God only knows

Author's Note: Hi! Sorry the chapter is so short, I'm just trying to get a feel for this, I'll try and upload another chapter soon if people like it. The title is taken from "God only Knows" by Joss Stone. It's an absolutely gorgeous song.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, the characters, or anything/one referenced in this story.

It's a Thursday afternoon when Quinn first meets her. Well, not meets exactly. Kurt and Rachel are out being far too theatrical for a 3pm on a Thursday, and faced with an empty apartment Quinn quickly comes to the decision that she'd rather roam the streets taking photographs for her Streets of New York project than listen to the echoing rattle of the pipes in the ancient building. At times like this Quinn likes to hang her camera around her neck, plug her ipod in and get lost in the joint artistic beauty of New York City and the playlist she's comprised specifically for moments like this. Now looking back fondly several months on Quinn will be inclined to see what happens next as fate, but at the time, with it being such a minor irritation and all, she chalks it up to nothing more than bad luck. And what happens is her ipod runs out of power. It sounds like nothing, and Quinn simply pulls out her earphones, winds them around the body of the device and slips it into her bag, but it means that Quinn is no longer lost in the melodic world on shuffle inside her head and fully aware of her surroundings. Its two minutes further down the road when they meet, sort of, and Quinn feels her long before she sees or hears her, she feels her in the way that art is attracted to art. And the girl ahead of her leaning against the bus stop with her ipod in drumming her fingers against the frame of the shelter and moving almost imperceptibly to the beat in her ears is made of music. It's like a siren call to Quinn and she can't look away. She doesn't know how long she's been staring before, of their own accord, her hands raise her camera to her eyes and snap a photo of the girl at the bus stop. She only realises what she's doing when the bright flash of the camera startles her out of her stupor. It also seems to draw the attention of her subject as the girl ceases her gentle rhythmic movements and turns to look at her, and odd, curious sort of an expression on her face. She doesn't look angry, but Quinn is so embarrassed that she turns on her heel and runs all the way back to the loft she shares with Kurt and Rachel, bursting though the locked door in a flurry of keys and limbs and flinging herself into a ball on her bed.

Approximately twenty minutes later when she has recovered from the experience and the brilliant red, she's not sure that's due to blushing or exertion, has faded from her cheeks Quinn admits to herself that she might have overacted slightly and pads softly to the fridge for a bottle of water. She's not sure what caused such an extreme reaction in her. Sure she was a little hot tempered in her youth, Rachel and Kurt know that better than anyone, but she's grown up a lot since then and her temperament has mellowed out considerably in that time. Shaking her head to herself Quinn tosses the empty bottle in the recycling bin and grabs her camera on the way to her dark room.

The dark room itself is little more than a cupboard. It only has the one heavy fire door and no windows of any description, leaving the room pitch black until artificially lit. Originally it had been intended for use as a small walk in wardrobe, but neither Kurt nor Rachel could agree on who deserved the space more (Rachel's room is bigger, but Kurt's has more wardrobe space) so When Quinn moved in it was agreed she could convert the space to a dark room. Photography is, after all, her profession. Quinn chuckles to herself at the memory. Her parents had been hoping that by the times she had finished her Law degree at Yale she would have grown out of her desire to go into photography. Quinn has always know this was her calling, it's just in the way she sees things, like she's made of artistic insight. Just like the girl at the bus stop was made of music. Quinn frowns and pegs the final photo up to dry, watching as the image of the girl clarifies on the glossy paper. She sighs to herself, the image isn't going to dry out any faster if she stares at it, and heads out the door, grabbing her sketchpad and pencils as she goes. Obsessing over this girl won't do her any good, heck, she'll probably never see her again. It's only the deprived of a subject, but the thought of never seeing the music girl again leaves Quinn with a tiny, uncomfortably empty feeling deep in her check. She shakes her head again, she gave up this sort of silliness when she stopped being Lucy, and runs the pencil across the thick paper in soft, deliberate strokes.

A.N Okay, thanks for reading. Please read and review with what you think. Is it worth continuing with? I haven't done any writing for a while, and I don't think I've ever written any romantically themed Quinntana, so comments would really be appreciated.