Title: Kiss and Tell (Loose Lips Sink Ships)
Author: texaswatermelon
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Quinn/Shelby, eventual Quinn/Brittany, eventual Rachel/Santana
Rating: R, for language and possible adult situations
Summary: Most people in Vocal Adrenaline tend to feel one of two ways about Shelby Corcoran: they either loathe her with all the fire of a thousand of Carmel High's stage lights, or they possess some amount of sickening admiration for her. Quinn is really a mix of these two extremes.
Disclaimer: Glee is property of Ryan Murphy Television and 20th Century Fox. All characters, places, and recognizable names herein have been borrowed for the use of this fanfiction. Title from "XO" by Fall Out Boy. This story is a work of fiction and is in no way affiliated with the aforementioned groups. No infringement intended.
A/N: AU Quinn has always gone to Carmel school district, so none of her storyline from Glee applies. This takes place during the same year as season 1 of Glee, so just assume spoilers for all episodes. On the WMHS side of things, there will be an OC who will replace Quinn and take over her whole plot. Assume that everything follows cannon over there unless otherwise mentioned in the story. As far as Vocal Adrenalin goes, I'll be mentioning some real characters and some OC characters, so don't get confused there. If anything is unclear, just ask and I'll try my best to Windex that shit. Unbeta'd; all mistakes are my own.
Warnings: This story deals with issues of alcoholism, abuse of prescription medication, neglect, minor instances of child abuse, student/teacher relationships, sexual relations with a minor, and of course femslash. Now, as far as I know, the legal age of consent in Ohio is 16, but it's still pretty taboo; we're talking about a relationship between a sixteen-year-old and a woman in her mid thirties, so. If any of that stuff is a bother to you, I would suggest finding something else to read. Also, angst. So, that being said, please enjoy.

And so for all of you who thought that I was never coming back, here I am again to prove you wrong. Of course I really have no excuse as to why this took so long other than the fact that I just have the most sporadic bursts of inspiration ever and then the rest of my life is nothing but dry spell. But yes, as promised I have not given up on this story, nor will I.

I would like to preface this chapter by saying that you guys are going to be really confused like, immediately and it's going to seem like this happens incredibly suddenly, but it's supposed to feel like that, so don't worry because you didn't miss anything. This is just one more necessary step in Quinn's journey.

I also have one more thing to say, and that is this: Quelby is not endgame in this story. I don't even know how many times people have sent me reviews since the last chapter and asked me to reconsider this, but you guys might as well save your breath because it's not happening and all it does is annoy me. I know you like Quelby and all, and that's great, but the way this story is set up and where it's heading, it's just not possible or realistic for Quelby to be endgame. I started this story with the intentions of it ending with Quitt, and that's how it's going to stay. If you don't like that, feel free to stop reading at any time. But for the love of god please stop asking me to keep it Quelby because it's not happening.

That said, thank you for the many many reviews and favorites and such that you guys gave me since the last chapter and sorry for being such a shithead with the update time.

The knock on the door is loud and unexpected. Quinn startles and snaps her head up off of Shelby's chest where it's resting. She looks at Shelby with alarm while Shelby glances down at her watch.

"Who could possibly be here at ten-thirty?" she mutters, getting up to answer the door. Quinn follows close behind, frowning worriedly when she notices Shelby's face pale as she looks through the peephole. Shelby steps back and takes a steadying breath before unlatching the lock and opening the door.

Two officers dressed in blue stand before them looking very serious.

"Quinn Fabray?" one of them, probably in his mid-forties with soft brown eyes, asks.

Quinn blanches and looks to Shelby, who is stony-faced and pale, having some sort of staring contest with the younger, steel-eyed officer in front of her.

"That's… me," Quinn says slowly, dreading the worst. This is it, she thinks. Andrea told and now they're going to take me away and throw Shelby in jail. She feels herself shaking at the prospect of never seeing Shelby again.

The first officer takes his hat off and looks at her gravely. "My name is Officer Kelso. This here is my partner, Officer Miller." The blue-eyed officer tips his hat to her. "I'm terribly sorry to have to inform you that there was an accident this evening."

Quinn tries to swallow, but her mouth is suddenly too dry, her throat too tight. "What—what kind of accident?"

"Your mother was on her way to an AA meeting this evening when she was hit by a drunk driver," Officer Miller tells her as simply as if he were talking about the weather. Quinn's brain immediately points out the irony of that as she stares blankly ahead. Of course her mother would get hit by a drunk driver on her way to an AA meeting. Of course. It makes perfect sense.

"Oh God," Shelby whispers, her face contorted in horror. Yes, Quinn thinks, that's what my reaction should be. That's how a normal person should respond. "Is she alright?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am," Officer Kelso replies in a pained voice. "She passed away before the ambulance arrived. I'm very sorry."

He's looking at Quinn now, but Quinn is not looking at him. She's staring into Officer Miller's icy, emotionless eyes. She can't bear to look at Officer Kelso's sympathetic face or Shelby's mix of horror and worry. If she does, she may crumble to dust before their very eyes.

Dead. Her mother is dead. There were many times over the years that Quinn had almost wished that she would wake up one morning to find her mother cold and lifeless on the couch. At least then Judy would finally be at peace. But now… now that she was finally starting to get to know her mother again, this happens. She can't believe it, can't fathom it at all. Just yesterday Quinn had visited her mother to check up on her and Judy had been up and lucid, sober for almost two months. They talked about school and Shelby and current events, what Quinn wanted to do over the summer. Now Judy Fabray was lying dead in a morgue somewhere. Quinn would never see her again, never hear her voice, never have the chance to move back in with her or congratulate her on reaching a year of sobriety.

"How bad was it?" she asks finally, and her voice is barely recognizable. The question is directed at Miller because she knows by the look in his eye that he will not sugar coat it for her. He doesn't disappoint.

"They had to use dental records to confirm the identity of the body."

Shelby turns her head away in disgust. Her hand is heavy on Quinn's shoulder and she uses it to draw Quinn in close to her side. Quinn allows her to do it, but she doesn't react to it. Her mind is a blank slate. The only thing she can see is her mother curled up on the couch with her favorite sweatshirt on, smiling up at Quinn with pale eyes and a thin face.

"Someone will be in touch soon with more details. You can claim the body at the city morgue after the autopsy is finished. In the meantime, you may want to contact your mother's lawyer about her will." Shelby is nodding for her at all of this, so Quinn doesn't bother. Officer Kelso hands her a card. "You can call us anytime if you need anything. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Shelby thanks them and shuts the door without Quinn even noticing. It's not until she feels herself being turned and pulled fully into a strong embrace that she realizes that the men are gone, almost like a dream.

"Oh, baby I'm so sorry," Shelby sighs into her ear. Her voice is thick as though she might cry at any moment. She smells like coffee and shampoo and it makes Quinn feel like she can breathe again.

She feels herself being led somewhere and a second later she's being pulled down onto the couch and into Shelby's lap, cradled almost like a baby. Her face settles into the crook of Shelby's neck and Shelby holds her tightly, stroking her hair and murmuring softly into her ear. Quinn wonders suddenly why Shelby never had any children, because she would have made a fantastic mother. Images appear unbidden in her mind of a young Rachel Berry coming home from school to show Shelby her latest art project, or blowing away the audience at nationals while Shelby stands in the wings and looks on proudly. She doesn't know why she thinks of this. Rachel obviously has her own mother and Shelby has no children, but it's what her brain supplies and so she allows herself to envision it.

The sound of the eleven o' clock news starting up catches her ears and Quinn hears the anchor, a woman, start in immediately with the story of an awful car crash resulting in the deaths of both drivers, identities as yet unreleased. She hears Shelby make a noise of disgust in the back of her throat and then her whole world shifts as she leans forward for something, then back. It is only with the sound of the TV dying in the background that Quinn finally realizes that they were talking about her mother. She'd already forgotten; already convinced herself that it was a dream.

It suddenly clicks in Quinn's head, what she heard on the news. Both drivers died in the crash. That means that the person who killed her mother, whoever it was, gets off easy. He probably wanted to die, probably got into his car with the intention of reaching death, and so he did. Just not alone. Instead, he took someone with him; someone, who after so many years of reaching for death, was finally learning to yearn for life again. This person would never pay retribution for what he took from her. She was left to suffer the consequences of his actions alone.

Quinn feels her breathing get shallow, like she can't get enough air into her lungs. She pants short, hot breaths into Shelby's neck, but she doesn't cry. Shelby holds her tighter and Quinn hears her sniffle quietly. It's almost too much. What is she supposed to do now? What is she supposed to look forward to? For over ten years Quinn has had almost no need of her mother, but now, faced with the prospect of living the rest of her life without Judy Fabray, she realizes that she does need her. She needs her mother. And now she's gone.

xx

Quinn wakes up very early the next morning feeling completely unrested. She's in Shelby's bed, wrapped tightly in the woman's arms and it suddenly feels like she's suffocating. She untangles herself as gently as possible and rolls away, staring blankly at the wall. Her mouth is incredibly dry and her head is pulsing with a dull throb, but other than that she feels nothing. She thinks nothing.

After a time, she gets out of bed and walks slowly to the bathroom. When she's done, she stares at herself in the mirror. For a split second, she sees her mother staring back at her and feels her stomach turn. But then it's just Quinn again, staring back at her with dead eyes and pale skin. She remembers the first time she looked at herself in this mirror, with a huge purple bruise under her eye. She had been eager to leave then, to get back to her home and have Shelby stop trying to take care of her. She wonders what might be different if she knew then what she knows now.

Shelby wakes up to pale sunlight creeping in through the window and a cold, empty bed. She rolls out of bed quickly and pads into the living room, releasing a heavy sigh of relief when she sees Quinn sitting on the couch. She's not sure what she expected exactly, but she's just glad that everything appears to be fairly normal. Quinn is sitting there completely motionless, staring at a random spot on the wall. She doesn't even acknowledge the fact that Shelby has entered the room. It looks like she's barely even breathing.

"Morning," Shelby says into the still air, and she almost flinches at the sound of her own voice, as though it will cause something to break. When she receives no response, she clears her throat and tries again "I called the principal last night and explained everything, so we don't have to worry about school for a few days."

It takes several moments of oppressing silence before Shelby finally gets a very quiet and cracked "okay." She takes a deep breath to steel herself before walking over to the couch and sitting on the edge very gingerly, making sure to keep several inches of space between Quinn and herself. To be honest, she's not really sure what the rules are here, but she thinks she knows Quinn well enough to know that hugs and kisses are not going to make this okay. Still, she has to try something, because right now Quinn looks like nothing more than a statue, and it's scaring her.

"How are you feeling?" she asks tentatively, and what a stupid question, but she can't take it back now.

"Fine." The response is automatic and somehow Quinn manages to give it without moving anything other than her lips.

She doesn't know what else to say, and she can't bear to see Quinn in this state, so she just turns her head away and looks toward the kitchen.

The phone suddenly rings very shrilly from its place on the wall and Quinn flinches at the noise just slightly, though Shelby is too busy leaping from the couch to retrieve it to notice. She answers the phone and a listless female voice greets her on the other end.

"Hello, I'm calling from the city morgue. Is this Ms. Shelby Corcoran?"

"Yes," Shelby replies tersely, because this is already the worst phone call she's ever experienced and it hasn't even started yet.

"We have the remains of a Judy Fabray here for pickup by her next of kin, a…" the woman pauses and Shelby can hear her shuffle through some papers, "Quinn Fabray."

Shelby closes her eyes and swallows hard. "Okay."

"The remains are available for her to retrieve at her earliest convenience."

"Okay, thank you."

"Of course. I'm sorry for your loss. Have a nice day."

Shelby hangs up the phone with a little more force than is strictly necessary and takes a moment to compose herself before turning back to face Quinn, who it appears hasn't moved a muscle yet.

"That was the morgue," Shelby says very slowly, as though she can possibly avoid having to speak the words aloud by delaying them as long as possible. "They have your—" She stops abruptly, because telling Quinn that they have her mother's body for her to pick up is about he most disgusting and tactless thing she can ever imagine saying. "They're ready for you whenever."

"Okay," Quinn replies, and her voice could probably be out-livened by Judy herself right now. "I'm ready now."

"Quinn," Shelby says urgently, because all of this is just a little too much for her, "you don't have to do this. You can stay here and I'll go talk to your mother's lawyer and make sure everything is in order, and—"

"No!"

It's probably the loudest she's ever heard Quinn speak in all the time she's known her, and she has to take a step back just to balance herself against it. Quinn has gone from being completely motionless all morning to standing straight up and baring her shoulders like she's ready to tackle Shelby down in a matter of seconds. Her eyes blaze golden green and her chest heaves with each angry breath.

"I want to go," she says, softer now, but still very firm. Shelby can do nothing more than nod silently in agreement.

"I'll go get dressed and we can leave," she says quietly. Quinn takes a deep breath, sits back down, and doesn't respond.

xx

The morgue is in the basement of an official building at the east end of town. They are met at the desk by a rail-thin woman with short, mouse-brown hair and splotchy skin, and Shelby immediately knows by the expression on her face that it's the same woman she spoke to on the phone.

"Quinn Fabray," she says, looking over the desk at Quinn, and it's not a question. Quinn returns her blank stare with a matching one of her own. "One second."

The woman disappears into a back room for several minutes and then returns with a small cardboard box in her hands, taped neatly on all sides with a sticker on top that reads Fabray, Judith and gives a few other details that make no sense and are probably used for record-keeping purposes. She slides the box across the surface of the desk towards Quinn, along with a clipboard. Shelby doesn't understand at first, doesn't know what the hell that box is for unless it's personal effects that were found in the car after the accident. It's not until after Quinn has signed a few papers on the clipboard and reaches out to take the box that she realizes. It's not Judy's personal effects; it's Judy in that box. She has to turn her head away and force the bile back down her throat so that she doesn't vomit everywhere.

Quinn, for her part, knows exactly what's in the box as soon as she sees it. Once she's done signing the release papers, she regards the box curiously for a few seconds before reaching out for it. She grasps the sides gently in her hands and picks it up almost reverently. She is surprised by both the heaviness and lightness of the box; surprised because she didn't expect a pile of ashes to be quite so heavy, but she also can't believe that an entire human body can be reduced to ten pounds or less. She quietly thanks the coroner and turns away with Judy clutched tightly to her chest. Shelby follows her back to the car, looking dangerously pale and on the verge of being sick.

"Do you want me to drive?" Quinn asks, and her voice is perfectly calm as though she isn't clutching a box full of her mother's ashes to her chest. Shelby's not even sure how Quinn plans on driving considering the fact that it doesn't even look like she plans on relinquishing the box for anything.

"It's fine," Shelby croaks in reply and climbs into the driver's side to start up the car. Quinn gets in on the other side and holds the box on her lap the entire way home.

xx

Shelby spends the rest of the morning getting in contact with Judy's lawyer, and he clears his schedule for the afternoon in order to come over and explain the contents of Judy's will. Quinn is holed up in her room with the box, and has been since they got home. Shelby brings her some lunch around noon, but when she returns two hours later to check on her, she finds the meal untouched. She can't really find it in her to pester Quinn about it. She can't even fathom what the girl must be thinking, must be feeling. Quinn's expression and posture are both stony still, but behind those hazel eyes Shelby can see a swarm of emotions, like a class five hurricane, and she is both afraid of getting caught in the storm and of being unable to clean up the wreckage that's left behind.

Mr. Swartz comes by at 2:30. He's a short, balding man with a potato for a nose and constantly flushed skin. He wears a very expensive-looking three-piece suit and greets Shelby with a handshake and a look of deep regret in his eyes.

"I was so shocked to hear about what happened to Judy this morning that I almost had to go to the hospital over an asthma attack! Thank you," he says graciously when Shelby offers him a glass of water. "She was such a nice lady, never did deserve the poor lot she got after that accident. And her girl Quinn, now there's a sharp one. And a talented singer, I hear too! How is she doing?" His beady eyes glance around the living room as though she may be hiding in a corner somewhere waiting for him to ask about her.

"She's… dealing as well as she can," Shelby says politely.

"Hmm," Mr. Swartz hums in agreement. "She's a strong girl; took care of her mom all those years. She'll pull through."

Shelby smiles tightly and silently wishes that he would get to the point.

"Well! Let's get to it, shall we? I believe the first order of business is to tell you that Judy visited me about a month ago, looking the healthiest I've seen her in ten years, mind you, and made a few changes to her will, the most important of them being that in the case of her death or any other circumstance which might render her incapacitated, guardianship of Quinn would be granted to one Shelby Corcoran, which if I'm not mistaken is you, ma'am. Is that correct?"

Shelby can't control the look of complete disbelief that takes over her face. "Excuse me?" Maybe she didn't hear correctly. The man was babbling about a mile a minute, so she could have very easily mistaken his words to mean something else.

"Well, she explained the situation to me, how you've been taking care of Quinn recently while Judy was seeking help for her problems, and apparently she trusts you very much with her daughter's welfare. So, as long as you're willing to keep this arrangement up for the next two years until Quinn is an adult, I have some papers right here for you to sign and we can make it official."

He says it with such glee that Shelby feels pretty bad at the amount of abject horror she feels over this turn of events, but becoming Quinn's legal guardian is such a new level of wrong considering the circumstances that she just can't find it in her to feel anything other than appalled. How in the hell could Judy have possibly named her as Quinn's guardian without her knowledge? And why? Didn't Quinn have any other family out there? Why trust someone who was almost a complete stranger with your child in the event of your death? It just didn't make any logical sense to her.

But she couldn't say no. What kind of awful person would that make her? And what would happen to Quinn? By law she would probably have to be thrown into the foster care system, which would take her God knows where, and Shelby would probably end up trying to get her back anyway. In all actuality, Judy had somehow managed to make things a thousand times easier for them both without even knowing it.

"Yes," Shelby says finally, now that Mr. Swartz is beginning to look concerned, "of course. I'll sign those right away."

Mr. Swartz beams at her and flips through some papers. "Excellent! Now the next order of business is the matter of Quinn's inheritance, which as you may know is quite a large sum of money left over from the lawsuit. Per Judy's request, I've set up an account for Quinn which allows her to have access to twenty percent of that inheritance now, and the rest of it when she turns eighteen. All we have to do is have her sign this paper accepting ownership of the account, and then you of course will be her co-signer."

Shelby nods numbly while he explains the intricate details of the account; what Quinn can and cannot do with her money and the circumstances under which she can receive her full inheritance when she becomes an adult. It doesn't really matter, considering the fact that Quinn probably won't even need half of the twenty percent that she already has access to, and Shelby is no one to tell her what to do with her own money. She just wants this man to leave so that the two of them can deal with the aftermath of this mess together.

Once she's signed all the necessary papers and called Quinn out of her room so that she can do her part as well, and after Mr. Swartz gives a fifteen-minute speech to Quinn about how wonderful her mother is, he leaves them alone. Quinn is back in her room with the door shut before Shelby can speak.

xx

For the next three days, Quinn sits on her bed with the box placed in front of her and stares at it while she thinks. She replays the last sixteen years of her life, from her very first memory to this exact moment, searching for any clue as to how she got here.

She knows that Shelby is worried about her. She comes by to drop off a meal three times a day. They go untouched for the first day and a half before Quinn begins to feel faint and realizes that she'll end up dead too if she doesn't at least eat. Sometimes Shelby lingers in the doorway of her room, but she doesn't say anything and Quinn doesn't acknowledge her presence.

She suddenly has a thought, and it's one that repulses her completely, but once she feels the first tickle of it in the back of her mind, she can't make it go away. She sits and stares at the box with her mother's name on it and wonders what's inside. What do the ashes of a human being look like? Will they remind her of Judy at all?

The thought begins to consume her until she can think of nothing else, and finally she moves off of her bed for the first time in what feels like forever and retrieves a pair of scissors from the desk. Very carefully, she brings the box to the edge of the bed and uses the scissors to slice through the tape on the top of the box. Then she stands there and stares at what she's done. She can't go back now.

Quinn reaches out, so slowly that it's as if her hand isn't moving at all, but it's steady and eventually she grasps the flaps of the box and pulls them back. What she finds inside is a plastic bag, very similar to a garbage bag, filled with brown-gray ashes. They aren't thin and wispy, like cigarette ashes or burnt paper, but heavy and thick; a large pile of disintegrated bone and maybe other things that didn't completely melt away during the cremation.

And now Quinn is plagued with images of her mother's body being pushed into a giant oven, watching the skin bubble and melt, the blood sizzle, the muscle cook like chicken for dinner. Without warning, she vomits, loudly and onto the bedspread, narrowly missing the box of ashes. It isn't thirty seconds before Shelby is bursting through the door. She doesn't ask questions, merely runs to Quinn's side as she finishes throwing up. Quinn looks up at her, eyes streaming tears from the force of being sick.

"I don't want them," she croaks.

Shelby only nods and leads Quinn across the hall to take a hot bath while she goes about cleaning up the mess and putting the ashes out of sight until she can make the proper arrangements.

xx

They go to the closest cemetery, a huge sprawling place with grey and white gleaming headstones that stretch across lush green grass for miles, standing at attention like the ghosts of soldiers. At the center is a looming marble mausoleum, and this is where Quinn puts her mother to rest, inside a bronze drawer that will soon have her name engraved on it, with the blessings of a priest that she has never met before this day and will never see again. She doesn't say a word the entire time. Shelby stands solemnly by her side and grips her hand tightly.

When it's all over, the priest gives her his condolences. Shelby thanks him and he leaves. Quinn traces the edges of the drawer that now holds her mother's ashes, wondering if this is what Judy wanted for her remains, if she would have preferred having her body rot in a wooden box under the earth, if she even cared. It hardly matters now, so she wishes Judy peace and turns away, taking Shelby's hand once more and leaving the mausoleum behind.

"I'm going to change," Shelby says once they get home and she's sure Quinn isn't going to have a breakdown. She hangs up her coat and walks down the hallway towards her bedroom, but she barely gets past the bathroom before she feels strong fingers gripping her shoulder and suddenly she's being spun around and pushed into the wall and Quinn's lips are covering hers with a fervent urgency that is unmistakable.

Shelby can only manage to find purchase on Quinn, so she fists one hand in thick blonde locks and grips a firm hip with the other while Quinn attacks her mouth. She groans as Quinn's tongue pushes past her lips and a sort of fire ignites inside of her that is wholly inappropriate considering where they just came from.

Quinn has done away with the buttons on her blouse far too easily and she pulls Shelby off of the wall just long enough to get rid of the shirt and bra before pinning her back down. Shelby hisses at the cold paint against her bare skin while Quinn attacks her neck and chest with harsh, biting teeth. Quinn's mouth attaches to her nipple while she tugs impatiently at the zipper on Shelby's skirt. She should probably help before her skirt ends up ruined, but Quinn's mouth has rendered her completely useless. Quinn manages on her own, however, and the skirt drops to the floor silently, quickly followed by Shelby's underwear. And then Quinn is pushing into her without preamble and it's all she can do to stay upright.

Quinn seems to realize that Shelby is not going to last long this way, so she leaves Shelby's breast with a pop and straightens enough to pull one of Shelby's legs around her hip. Shelby takes the hint and pulls Quinn tighter to her, wrapping her hand around the back of Quinn's neck and pulling her into a desperate kiss to drown out the keening noises that are erupting from her mouth as Quinn takes advantage of the new angle.

It doesn't take nearly as long as it probably should for Shelby to get off, but the way that Quinn is pounding into her has her back slick with sweat as she slides against the wall, and soon she is shaking and clenching around Quinn's fingers. Quinn bites her lip in concentration while Shelby rides her out. Her brow is glistening from the effort of it all, but she doesn't stop even when Shelby seems to have come down, and soon Shelby is coming for a second time.

When she finally regains her senses, Shelby finds Quinn kissing her throat. Her fingers are still buried deep inside and Shelby gets the feeling that Quinn might have plans to start again, so she reaches down and gingerly removes Quinn's hand and sets her foot back on the floor. Quinn finally looks up at her and Shelby strokes her sweaty face, pulls her into a sweet kiss. Quinn is quick to pull away. She grabs Shelby's hand and takes them into the bedroom that Shelby had been headed toward originally, stepping over discarded clothes.

Quinn allows Shelby to remove her clothes when they get there. Shelby has Quinn lie down, kisses her tenderly and works her hands over the familiar body with care. It is very clear by the way that Quinn pulls Shelby towards her and kisses her fiercely that she isn't looking for tenderness or care, though. Shelby recognizes this for what it is: Quinn trying to assert some sort of control over her life again through sex. She wishes that there was a way for her to make Quinn see that this won't fix anything, won't make her feel any better. But Quinn is lying beneath her, open and wanting, and Shelby knows her well enough to know that if she gives Quinn what she wants now, she will be more receptive to Shelby's efforts to help her later. And so she proceeds to fuck Quinn the way Quinn wants her to—hard and deep and relentlessly.

By the time Quinn is finally exhausted enough to sleep, the sheets are soaked with their sweat, the air is thick with the smell of them, and Shelby has come more times than she can count. She knows that they'll have a lot to deal with once they wake, but for now she allows herself to pull Quinn's sleeping body closer and drift off.

xx

Surprisingly, she wakes before Quinn, who is lying on her stomach with the sheets half thrown off, snoring lightly. Shelby has no idea how long they've been out, but she needs a glass of water about as much as she needs air, so she climbs out of bed as carefully as she can and heads for the kitchen.

As she gulps down her first glass of water, she realizes that maybe coffee would be a good idea, so she sets about making that with such practiced ease that she doesn't even hear footsteps behind her. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels Quinn's warm hands slide around to her front, but the feeling of soft lips on her shoulder relaxes her immediately. She leans back with a soft smile and reaches her hand back around to tangle in Quinn's hair.

Quinn has come with a purpose. Her hand snakes quickly down Shelby's stomach and between her legs. Shelby groans at the first touch of Quinn's fingers over her clit. She is sore and swollen from their previous activities, her clit literally throbbing from overuse. And still, as if trying to prove to her just how obscene she is, her body reacts positively to the touch. She shifts her legs further apart and grips the edge of the counter as Quinn fingers her clit, slowly at first, and then with increasing rapidness. She rubs in tight little circles while Shelby's hips jut forward and her half-raw throat emits low, scratchy moans.

It's over by the time the coffee has finished brewing. Shelby can really only manage to lean against Quinn for several moments, which Quinn doesn't really seem to mind as she sucks lightly on Shelby's shoulder. When her hand starts moving again though, Shelby spurs into action and turns around.

"There is no way I can possibly survive if you start that again," she murmurs against Quinn's lips. Quinn looks disappointed, but she nods and steps away. Shelby fills her mug with the freshly made coffee and turns to face Quinn again, who is yawning widely. "Why don't you go back to bed?"

Quinn seems on the verge of protesting, but another yawn cuts her off. Shelby smirks and Quinn while chagrinned. "Yeah, okay," she says quietly. She steps forward and give Shelby a quick peck on the lips before ambling off down the hall.

Once she's gone, Shelby sighs heavily and falls back against the counter. She thinks long and hard about the situation as she sips her coffee. If Quinn's reaction after their trip to the cemetery today is any indication, the girl is still not dealing with all of this very well. Shelby can't even recall a single instance of Quinn crying throughout this whole ordeal. Not that she really wants Quinn to have to cry, but if Quinn can't grieve properly, then they'll never be able to move on.

There is one person, Shelby thinks. One person who is almost certain to get some sort of emotional reaction out of Quinn other than this blankness and sexual ferocity that she's been exhibiting with Shelby. It sounds like a really terrible idea and it could totally backfire, but the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that she doesn't have much of a choice. Quinn needs something familiar in her life.

With a resigned sigh, Shelby finishes her coffee and rinses out her cup. She walks back to her bedroom to find that Quinn is already asleep, so she gets dressed very quietly and makes a phone call.

xx

Quinn has no idea what time it is when she wakes up. All she knows is that it's dark outside and the bed next to her is empty, has probably not been reclaimed since she went back to sleep.

A sound from the living room reminds Quinn why she woke up in the first place. She realizes that someone is knocking on the door and has been for at least a few minutes. With a heavy groan, she rolls out of bed and ambles into her own room, where she finds a pair of sweats and a shirt to throw on. The knocking has persisted this entire time and Quinn growls at the annoyance, wondering where the hell Shelby could be. It's clear that she isn't in the apartment though, so Quinn goes over to the door and rips it open without checking to see who's behind it.

Dustin is mid-knock when the door flies open to reveal a very sleep-ruffled Quinn. She stares at him for several seconds, as if not really recognizing who he is, before her face contorts and he nearly winces because it's clear that she's pissed.

"What the hell do you want?" she barks.

Dustin balks. He had a whole speech planned out, but the sight of Quinn after all this time, looking like she's just come back from war and barely survived, stops the words in his throat. He suddenly wonders why it's taken him this long, why it's been months since he's really spoken to his best friend, why he even started this bullshit in the first place. Quinn needed him. She needed him and he wasn't there for her.

"I'm sorry," he croaks out finally, because it's the best he can do right now.

Quinn actually growls at him and moves to slam the door in his face, but he is stronger than she is and pushes his way into the apartment.

"I'm sorry," he says again, and then he's wrapping her up in a hug for the first time in a very long time, and even though she's pushing and clawing and swearing at him he just holds her tighter. "I'm so sorry."

He says it to her over and over again like a mantra until it eventually starts to sink into her brain. The feel of his arms around her starts to become familiar again and the scent of his cologne brings back so many memories that her protestations become less and less until they disappear altogether. She sags into his arms and buries her face in his shoulder and breathes him in.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," he says again, and the sound of his voice choked with tears unleashes something within her. She sobs, harder and harder until the tears soak into his shirt and he is holding her upright. She cries for the first time since the police showed up at their door so many nights ago. She cries until she has no more tears, no more energy, and Dustin cries with her and holds her tightly and whispers brokenly into her hear.

"I love you, Quinn. I'm sorry."