Title: What I Couldn't Find

Author: mermaiddrunk

Rating: T (for now)

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, nor any of the characters. Don't make me say it again, it hurts. Although I do own the tiny human being in this story.

Summary: Post-high school Rachel and Quinn meet up by a happy coincidence and with the help of music, a four year old and a few familiar faces, they find themselves on a steady journey towards that elusive thing called a 'second chance."

A/N: So I posted this on Tumblr about a week ago and after last night's Faberrific scene and glorious premiere, I decided to finally get my crap together and open an account. This is my first Faberry fic, so go easy. And reviews? Reviews are loved, snuggled and fed a steady diet of cookies and nutella, Don't hesitate to give them a good home :D

Chapter One

Quinn is halfway down the breakfast aisle, convinced that companies have begun just colouring cubes of sugar and started calling it cereal when she realises that the incessant babbling behind her has stopped. It's a sinking dread that begins in her belly and claws its way up to her throat until she feels as though she can't breathe. Her eyes immediately scan the aisle, but it's empty, save for an old woman who looks like she can barely hobble let alone abduct a child. He was there just a moment ago, Quinn thinks, as she races down, past the Apple Jacks and the Cap'n Crunch. Her eyes begin to water and she grits her teeth. Keep it together, Fabray she thinks savagely while she stares down the long passage way of bustling customers. He couldn't have gotten far she reasons as she runs down the next aisle. A thin blonde haired woman with a baby girl walks by and Quinn grabs her arm, startling the stranger.

"Excuse me, h-have you seen a little boy?" her voice is trembling. "He-he's four-years old. Blond hair past his chin."

The woman shakes her head sympathetically. "No, I'm sorry. You should ask them to make an announcement if you've lost your son."

"Oh he's-" she begins, then bites down on her bottom lip and just nods. She knows she should probably find the manager, but her heart is racing and all she really wants to do is scour every inch of the shopping centre for the missing toddler. She brushes past the woman and makes her way towards the dairy counter when she hears a very distinct voice. Her pounding heart suddenly feels as if it's about to slam through her ribcage.

"My favorwte is swawbewwy but mama says I can only have it-" Quinn's eyes zero in on the blonde toddler pointing towards the ice-cream counter. She's rushing towards him and scooping him up in her arms so quickly that she hardly notices the brunette woman who'd been crouching in front of the boy, listening to his tales of ice-cream preference. All she can focus on is the warm comforting weight of the squirming toddler in her arms. "Oh buddy, buddy, buddy. You scared me," she murmurs into the soft space between his neck and shoulder.

"You can't do that again," she says, pulling the boy away slightly, so that she's able to look into his big green eyes. "You can't just go running off. Anything could have happened to you. What if someone had taken you, huh?"

The boy has the sense to look apologetic, "Sowwy," he replies with a pout that washes away any anger she may have been feeling. "I was talkin' to the lady," he continues, pointing behind him.

Quinn's gaze finally falls past the boy to the woman who's standing rather awkwardly to one side, watching this reunion with wide-eyed wonder. The lecture that Quinn is about to give the toddler about 'Stranger Danger' flies out of her head as her gaze connects with the other woman. The woman who was definitely not a stranger.

"Hello Quinn," Rachel Berry says, smiling in that way that makes you feel like you're the only person left on the planet.

Quinn has had a lot of unexpected things happen in her 26 years of existence. Joining a high school glee club, unplanned pregnancy, changing her major to art in her sophomore year of college, just to mention a few, but somehow running into Rachel Berry in a Wal-Mart in downtown Boston on a Thursday evening definitely makes her top five list.

"Rachel!" she adjusts the wriggling toddler on her hip and hopes to God she doesn't look as flustered as she feels. "Hi! Long time."

"Yes." Quinn doesn't miss the way Rachel's eyes dart between her face and the face of the tiny human currently attached to her side. "Eight years and two months to be exact," Rachel says. "I mean, that was the last time we saw each other. High school graduation. And the night of Noah Puckerman's graduation-" the brunette flushes and looks down. "That was," she clears her throat, "I mean the last time we saw each other was then. Which was eight years and two months ago. You look great," she finishes in one breath, waving a hand at a nonplussed Quinn.

"Er, thanks?" The blonde chews on her lower lip as she appraises the diva, unsure how to proceed. They hadn't left high school as the rivals they were in sophomore year, but they sure as hell weren't what you'd call friends. Well, except for the incident at Puck's party, which was a different level of awkward altogether. So for Quinn to be standing here, staring at the older Rachel Berry, a Rachel Berry who it seemed somewhere along the line to have learned how to take advantage of that firm little body of hers, and feeling nervous and…fluttery made little sense. Sure, Rachel was sort of famous now, what with her recent Tony win and her burgeoning film career, but to be honest, none of that really mattered to Quinn. So what if she went to watch Rachel's first Broadway performance twice when it first opened. So what if she made sure to PVR the Tony's because she was working the night it was on? That didn't mean that Rachel's star status affected her in the least. So right now, she can't really fathom why the short brunette is making her heart race.

"I wanna get down," the little boy in her arms wiggles about, breaking her out of her reverie.

"Whoa, kiddo. Uh-uh." Quinn hoists him up further and looks him dead in the eye. "You, buddy, are a danger to society. I can't have you running around."

"Whyyyy?" he whines, voicing the question fundamental to every four-year old's existence.

"Because a giraffe might come along and eat you," she counters simply, eliciting an amused giggle.

"Giwaffes can't eat people, silly!"

"Sure they can." Quinn says, squishing her finger against his nose. "In fact, little boys are their favourite snack after peanut butter, so you better not run off again."

The little boy nods, wide-eyed and unsure. "'Kay."

"So if I let you down and allow you to pick an ice-cream, you promise not to go anywhere?"

"I pwomise."

"Okay." She lowers him to the ground. "Hey," she says, before he toddles off. "Did you introduce yourself to Rachel?"

The blonde boy turns to Rachel and lifts his chin comically high. "'Sup?"

Rachel almost doubles over in laughter, but Quinn's eyes are wide in mortification.

"Who taught you to say that?" She shakes her head at the boy, "You know what, never mind, I think I have a pretty good idea." She wriggles her brows at the toddler. "C'mon, do it like we practiced, little man."

Puffing out his chest, the toddler walks up to Rachel who is just catching her breath and extends his chubby little hand. "Hi, I'm Max Fabway. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Rachel beams down at him and takes his hand in hers. "Well hello, Max. I'm Rachel. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He stares at her blankly for a moment before turning back to Quinn. "'Kay, I want ice-cweam now."

The blonde chuckles despite herself. "You go pick out one you want." She watches him move off next to her to where he can stare at the frozen desserts through the glass.

"You're amazing with him," Rachel says and Quinn's gaze snaps back to her. She feels suddenly exposed and vaguely embarrassed. She hadn't meant to show so much of herself in front of Rachel.

"Yeah, well," she shrugs self-consciously. "He's a pretty amazing kid." She watches Rachel's eyes cloud over with something she can't quite place.

"How did you come up with the name Max?" the diva finally asks.

Quinn frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Well is it short for something?"

Quinn scrunches up her brow like she has to think about it. "Um, Maximillian." She rolls her eyes slightly noticing Rachel's befuzzled look. "Yeah, I know pompous right? His mom named him after-"

"His mom?" Rachel looks more confused than ever.

Quinn nods. "Uh, yeah my-" Her eyes widen as she realises the source of Rachel's confusion. "Wait, you thought that I was-you thought Max was mine?"

Rachel looks from the blonde toddler, still eagerly eyeing the ice-cream to Quinn who is gaping at her like she's grown a second head. "Well Quinn, I think it's a pretty fair assumption to make considering the obvious physical resemblance and the fact that, well that you clearly hold a great deal of affection for the child. I suppose I just assumed that-"

"Berry!" Quinn cuts her off with a raised eyebrow. One so reminiscent of their high school days, that Rachel instantly shuts her mouth. Sensing the brunette's change in attitude, she quickly schools her face back into a more placid expression.

"Max is my sister's kid," Quinn says with a sigh. "He's my nephew."

Rachel's mouth makes a little 'oh' shape and Quinn can't help but notice the perfect fullness of her lips. She wonders what they'd-

The first few bars of some Broadway number that sounds vaguely familiar echoes around them and Rachel starts digging into her purse before pulling out her phone. "Hello? James, hi. Yeah, just stocking up." She gives Quinn an apologetic smile before taking a few steps away.

Rachel Berry at 26 is…something else, Quinn admits to herself, as she watches the shorter woman animatedly speak to whoever was on the other end of the line. Clad in a tight-fitting jeans and a simple grey sweater, the singer looked casual yet…Quinn cocks her head if as she's triying to place it. There's something different. She lacks the urgent, overzealous energy she had in high school. Instead it's replaced with confidence and self-assurance. It's like she's stopped standing on her tippy-toes desperately reaching out for the cookie jar she wanted because she's learnt to bake, Quinn muses. Success looks good on Rachel, she thinks as the brunette yells into the phone and paces, her left hand casually slipping into the back pocket of her jeans. Was Rachel always this hot, she wonders absently? Because something about the way she-Whoa. The blonde swallows. She is so not perving over Rachel Berry. It's PTSD, she decides. She's still traumatised after losing Max. They say that near-death experiences are often accompanied by feelings of sexual arousal. Something about the need to feel alive. Well, almost losing her baby nephew has obviously triggered some degenerate part of her brain and now she's feeling…frisky. That's all it is, Quinn tells herself.

Rachel walks towards her with a rueful half-smile. "Sorry about that. My director." She rolls her eyes. "He insists on shooting one of the scenes on a dairy farm despite my vehement protests that we could recreate the shot on a green screen with no additional costs to the budget and no need for the inhumane depiction of animal suffering."

"Oh you're here for a film?" Well that explains what she's doing in Massachusetts.

"I am," Rachel nods. "It seems shooting in Boston is cheaper than LA." She gives a little half shrug before looking down at her phone. "Quinn, as much as I've enjoyed catching up," Rachel looks up to catch her gaze and Quinn once again feels that peculiar fluttering of her heart as her eyes meet Rachel's chocolate-coloured ones. "And I really have. I fear I must be off. I've got an early call tomorrow and I need to get the appropriate amount of rest."

Quinn finds herself nodding slowly, not quite knowing what to say. What does one say to a person after eight years of distance before losing them again to the passage of time? 'Check ya later' doesn't quite seem appropriate.

"I-uh, I guess I'll see you around, Rachel." She tries to smile and hopes it doesn't come out as a grimace considering her lips feel rather like jelly.

"Bye Quinn." Rachel gives her a small wave before backing off. "Bye Max!" she calls out to the little boy whose hands are pressed up against the cold glass of the ice-cream counter.

"Okay bye!" he yells back, not once turning around and Quinn wonders if he even knows who he's saying goodbye to.

She watches as Rachel retreats and wants to call after her, wants to stop her, god knows why, she has no idea what more she could possibly say to Rachel Berry. But somehow, she feels like this is a chance, a chance to do what, she's not sure. But it's like that thing she remembers reading about once, in her third year college seminar, something about the inner voice and listening to what it was telling you. At the time, she tried her best to ignore it, because her inner voice was not telling her what she wanted to hear, but right now, right now it's practically screaming at her to stop Rachel. She's about to call out, when the diminutive brunette turns around.

Quinn practically holds her breath as Rachel approaches, a shaky smile gracing her face. "So um, I was thinking," Rachel looks past Quinn, or she would have, if she was tall enough, so she just ends up kind of staring at the taller girl's chest.

"You were thinking? Wow, that's a feat," Quinn raises a brow teasingly causing Rachel to roll her eyes.

"I was thinking," she enunciates, looking up at Quinn with a smirk. "That you're sort of the only person I know in Boston, other than my cast and crew and well, they can be…tiresome," she explains. "So I thought that perhaps we could, well you and I, at least you could-"

"Spit it out, Berry." Quinn looks at her expectantly.

"I thought maybe we could hang out sometime. You know, when I'm not filming and you're free. I mean, you don't have to. I know we were never close really. I mean there was that one time, but that was just, I mean I never really thought it meant any-"

"Rachel-" Quinn cuts her off before she can go any further. She can practically feel the blood rising up her cheeks as Rachel threatens to discuss one of the most regrettable moments of her life. "That would be great," she says with a smile. "Why don't you give me your number and we can arrange something?"

Rachel beams and Quinn suddenly wonders if this is such a good idea after all. They exchange numbers and then she's gone, leaving Quinn standing under florescent lights in the middle of the dairy section. A tug on her skirt has her looking down and she ruffles her fingers through Max's tousled blonde hair.

"Can we go now?" he asks in a tired voice that suggests it's time for his nap.

"Yeah," Quinn says, picking him up and snuggling him for a moment. "Hey, did you pick a flavour?"

"Yup," the boy says decisively. "I want Bewwy!"

For some unfathomable reason, this makes Quinn dissolve into a fit of giggles.