Six Months Ago.

"Leave me alone!"

"I don't think I will. You have something I want. She's mine. And I'm getting her back."

He gives me a sick, twisted sort of smile. I flinch internally. Who does this kid think he is?

"She's not interested. I would know. Since, you know, I'm pretty sure you're not a girl. Wait, hmm, maybe I'm wrong about tha-"

"Watch your mouth, Fabray. She'll leave you, you'll see. There's no way Rachel Berry's gay. And I'm going to help her figure out what a sorry lapse in judgment you were. After all, I'm all she's ever wanted. We know I'll be the one to end up with her. You're just an experiment, nothing more. In fact, I'd watch your back at prom. Who knows who'll drag her off to a dark corner…"

"LEAVE!"

At this point I'm hysterical, sick to my stomach even. The walls are starting to shake and my eyes are threatening to betray me with tears. He can't know that he's scaring me, that he's voicing all of my worst fears. I can't even admit that to myself.

"As you wish, Queen Q. Have a good day, alright?"

He walks away slowly, almost sadistically. As soon as I know he's out of sight, I sink to the ground, propping my head against a nearby locker. I grudgingly allow a few drops to fall down my cheeks, and mentally spew all of the curses I can think of at that asshole, hopefully giving him the message through my frantic brainwaves.

In hindsight, I can't blame the whole thing on that one conversation. Doubts had been spewing from secluded corners of my mind for weeks previous, every time a guy would look too far below her eyes or send a wolf whistle her way. Maybe I should've talked to her. She would've understood. But it's too late for that now.

"Am I allowed to talk yet?" I quip after three long hours of silence. Really, I thought I'd be able to keep my mouth shut, but having her sit so close to me that I can feel her body heat radiating onto my skin isn't good for my willpower. I'll even take a scathing remark if it gets Rachel to open those beautiful lips of hers.

"Nope," She pops the p that stills the air with a bang of finality.

I cross my arms over my chest, frustrated. Okay, I admit it to myself. I'm losing hope. Spending hours and hours in a confined space with someone you love with your entire being and is in turn furious at you is hard. Harder than I expected. The quiet stabs me like a knife.

I need noise, distractions.

Right, the radio. Good idea, Quinn. I pat myself on the back internally.

Wait, no, arm, don't actually…

Too late. I've already put my hand on my shoulder, subconsciously. Rachel notices the movement, because, of course, she's "extremely perceptive". I scowl as her expression turns slightly amused and spin the radio dial on the dashboard. Way to go, Quinn. Now she thinks you belong in a mental institute. Well, I mean, she probably thought that already…

A Katy Perry song blares from the stereo. I grimace. I'm really not in the mood for hearing how smashed everyone got at some party last week. Maybe I'm just huffy because I haven't touched alcohol since the thing. I turn the knob to the oldies station that I wouldn't dare listen to in anyone's presence but Rachel's and grin as the familiar first few bars of instrumental blast through the speakers. My grin has broken the grin scale, possibly moving onto a full on smile, as I see Rachel's lips curve upward slightly. The only Beatles song she ever tolerated couldn't have picked a better moment to play. I cheer internally and realize I should probably start singing along now because, yeah, there are perfect words within the lyrics that I don't have the courage or the conviction to say to her myself right now.

"OH YEAH I'LL, TELL YOU SOMETHING. I THINK YOU'LL UNDERSTAND."

I'm screaming and probably butchering everything those four famous virtuosos ever worked for but I honestly don't care at the moment because Rachel's seconds away from betraying a hint of affection. I'd give anything to make her smile, a real smile, the smile she saves just for me.

"WHEN I, SAY THAT SOMETHING. I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAAAAAAAAAND!"

I try to grab her wrist and she motions towards the road in a knock-it-out-unless-you-want-me-to-crash-your-Mustang sort of way, even though she's trying her hardest not to laugh at my antics. But I'm determined, and so I put on my best puppy dog expression and continue singing-er, yelling.

"I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAAAAAND. I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND."

I flip my hands around uselessly, grasping the air for another palm to enclose mine, and change my expression into a more pitiful one every time I realize she's still gripping the wheel. I know she's close to cracking though, so I smirk and continue on.

"OH PLEEEASE, SAY TO MEEEEE. YOU'LL LET ME BE YOUR MAAAAN."

At this I put a finger over my lip, as if I have a mustache. Finally, Rachel can't control her laughter anymore, and bursts into a fit of giggles. I almost cry from the happiness engulfing me like a warm, unfamiliar blanket – I would act like a fool for eternity to get her to smile like that for five minutes. She seems to realize where she is though, or rather, who she's with, and presses her lips into a hard line, glaring in my direction. Her knuckles are white, she must be hanging onto the steering wheel for dear life. After an unfamiliar tune plays for a few seconds, the music becomes static-y, and I turn the radio off. The silence is like a jolt to my system, but I see a ghost of a grin radiating in her bottomless chocolate brown eyes, and I know there's hope. At least, for now.

"We should stop for dinner."

We've been trapped in a semi-peaceful, semi-awkward silence for a long time since the radio incident. Neither of us are quite sure of what to say or how to act, and we've almost crossed the Ohio/West Virginia border, so I figure it's time to voice the words my rumbling stomach's been trying to for hours.

"Sure."

She almost smiles, and I count my blessings that she's not a glowering or a reprimanding me for speaking out of turn. We cruise at a leisurely pace for a few minutes until we spot the next exit. The town looks a bit dingy from what I can see, and the most I'm guessing is here is a McDonalds, but I allow her to drive off the parkway just the same. It's getting really dark out, and neither of us want to travel too late, especially on an empty stomach. We've been driving for miles and I'm getting anxious. I look for the telltale signs of the yellow arches, but, finally, spot something else instead.

Neon pink and green lights temporarily blind my vision. I hadn't realized the sky had turned pitch black until I see the contrast of the lights to the horizon. Which is crazy, because it's barely five o'clock. I squint and read the writing on the bright sign.

Bunker Family Diner

A diner's probably as good as we're going to get around this place, and it's not like there's many ways you can mess up a burger, so I tap her on the shoulder.

"Rach, we should stop here."

Rachel nods in agreement, and pulls into the slightly dilapidated parking lot. We enter the neon-encrusted building, not sure what to expect. I brace myself for biker thugs, a bar, and maybe a hooker or two. What I see once I'm through the door shocks me so much I almost trip over my own feet.

At least fifteen people, none under the age of forty, are conversing loudly to each other through red vinyl booths. The diner is decked out like it's from the fifties, complete with a jukebox and a laminate counter and everything. There are only two waiters, a grey haired man balancing a tray full of salads on his head to the amusement of the customers; and a red haired, beautiful woman, probably thirty or so years younger than the man. I see her rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath while she scribbles furiously on a pad. We stand there for a few seconds in the doorway without being noticed, until a distinctly southern voice calls out from what I assume is the kitchen.

"Barny, ya old coot, we've got guests, stop that racket! Millie, sweetie pie, show 'em to a booth! Can't have those youngsters starve, now could we? Not with the storm comin' in!"

The redhead who I guess to be Millie nods at once, notices Rachel and I standing hesitantly by the door, and gestures us over to a table. The grey haired man skillfully balances his trays on one finger while throwing two menus our way. I catch them, but barely, and, deciding to join in on the fun, toss one Rachel's way, giggling as it nearly smacks her in the face. I'm almost positive that man's Barny. He winks at me from across the room. I wink back, and Barny exposes a toothy (well, mostly toothless) grin. I decide I like him as he places the trays down on a nearby counter and walks towards us.

"I'll take 'em, Mill. You go on with the regular folk, make sure Ol' Hopkins doesn't cause a scene again."

Millie huffs and rolls her eyes again. I deduce she's not really friendly. People with attitudes who aren't Santana bother me. I look over to Rachel across the table and see the same look of disbelief at Millie's evident rudeness mirrored in her expression. It comforts me to know that we can at least agree on something.

"You'll have to excuse us, dears. See, we usually don't get strangers comin' on into Rockhill. Lonely place, it is here. Location's not too good for much'a anythin'. We only came up here from ol' Kentucky cause poor ol' Bob's gotten ill- Oh! I'm so used to talkin' to the regular crowd I didn' even think y'all couldn't care less about poor ol' Barmy Barny. What can I getcha gorgeous girls?"

I blush at the compliment and can't conceal a smile. I don't usually warm up to new people, but this place feels cozy and warm and almost like home. That's crazy because I've only been here for five minutes, but I can't quash the feeling in my chest. I clear my throat and decide to order before I get all sentimental or something.

"Uh, can I have a diet Coke and a, uh, hamburger? With fries?"

I know Rachel's going to disapprove of the whole meat thing, but my stomach is growling in protest too much for me to even consider changing my order.

"I'll have a Greek salad, please. No feta cheese, no dressing. And maybe a water if it's not to much trouble for you."

She smiles and hands him her menu. I snort too loudly for her to not notice. When she gives me the look that signals I'm in big trouble, I shrug helplessly.

"The cheese and the dressing are the whole point!" I'm too loud for normal restaurant conversing but no one seems to mind. "Without them…it's not a Greek salad, it's just a salad!"

Just as I'm hoping she's not too mad and considering that I probably severely fucked up all the progress I'd made today, Barny starts cackling. I jump, having forgotten he was even there.

"You sound just like me and Elly back in the day. Ah, crazy kids. I'll be back with your drinks, girls."

He dances away to the beat of a song that's not playing and I can't help but smile. Whatever this place is, it's definitely better than Lima.

A loud clap of thunder booms and I jolt from my thoughts, sparing a glance at Rachel. She looks composed, but I know better. Storms freak her out. As rain starts audibly pelting the roof and the occupants of Bunker's Family Diner groan, I realize we may have to stay in Rockhill, Ohio longer than we planned.

"So what brings ya-" BANG "here today?"

I twirl my fry around in the pool of ketchup I've created and shrug, trying to resist the urge to put my arm around Rachel. She's abandoned all thoughts of food, curled up in a little ball, laying on the red vinyl booth with her hood pulled over the face. I see her shiver and squirm in my seat.

"We're driving to college. Thought we'd grab something to eat before it got too dark. I didn't know there was going to be a storm, though."

"Yeah, well, they sneak up on ya, these her' storms. It's not unusual to get a funnel cloud, so just be aware, alright?"

At this Rachel actually squeaks and hides further under the booth. BANG. I sigh and decide to let go of my minimal willpower and sit next to her. I hold her hand under the table as a friendly gesture of comfort, but she flinches at the contact. Oh. Right. I'm not supposed to touch her. Got it.

"Rach is a little shaken, sorry, Barny. I think we're gonna to have to get going to make it to our hotel in time. Check please?"

I smile a little weakly as I glance out the window. It's like the sky turned into a bottomless, fathomless black hole with a broken floodgate. There's a sheet of water, droplets pelting the building at a mile a minute. BANG. This might be difficult to drive in. I obviously have to do it, Rachel absolutely cannot operate machinery in her shaking, sniveling condition. I hate that she's so cute when she's scared.

"Nonsense, nonsense! I don't want you lovely youngins driving in a tropical weather alert! That's dangerous! Tell ya what, I'll give you a room. No charge, of course not."

"Barny, we could-"

BANG. The loudest clap yet. If possible, the rain pours harder.

I take one look at Rachel and sigh. Even when she's not trying to get her way, she always gets her way. I slouch in defeat.

"I appreciate it, thank you. We'll obviously pay, though. Er, where's the hotel?"

"Here, o' course! Bunker's Family Diner and Bed & Breakfast! Didn't ya see the sign?"

I was never a thorough reader. Rach had the brains in this relationship.

"Right. I guess I'll just get our stu-"

BANG.

"Nonsense, nonsense! It's so wet out there!"

Barny waves over Millie and I cringe as I anticipate what he might do.

"Millie! Dear, why dont'cha get these girls their belongings? They're staying with us tonight! Aint that great!"

Millie's glare is so sharp that Rachel abandons her no contact rule and grabs my arm.

BANG.

"It's fine I can get i-"

"Nonsense, nonsense!"

I timidly hand over the car keys. Millie huffs. Rachel shrinks.

BANG.

Great.

A/N: I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry for the lack of update! I lost power during the hurricane and just had too much going on :(.

Every time I get a review or story alert or favorite as an email it makes my day SO MUCH brighter. Thank you! Tackle hugs!

As always, your feedback is very much appreciated! Especially with what you want to see happen, sometimes my brain doesn't have ideas as quickly as my fingers type. Does that make sense?

ALSO. I'M SUPER DUPER EXCITED FOR GLEE SEASON 3. WHO ELSE IS SUPER DUPER EXCITED? MEEEEEEE.