, I'm sorry, I... no?" Quinn spluttered. She thought she had understood what Leroy was saying, until his last sentence. The conversation had taken a turn for the unexpected.

Finally, Leroy turned, holding two plates with grilled cheese sandwiches on them. "I'm saying, for Rachel to get so worked up over you and the things you did to her, you can't have just been your average bully. She obviously cares more about you and the things you do." He cut her off before she could speak. "You're obviously special enough, mean enough to her, that she cares very deeply about the hurt you've caused. Cares deeply enough to cry over you every night."

Quinn thought that was a bit much. She was hardly the only person who had persecuted Rachel over the years. What was to say that it wasn't Santana Rachel was crying over every night? But even as she formed the words to put them to Leroy, she closed her mouth again. She, Quinn, was also the only person who had spent a month being nice to Rachel, gaining trust she didn't deserve, only to turn on her and be horrible again. Quinn didn't speak, because whatever Leroy was about to say, Quinn knew she deserved every harsh word of the truth.

But chastising Quinn wasn't what he had set out to do. He looked her in the eye, and kept talking, on a seemingly unrelated topic. "We also taught Rachel about love, Quinn. When she was a little girl, we spent a considerable amount of time making sure she knew that love is love is love, no matter who it is, what form it takes, or what gender the body it lives in. Rachel's father and I are very much in love, and that's a beautiful thing. We taught Rachel that no matter who she falls in love with, be it a man or a woman, we would never be disappointed in her, that we would always love her, and that love is never wrong." He looked Quinn in the eye as he said this last, and Quinn felt the prickling of tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away quickly.

"But God-" she began.

"Created us, His children, and wants us to be happy," Leroy cut her off, sensing exactly what her objection to his words had been. "Is the seminal bastion of love, and as such is hardly likely to begrudge us that love, wherever we may find it. Created me, knows of my love for Hiram, and loves me no less. Created you, Quinn. Knows you. Loves you."

He hadn't set out to make this conversation about God, but if that was the only way to get through to this girl, then he would take it. Nothing he said was untrue, and he could tell by the look on Quinn's face that he had hit home with his message.

Quinn stood on shaky legs, leaving her untouched sandwich on the table. "I have to go," she stammered, her fight or flight response finally kicking in and demanding that she run.

"We'll be seeing you," said Leroy quietly as the blond girl fled.

Out in the car, Quinn let herself cry. She couldn't listen. She couldn't take in Leroy's words. It was too much, too different, too wrong to her. Her feelings for Rachel couldn't be love. She couldn't deal with it.

But the seeds of knowledge had been planted...

Part Fifteen
After sitting in her car and crying for a few minutes, Quinn wiped her eyes and drove off. She didn't understand why things had to be so hard, why this had to happen to her now, at what was the worst possible time. Why couldn't she have waited until college to question her sexuality? Why did Rachel have to be so intriguing? And why had she been such a shit to Rachel, making it somehow all the more important that she, Quinn, make it up to the girl?

What Quinn needed more than anything was a return to normalcy. She pulled out her cellphone and called Santana.

"Slumber party tonight?" she said, hating how small and desperate her voice sounded. And perhaps Santana picked up on it, because she agreed quickly, passing the message on to Brittany who was of course right by her side. Quinn couldn't remember a time when this hadn't been the case, since the day they met in sixth grade.

When she got home her mother was well into her afternoon drinks. When Quinn told her about Santana and Brittany sleeping over, she was met with a grunt of acknowledgment and the news that her father was working late again.

Quinn's bed was too small to fit the three of them comfortably, so for sleepovers the den was the venue of choice. Because it had a couple of pull out couches, it could fit up to four or five Cheerios at a pinch, and Quinn had taken advantage of this a number of times. As the captain, it was her duty to promote goodwill amongst the team members, was it not?

If Santana noticed anything off about Quinn's behavior when she and Brittany arrived, half an hour later, she didn't say anything, but Quinn saw Brittany eye her curiously a couple of times. They spent a slightly strained evening talking about movies, music and other non-threatening topics, and went to bed pretty early for a slumber party.

Quinn lay awake for a long time after the three of them had stopped talking. She had a lot on her mind, after her talk with Leroy Berry that afternoon, and thinking about what his words had meant for her. Of course, a big part of why she was so reluctant to face up to what she was feeling was lying on a pull out couch five feet away – Santana had seemed to against the idea of her being "gay for Rachel" even if she had only been taunting Quinn at the time.

Later, much later when the other two had been quiet and still for a long time, Quinn was just beginning to doze off when she was brought back to consciousness by a rustling. Keeping her eyes closed, she listened a little, thinking it was just one or the other of them turning over, and her ears were met with hushed whispers. She couldn't hear every word, but she heard enough.

"...asleep?"

"Yeah... quiet... get caught."

Quinn opened her eyes just in time to see Brittany rise up onto her elbows, sliding her upper body on top of Santana's, and bring their lips together.

Though her cheeks were so red they threatened to burst into flame, Quinn couldn't take her eyes off the sight in front of her. For at least a couple of long minutes, she watched as Brittany and Santana traded long, languid kisses. And it definitely wasn't the first time, by the look of things.

As Quinn watched the scene, she found herself taking in the details slowly. First, and most obviously, the sight of the two cheerleaders kissing. Objectively Quinn observed what a beautiful contrast they made, Santana's dark to Brittany's light, their very skin and hair mirroring their natures. Their lips moved together in a dance even more practiced than a Cheerio routine, and Quinn caught glimpses of their tongues tangling.

The sounds made her blush even harder, if that were possible. The press of lips, the rustle of bedding, Brittany's little moans of contentment... and the absolutely unexpected high pitched whimper Santana let out when Brittany was sucking on her neck. She begged, literally begged Brittany to do it again, and Quinn saw the grin on the blond's face as she teased Santana.

Quinn would never have expected Brittany to be the dominant personality in this duo. Of course, up until now she wouldn't have expected Brittany and Santana to be in the relationship they obviously were in.

For a a tiny, weak moment, Quinn allowed herself to imagine what it would be like if it were her and Rachel, not Brittany and Santana, lying on a couch kissing. In an instant, the heat from her cheeks rushed between her legs and she stifled a moan, vowing never to think about that again (not when she had company, anyway).

Her moan was like cold water on the two across the room and they parted, lying back down quietly. Quinn could see Santana's hand sneak out and take Brittany's. Could see them smile at each other with expressions that couldn't be called anything other than loving. And for the first time since she'd began inadvertently witnessing this scene, Quinn began to feel angry.

Part Sixteen
In the morning, Quinn took her chance to confront Santana. She didn't want to upset Brittany, the blond girl was sweetness and light personified, and though she might not have had the best academic standing, her sense for people was unparalleled. So Quinn held on to her anger, not letting Brittany figure anything out, until she was safely out of the way in the shower. Then she turned on Santana.

"You hypocritical bitch," she snarled, taking Santana completely by surprise.

"What are you talking about, Q?" Santana asked, having the good grace to look nervous, though she tried to hide it.

"You had the gall to bitch at me about 'being gay for Rachel', as you so eloquently put it, as if there were something wrong with it! And all this time you and Brittany... what the hell are you and Brittany doing anyway?"

Closing her eyes briefly, Santana took a deep breath. "Q, I..."

But Quinn wasn't done yet. "I thought we were friends, San. Why would you make me feel so damn bad about myself for something like this, when all along you were doing the exact same thing? Why is it okay for you, but not okay for me?"

Finally, Santana took a step forward and covered Quinn's mouth with her hand. "Q, listen to me. I don't care if you wanna go gay, just not. With. Her."

Sensing that she had shut Quinn up sufficiently for her to continue, she went on. "She's a mouth breathing, bottom dwelling, painfully obnoxious loser, and while your stock has sufficient value to maintain through a sexuality scandal, I honestly don't know if you could come back from an affair with Berry."

Quinn scowled. "You know she's really not that bad, San. She's one of the nicest, kindest, most forgiving people I've ever met. We've done nothing but treat her like shit for years -"

"-because she deserves it-"

"No she doesn't!" Quinn shouted, and finally, finally she found the strength within her to stand up for this, most important moment she could ever remember. "She doesn't! She never did! She's a little intense, sure, and she talks a lot, but God, Santana. She got picked to be the scapegoat. How would it be if you'd been picked, for no reason other than you were standing in the wrong place on the first day of school?"

Santana snorted, as if to say she wouldn't care.

"What if it had been Brittany?" Quinn asked softly, and watched the color drain from Santana's face.

"I don't like Berry, Q." But Santana had nothing else. The wind had been well and truly taken out of her sails.

"You don't have to like her. You just have to stop being such a bitch to her."

The two sat in silence, regarding each other for a long moment.

"So you're really hot for Berry?" Santana asked finally.

Quinn blushed, but kept her gaze locked on Santana as she answered. "I wouldn't say it in quite those words, but there's... I think there's something. You and Brittany, huh?"

"I love her, Q." The look on Santana's face said it all.

"Does... does she know? I mean, have you guys said it?" Quinn asked curiously.

Santana shook her head, bottom lip between her teeth. Thankfully, they were saved from any further deep and meaningful conversation by Brittany bounding down the stairs, freshly washed and dressed in a skirt and tank top. One eye on Quinn, Santana held her arms out for Brittany, who went to her willingly.

"Quinn knows about us," Santana told her quietly, and Brittany smiled widely.

"Does this mean I don't have to wait for Quinn to be asleep before I can kiss you now?" she asked Santana brightly, and Quinn laughed and nodded, answering for Santana.

"Sure, go for your life," she said, and Brittany bent slightly and kissed Santana on the cheek, then turned back to Quinn.

"And does this mean you're going to talk to Rachel soon?" she asked in her uncannily perceptive way.

Indeed. Quinn didn't answer then, didn't know what it was she was going to do. But that afternoon, after Santana and Brittany had gone home, Quinn sat on her bed, cellphone in hand, and typed out a message to Rachel.

CAN I COME OVER?

Part Seventeen
YEAH OKAY

The drive to Rachel's house was just as tense as the drive the day before had been. Only this time, Quinn knew, Rachel would be awake, and talking would happen. She wouldn't be able to just snoop through Rachel's photographs, kiss her forehead, and sneak back out. This was actually happening.

Between Santana and Brittany leaving her house, and sending Rachel the message, Quinn had had quite a bit of time to think. Mostly, after she'd had the initial panic about finally admitting to someone (and herself) that she felt something for Rachel, her thoughts had revolved around the kisses she had witnessed between Brittany and Santana, and how she wanted to have that with Rachel.

How liberating, she pondered, to be able to admit that she wanted that with Rachel.

She pulled up outside the house, entered without knocking, waved to Hiram and Leroy, and went up to Rachel's room.

She paused outside the door, steeling herself.

She knocked.

"Come in," Rachel called, and on suddenly unsteady knees, Quinn entered. She made her way to the bed, and quickly sat down before her knocking knees could give away how nervous she was.

"I want to talk to you," she said quietly, and Rachel nodded. "I, um..."

She had no idea how she was supposed to bring this up. What was she supposed to say? "Oh hey, I've been treating you like shit again, but it turns out I want to make out with you"? She'd get laughed out of the room, and she'd be lucky if she was allowed back in the house.

"Rachel, I..." she tried again. "I'm sorry."

Rachel laughed, soft and sarcastic. "You're sorry. Again." Inside, she was quietly cheering that Quinn was back in her house. Honestly, she'd missed the blond, missed their burgeoning friendship, and her feelings hadn't changed. She was hurt, and disappointed that Quinn had seemed to regress, but hope springs eternal. That didn't mean she was going to hand Quinn forgiveness on a silver platter again, like she basically had the first time around.

"Yeah, I am," Quinn said sincerely. "I got scared, I..." This wasn't going the way she had imagined it going. In her head, she'd walked in the door, apologized, declared her feelings and they'd ended up making out for the rest of the afternoon. One look at Rachel's hurt face told her that things weren't going to play out that way at all.

"Listen, Rachel... I need to be honest."

"You can't be friends with me because it's bad for your image, I get it. Why did you even come here?" Rachel made sure her voice sounded angry and upset, but on the inside it was a different matter.

"No!" Quinn stopped her. "Rachel, I... I like you."

"You like me?" Rachel asked, honestly incredulous. "Friends don't treat friends the way you did, Quinn. If you like me, like you say you do, you've got a funny way of showing it!"

Hell if this wasn't so damn much easier in the movies. "No, you idiot, I like you!" she snapped. "I have feelings for you, I..." she trailed off. Oh, no. Oh, no. She hadn't planned to say that so soon, hadn't planned on letting that out at quite this juncture, and certainly not in that manner...

And Rachel had stopped talking, was just looking at her with an expression that Quinn couldn't read. Quinn didn't know what else to do, she leaned in to kiss Rachel.

Rachel leaned back, pulling away so fast she almost fell off the bed. "What the hell, Quinn?" she exclaimed. "This... you can't just walk in here and try to kiss me after the way you've treated me!"

Rachel wished so damn badly that she could just give in to this, give in to Quinn, kiss her and have everything else fall into place. But Quinn had behaved really badly, and for her to just roll over and kiss Quinn was to send the message that it was okay to behave like a bitch when things got hard, when she got scared.

"You like me?" Rachel asked. "You hurt me, Quinn. I thought we were friends. You were so nice, for all you were such a bitch before. And I... I can't do this, Quinn. For all I know Santana's standing outside the room taping everything I say, and Brittany's somewhere in the room with a video camera, and it's going to be all over the school that I told you I like you back."

"You... you like me back?" Quinn said, feeling hopeful for the first time since Rachel had opened her mouth.

"Yeah," Rachel said softly.

"Well, if I like you, and you like me..." Quinn trailed off, leaning in again. Rachel pulled away again.

"It's not enough, Quinn."

Rachel stood. "It's just... it's not enough. I think you should go."

Quinn left quietly and drove home, not looking back. If she had, she would have seen the regret on Rachel's face. She let herself in her house, walked up to her room, and closed the door behind her. Reaching up, she took down the picture of Jesus and put it face down in the drawer with her bible. Then she let herself cry.

Part Eighteen
Knowing Rachel the way she did, Quinn knew that it would take some sort of grand gesture to get Rachel to come around. The problem was, what sort of grand gesture? She thought of flowers, of candy, but she doubted that those things would work. Rachel was a traditional girl, but she was also a big fan of the grandiose, the magical, the musical.

It was in Spanish class when it came to Quinn in a flash of inspiration. She turned in her seat, to face Rachel who was sitting diagonally behind her, to her right, and opened her mouth.

"Oh yeah, I'll tell you something," Quinn sang softly, her heart beating faster as Rachel looked up from her worksheet, fixing her eyes on Quinn.

"I think you'll understand
When I say that something
I wanna hold your hand..."

Santana and Brittany popped up from nowhere, joining her on the chorus.

"I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand."

And now suddenly the whole class was in on it, humming and swaying in the background – even Mr. Schuester was beating out a rhythm on his desk – and Quinn went for it in earnest.

"Oh please, say to me
You'll let me be your... girl" Quinn winked at Rachel, as she changed the words to the song slightly. Rachel seemed into it, looking excited and flattered as Quinn serenaded her in front of the entire class. If she thought it was odd that the entire class was apparently in on it, and knew the words, harmonies and choreography seemingly spontaneously, she didn't let on.

"And please, say to me
You'll let me hold your hand
Now let me hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand."

Quinn really let herself go, getting out of her seat and using it as a stepping stool to get up on her desk, singing down to a besotted looking Rachel.

"And when I touch you I feel happy inside
It's such a feeling that my love I can't hide
I can't hide
I can't hide..."

Mike and Matt were dancing, dancing in the aisles, really working it. Quinn wondered idly why all school couldn't be this way, musical, spontaneous, bright, colorful and entertaining. Going for what would be her finale, she took a deep breath and launched into the end of her song.

"Yeah you, got that something
I think you'll understand
When I say that something
I wanna hold your hand...
I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand."

Quinn jumped down off the desk and knelt at Rachel's feet, looking up at her hopefully. As the rest of the class got back into their seats and resumed their worksheets as if nothing had happened, and Mr. Schuester similarly turned back to the blackboard, Quinn looked deep into Rachel's eyes and smiled. "I wanna hold your hand, Rachel," she said softly.

"Oh, wow," Rachel began. "Quinn..."

"Quinn? Quinn?" Rachel's voice changed until it was altogether more manly than Rachel could ever hope to sound, and Quinn opened her eyes to find Mr. Schuester standing over her, looking like he couldn't decide if he was worried or angry. "Quinn? Are you okay?"

Shaking her head to clear the remnants of her dream out of it, Quinn nodded. "I'm fine, Mr. Schue," she reassured him. She couldn't resist a glance back at Rachel – the brunette was pretending to be busily filling in her worksheet, but Quinn caught her sneaking a look at what was going on.

The whole song and dance routine had been a stupid fantasy, a daydream, and Quinn was back to square one as far as figuring out what to do. The bell rang and the class filed quietly out. Quinn hung back, let most of the other kids go in front of her, thinking hard about the dream she'd just had and about what she was going to do.

As she exited the classroom, she spotted Rachel walking in front of her and made up her mind. She had no plan per se, just a need for Rachel to understand how far she'd come. She quickened her step and caught up to Rachel, falling into step with her.

"Hey," she said quietly. Rachel's expression was unreadable.

"Quinn," she greeted calmly. "Can I help you?"

Quinn didn't say anything. She didn't have to. In the hallway, in full view of the majority of the student body, Quinn Fabray slipped her hand into Rachel Berry's, and laced their fingers together.

Rachel's face lit up in pleasure, disbelief, and something approaching awe, though she kept her eyes on her shoes.

Quinn took a deep breath, ignoring the stares and gasps of the other students, and squeezed Rachel's hand. This was it. The cat was out of the bag now. There wouldn't be any going back from a gesture like this, not for Quinn. But she didn't care, finally she didn't care. Rachel's hand in hers was soft, warm, and sent those tingles she'd been craving up her arm and right through her body and God, it felt good.

And when she felt Rachel's hand squeeze back, she couldn't stop her face from breaking out in a blinding grin.

FIN