Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.
A/N: Okay, guys, this is just a preview. I don't intend on adding any more stories to my list until 'Color Me Confused' and 'Playing Games' are finished, but I wanted to see if you guys thought I should continue with this one. So please let me know in feedback if it's any good, and if it's not, I'll toss it out. ;) Also, this has a little bit of a supernatural/magic thing going on in the beginning, which is why it's AU. Thanks, you guys are so awesome. :)
The future looked dismal.
Not for Rachel personally, of course. No, she'd already been accepted to Julliard and she would be on her way there two weeks before September. Her dads were already stockpiling her with dorm-friendly furniture and a laptop that was more compatible with Julliard's network and hook-ups. She'd graduated in the top two percent of her class—with honors, of course—and with plenty of scholarships to help her dads out with the expense of such a prestigious school. In fact, she'd been offered free rides to several of the colleges she'd considered. But as soon as the white envelope with Julliard's name on it arrived, Rachel's heart was irreversibly set.
So why was she so miserable?
Well, there were many reasons. One, which was the most important—much to her own vexation—was that her friends weren't happy. Yes, friends. Multiple, in fact, and all of them in glee. It wasn't that Rachel minded having friends, per se. To be perfectly truthful, she loved it. There was always someone there for her to cry on, to shop with, to chat with, and three years ago it had all been so new to her. Three years ago she had no friends, only herself. Which was what led her to her current vexation.
Before glee, Rachel had no ties to anyone. No one to be sad for but herself. Well, and her dads, but when were they ever sad? Only when she was sad, and then she couldn't be sad for them for being sad for her. But now she had eleven wonderful friends to be sad with and for, and it was so horrible for her ambition, because all she wanted to do was stay with them as long as possible and fix everything for them instead of rushing off to New York to leave them all behind. But, in all honesty, it was unfixable. Even if she did stay.
Artie and Tina broke up over a year and a half ago. The cause was simply this: Artie sided with Finn, and Tina sided with Rachel. Both Finn and Rachel were wracked with guilt over the argument that imploded the couple. They tried to fix it, but Tina wasn't just tired of Artie's endless devotion to his male friends over her. She was tired of his chauvinistic tendencies and his incessant moodiness.
The months and months of watching her dance without him had taken their toll, and Artie was seldom able to watch her without becoming a ball of self-pity and bitterness. And instead of taking comfort in Tina, he lashed out against her, slowly creating cracks in a wall that would eventually crumble into dust. The result made things worse than ever between Finn and Rachel.
After the breakup and Tina's refusals to return to him, Artie gradually came to the realization that she wouldn't be coming back this time. And he sank into a deeper depression than Rachel had ever seen him in, until there was hardly a glimmer left of who he used to be. Tina took no notice and focused harder than ever on her ballet and her singing, but her grades began to slip. Not much, but just enough.
She and Mike dated briefly, but that ended in disaster, too—with the side effect of Tina losing her virginity. When Artie found out, he nearly lost it. If it wasn't for glee, Rachel was sure he would've.
Tina received a few scholarships, and she was planning on going to the University of Toledo. It certainly wasn't her first choice, but it would do. Rachel might've been concerned about the change of environment if Tina was the same shy girl she'd been three years ago, but the heartache she'd suffered had turned her hard—at least outwardly—and she would be fine. But Artie? He was doomed to stay in Lima, locked away in a room dank with acrimony.
Things weren't much better for Mike, or Matt, for that matter. During his train wreck of a fling with Tina, Mike became convinced he'd be able to do the same thing as her—fly on scholarships for dancing. So he quit football. But there weren't many scholarships out there for being able to pop-and-lock, and he'd ended up with little choice but to drag himself off to the nearest community college with his newest tattooed girlfriend.
Matt didn't fare any better, but not because he quit football. No, he stayed on, but not one scout noticed his potential. There was no way he could make it into a university without the scholarships; he just didn't have the grades. He had no prospects except what Mike had—community college. Until his father was laid off from the auto company he was working at. And now he was damned to work at the local McDonald's, a spectacle for the delight and mocking of McKinley High students for as long as he worked the window; his only flicker of 'hope' was the chance to become a manager, where no one would see him.
Santana was fine. Or, at least, that's what she kept telling everyone. Cheerleading—with the distinct help of healthy bones defending her from injury and birth control protecting her from Quinn's fate—had gotten her the scholarships she'd wanted. Now she was out of Ohio and on a plane to become what Rachel was sure would be the best head cheerleader those Dallas girls had ever seen. There was just one problem.
Brittany was staying in Lima. Obviously, she didn't have the grades to go anywhere, even though she did have scholarships from cheerleading. She'd begged Santana to take her with her. Right in front of glee, when Santana announced her acceptance, Brittany broke down in tears and begged and pleaded with her. She was lost without her, she loved her, and she was tired of Santana hiding behind their sexual escapades. Santana refused her, and it broke Brittany. Everyone but the stubborn woman herself could see it broke Santana, too.
Kurt was keeping Brittany at his house for the time being. It calmed her to be near someone who was so much a part of the family she'd built in glee. But things weren't going too smoothly for Kurt, either.
After his first boyfriend, a boy by the name of Kevin, Kurt became quite the…gay man's man. Which was what broke him and Kevin up in the first place. When Kurt learned he did, in fact, have appeal to men who were gay, he couldn't resist flirting and teasing, and it tore Kevin up until he couldn't take it anymore. Kurt pretended to take the breakup in stride, dating this boy and that boy. Secretly, it broke him as badly as Brittany was breaking now. So, Rachel supposed, it made sense for the two to take comfort in one another.
Noah…well, Noah's case was a little different. After Quinn gave Beth to Shelby—who (as far as Rachel could tell) had disappeared off the face of the planet, or at least out of Ohio—he broke all the promises he'd made to Quinn. She took it in stride, resigned to her fate, but that only made Noah wilder about it. It wasn't that he started throwing people in dumpsters or giving them slushie facials again (not the people in glee, anyway). It was that he became even more of a fanatic for sex. Which was hard to do, if you were Noah Puckerman, but somehow he managed it.
And eventually, as they'd all feared, he contracted HIV. Even though, after Quinn, he always used protection, it was never one hundred percent safe. It destroyed his mom, and she might've kicked him out if it hadn't been for the financial support he offered. He ended up cutting sex cold turkey, and instead threw his excess energy into his more aggressive tendencies. Rachel knew for a fact that he'd participated in a couple of paid fights, but mostly he focused on his above-ground pool cleaning business to get him money and fights in the cafeteria to cool himself down. He didn't graduate, and as soon as the ceremony was over, he bid them all goodbye—and Rachel swore she saw tears in his eyes—and hopped on the first bus that came his way.
Mercedes lost her voice. Oh, it wasn't totally gone. She could still carry a tune, but it was never the same after she contracted pneumonia. It killed her; it killed Rachel. In fact, after a shouting match in which Mercedes claimed Rachel must be happy as a clam that she'd never have to fight for another solo, they shared in their grief over the loss of such a beautiful gift. Mercedes recovered better than the others from their blows. She instead focused on school work and got plenty of scholarships, and she was mostly happy to be going to the University of Michigan.
Finn was a longer story. After the loss at Regionals, he and Rachel were together for about two minutes. All right, perhaps longer than that, but the basis of it was that Rachel didn't know what she wanted yet. She'd just broken up with Jesse, after all, and she wasn't ready to move right into another relationship. That lasted the summer, and then she gave in to his puppy dog eyes and his longing looks and they stayed together until Sectionals. They broke up then over everything—her bossiness, his dullness, her moodiness, his thoughtlessness. Anything you could think of, really.
Rachel cried to Tina, Finn to Artie. And after that debacle, they blamed one another. This growing grudge lasted until Sectionals the next year, when Finn kissed her. He apologized—for everything—and she couldn't do anything but forgive him because she missed him. Missed being his friend. And she would've done anything to have that back.
And now Finn was going to Ohio State with a football scholarship and Rachel was going to Julliard, and all the fervor of their relationship had utterly died out. There was nothing left for them now but friendship—if they could even manage that—and they both knew it, and now they had no idea what to do.
And, of course, there was always Quinn. Rachel never became terribly close to Quinn, but she knew all of her trials and tribulations, mostly through Brittany or Tina or Mercedes. And occasionally Santana, with whom she'd developed an uneasy truce based on mutual respect.
After Quinn gave Beth away, she'd been resigned. To everything. To Noah, to the unexpected pain that came with giving away her first child, to her mother's distance, to her parents's divorce, to her future—or lack thereof, in her eyes. She remained this way all summer, but thankfully for her, Sue Sylvester wasn't going to watch her once-glorious head cheerleader make a pathetic fool of herself. She welcomed Quinn back onto the team, although she made sure to paint it like the blonde had come crawling back, and she'd just been merciful enough to take her in.
So Quinn's physical shape went back to what it was before the pregnancy, as did her attire. But she was never head cheerleader again, and the damage had already been done with her mother. They tried to mend things, but Quinn still stayed at Mercedes's for several weeks at a time, for almost a year, before she and her mother came to an understanding. Even then, they didn't grow close. It was like the relationship Rachel and Quinn shared, in a way. There was a truce, an acknowledgment of what the other expected, but the bridge was never gapped. Hell, it was hardly even built.
Quinn graduated in the top ten percent of the class. The stress of the pregnancy and all she'd been through had dragged her grades down, but only so much, and she had scholarships from cheerleading—although not as many as Santana—and scholarships from her grades—although not as many as Rachel—and she was going to the University of Wisconsin, and she was resigned. That was all she was nowadays. The fire never came back. 'Resigned' became all that Quinn once was.
And Rachel's heart broke for every single one of them. All she wanted to do was fix it. It was the most purely unselfish thing she'd ever wanted in her entire life. She wanted to fix them, all of them, and mend their hearts. But there was no way to do it, no way to turn back the clock, no way to bring back the fire. And she started to hate her life because their lives were so miserable in it, even with her scholarships, and Julliard, and her brand new laptop, and her green armchair on clearance, and her two consecutive Nationals wins. It wasn't worth it if her friends had to be so miserable.
If I had one chance…just one chance to fix it, she thought morosely, wiping a tear from her cheek.
And that was all it took for God to hear her, apparently, because then there was someone in the room. Rachel became aware of it immediately, because they sat on the mattress next to her and patted her shoulder comfortingly and said in a motherly, gravelly voice, "There, there, now don't fret."
Rachel bolted. She went as far as she could from that voice, across the room, splaying herself against the closet door as she tried to regain a normal breathing pattern. But it didn't get any better, because there was a woman in a spring blue dress sitting on her bed, wearing the most plainly earnest expression Rachel had ever seen on a person. Still, it didn't do anything to slow her racing heart, because the woman had appeared out of nowhere.
"Wh-who are you?" she demanded, hating the quiver in her voice. "I have a rape whistle!"
The woman laughed. "No need, Rachel. Now calm down, I'm not going to hurt you."
She couldn't stop the questions now. "How did you know my name? How did you get in here? Why haven't you answered my question? Who are you? I swear if—"
"Quiet," she said gently, and for the first time in her life, Rachel felt compelled to obey that command. "Very good. I'm a messenger from the Powers That Be."
Rachel's nose scrunched. "The who?"
"The Powers That Be. I've been sent to give you one chance to fix everything," the woman said simply.
Rachel stared at the woman. What the hell was going on? All right, so Rachel did believe a little bit in the supernatural. There was no other way to explain her own sixth sense, but she didn't believe in things like vampires or werewolves or warlocks or women in spring blue dresses who appear in your bedroom without warning, offering you things like chances to fix everything.
For a minute, she didn't know what to do. She could pull out her rape whistle and blow as hard as she could, but chances were her neighbors wouldn't hear it, and her dads were away. She could try to lunge past the woman, but if she could randomly appear in locked rooms, chances were she was also a lot faster—and stronger—than Rachel. Plus, the brunette had a definite size disadvantage.
So Rachel decided the only option left to her was to talk her way out of it. And from what she'd read in fantasy books, it wasn't a good idea to accept whatever a strange, beautiful woman you just met offered you. They usually ended up almost killing you at the end of the book.
"Wh-what do you mean?" she managed, frowning at the woman.
She started to relax a little, not pressing so firmly up against the closet door, but she didn't move any closer. The woman smiled.
"If you accept this offer, the Powers That Be will send you back to make a choice that will reverse the misery you find yourself and your friends in now," she said gently.
The brunette stared in disbelief this time. "One choice? That's it? That's all it takes to make Santana see she needs Brittany, too, and make Kurt stop being a man whore and give Mercedes her voice back and fix things between Artie and Tina and—"
"Yes. One choice."
"That's ridiculous! One choice can't change the course of your life, let alone eleven other people's!" she blurted incredulously.
"Well, since you're so happy then…."
The woman stood, but Rachel's heart leapt and she called for her to stop before she realized she'd done it. The brunette worried her lip between her teeth. She couldn't help it; she was curious. And even though in all the fantasy books she'd read, this was what usually screwed the hero or heroine over—their curiosity—she forged ahead. She could always change her mind if she didn't like the way things progressed, right?
"You said one chance," Rachel said uncertainly. "What if I make the wrong choice and things are even worse than they are now?"
"That's always a risk," the woman allowed. "But I rather doubt you'll make the wrong choice. It's a rather simple choice, you see. You either do it, or you don't."
"What did I do the first time?" she asked, frowning.
She smiled. "Now, that I can't tell you. But I assure you you'll know when you arrive."
"At least tell me when you'd be sending me to. I can't make a proper judgment if I don't know."
"You will have a little time before the actual choice to get your bearings back," she said reassuringly.
Rachel considered this. One choice, one chance. It sounded like an easy enough deal. She would just pop back to whenever these 'Powers That Be' were sending her, make the right choice this time, and things would be all better. If what the woman was saying was true. She eyed the woman warily.
"What's the catch?" she asked suspiciously.
"It's too easy. All I have to do is make one choice and everyone's happy again? There has to be a string attached somewhere," Rachel said confidently.
The woman smiled again. "No catch. Just your choice."
She frowned. She still wasn't sure. What if it didn't work? What if this lady was just a crazy lock expert and Rachel was falling prey to one of her delusions? Maybe she was an escapee from the nearest asylum and she was going to kill Rachel if she said yes. For some reason, she didn't think so. Crazy serial killers didn't go around wearing nice spring blue dresses and offering chances to fix lives, right?
"I'll need your answer soon, Rachel. Do you want the chance?"
Rachel bit her lip again. If she could make the choice, the right one…. Artie and Tina would be fixed, and Mike wouldn't be going to community college, and Matt wouldn't be working at McDonald's, and Santana wouldn't be breaking both her and Brittany's hearts, and Kurt wouldn't be losing himself, and Noah would be with his friends—where he belonged—without HIV, and Mercedes would have her voice back, and Finn and Rachel wouldn't be so screwed up, and Quinn could be happy again.
And even if all those things didn't happen, would it matter? Anything would be better than this, she decided.
Rachel felt dizzy. Really, really dizzy. She flailed her arms, wildly reaching for something to hold onto, and when she found it, she clung on for dear life until the spinning slowly ground to a halt. Her vision was all blurry, so she kept holding onto whatever it was, trying to anchor herself. A bell rang nearby and she jumped, blinking rapidly, and soon she realized where she was.
McKinley High, at her locker. And the light coming through the windows was bright and people had backpacks over their shoulders, so Rachel quickly came to the conclusion that it was afternoon, at the end of the day. That still didn't help her peg down when in a larger sense. Was it two weeks ago? A few months? A year?
She shifted her grip and realized what was in her hand—her locker door. She eagerly whipped it further open and scanned the inside, searching for signs to point out when she was. There were pictures of her and her dads littered all over it, and a little calendar, but nothing indicative of glee. Which meant it could be any time before Sectionals of sophomore year, because that's when she first added a glee picture to the montage.
There was a loud bang to her right and Rachel jumped again, looking to see what happened. And there was Noah, snarling at a horrified Jacob Ben Israel as he cowered against a locker, and laughing it up with his football buddies. She sighed. That didn't tell her anything, since Noah had never stopped being mean to Jacob. Not that she could blame him.
Despite the fact that he'd just rammed someone's head into an open locker, Rachel desperately wanted to run up and hug Noah. After all, he'd still been doing that when he left, and he always had a hug saved for her anyway. Plus, he'd ditched her and she missed him horribly, but she kept herself reined in. Pre-Sophomore-Sectionals Noah wouldn't hug her, even if they'd already dated.
She had to figure out what she was doing next. None of the glee kids besides Noah were anywhere in sight, as far as she could tell. People were still swarming past her toward the exits and crowding in the halls before they left.
Even seeing the glee kids probably wouldn't have told her much, though. She wasn't friends with them yet, she reminded herself, so it wasn't like she was waiting for one of them to go shopping with or anything. Unless this was right before Sectionals, because she was closer with Tina by then, and she had hugged Mercedes, and she and Quinn were sort of—wait a second!
That was it! All Rachel had to do was find Quinn and she would know when it was that the woman had landed her judging by the size of her stomach! Determined now, she shut her locker and turned on her heel to hunt down the blonde, hoping she hadn't already left. She tended to ditch as soon as possible when she was pregnant, but maybe—just maybe—Santana and Brittany were holding her hostage.
Rachel pushed through the crowd to the end of the hall, keeping her eyes peeled for a blonde head as she rounded the corner. She grunted when someone crashed into her, and she stumbled back on her heels and tried to regain her equilibrium. For her, it was the first time in a while. Since glee had won Nationals, they hadn't been labeled as quite the losers they used to be, and people usually moved now when she went down the hall. She wasn't used to people trying to run her over.
Once she'd gained her feet, Rachel looked up to find the culprit and—to her horror—there was Quinn the cheerleader. And not Quinn the barely pregnant cheerleader, or the more familiar Quinn the resigned cheerleader. This was Quinn the Head Bitch.
Rachel could see it in her eyes. They were cold and dark and penetrating, and every time they pierced you it made you want to whimper and cower on the ground until she went away. Rachel had never been one to do such a thing, but that didn't mean she didn't feel it. It made her sad to see the sneer land on a hard face that she knew would one day grow sad and compliant, almost sadder than it made her imagining the years turning those eyes tired and sad and dull.
Feeling so sad was her mistake, though, because Quinn never missed anything. Even after years of relentless damage to her spirit, she still read people like no one Rachel knew, except maybe Brittany. But this Quinn didn't keep quiet about it or ignore it. This was the captain of the Cheerios, and the melancholy sympathy she caught in Rachel's gaze immediately disgusted her and she shoved her aside, into a row of lockers.
Rachel felt the jolt like a thousand fists pounding into her shoulder, and she knew she would later have a bruise. For the third time since she'd arrived in the past, she had to try and recover her balance.
After Quinn passed with her cackling entourage, the brunette experienced a moment of blind panic. What if that had been the moment she was supposed to change? She definitely hadn't done much differently, if that moment had happened at all. And she certainly couldn't remember Quinn shoving her into a locker before. At least not at the end of the day.
"Rachel?" a voice called. "Hey, I waited in the auditorium, but you didn't show up. Are you okay?"
Rachel looked up sharply and there was Finn, smiling but worried-looking. She couldn't help the warm smile that overtook her at the sight of Finn. It wasn't one of adoration, as she used to give him in those days, or of the love she would later give him. It was relief she was feeling.
Because Finn looked happy and bouncy the way she liked to remember him. And even though she knew he'd later become tired, like Quinn had, and frustrated, Rachel was glad to see him this way, even for a second.
She shook herself when he smiled uncertainly in reply. "Um. Yeah, of course!"
Finn's brow creased, but he nodded and walked with her back toward the auditorium when she strode to him. It took her a minute to realize that she should be peppier, bubblier, and all-around more chipper and chattier. So she started talking—she didn't know what about, she let her mouth do the work—but Finn relaxed and she suddenly realized exactly what day it was.
And what choice she had to make.
Rachel went through the motions of practicing with Finn, correcting him the way she knew, from years of experience, he liked and avoiding the ways that annoyed him. It was out of habit that she did it. She knew she should be doing exactly what she'd done then, but she couldn't remember every detail of the moments leading up to it. She only knew they had practiced, and then Finn had gotten hungry—and he did—and she'd already set up the picnic before their last class of the day.
When they sat, Rachel seriously considered putting things on hold and stopping the picnic before they got a chance to get to that part. But something told her she needed to keep going until it was time. So she smiled at him and moved his hand over his heart, and he put his thumb on hers, and the first time around she hadn't seen his eyes darken the way they did. She'd only seen him sober and knew he was looking at her lips and that she wanted him to kiss her. Now she could see the telltale signs of his growing arousal, the way he slid his thumb up and down hers. That particular movement would eventually become second-nature to him.
Rachel remembered feeling awkward the first time around. This time she felt nothing, except perhaps longing for a time that escaped her now.
She recalled the next part in vivid detail. She hurried to pour their drinks, making sure to tip back just enough to get the Cosmo on her upper lip. And Finn told her and wiped it off. His eyes got darker again. Now was when she was supposed to say it, while he was staring at her lips some more and aching to kiss her.
This was what it came down to. It didn't seem like such a big choice in the scheme of things. Either tell Finn he could kiss her if he wanted, or not. Like the woman told her, it was a simple choice—do it or don't. Rachel didn't.
But then Finn did something unexpected. He started to move forward to kiss her anyway, and she immediately forced a hand between them. His body jolted and his eyes flicked to hers.
Rachel thought fast, trying to come up with something to say to excuse her behavior. And then the words were spilling past her lips before she knew she'd decided on them.
"I really like you, Finn," she said sincerely. "Like a lot, as you could probably tell, since I've never been the most subtle person, especially when it comes to how I feel." He smiled a little, but mostly he just looked confused. "But I can't take that step with you. Not now, when glee is only getting its start. This kind of drama will only rock it, possibly right off its already delicate foundation. And I can't do that to the team."
She took a breath before she went on. "And there's a more important reason we can't do this. You have a girlfriend."
Finn's gaze dropped and, for the first time since her hand rose between them, he shrank back away from her. She could see the shame working its way through his system. She had to speak fast, because he would undoubtedly leave soon.
"A girlfriend who I already told I wouldn't go there with you, because I respect her right to you. She cares about you a lot, Finn, and I don't think either one of us wants to see her hurt."
Finn looked up in surprise then and Rachel bit her lip. She shouldn't have said that. She wouldn't have said that last bit about Quinn Fabray back then, because Quinn wasn't part of the team—the family—then. But it turned out to be all right.
Finn's gaze dropped again and he nodded once, shortly. "You're right. I'm sorry."
And then the scene turned blurry before her eyes and Rachel was very, very dizzy again.
Her vision was blurry, but Rachel knew she was in her room. The color of her walls was dominating her vision, and her bed sheets wrinkled under her fingers as she curled them. She took a deep breath and tried to clear her vision, blinking rapidly again, since that seemed to work last time. She was starting to get a headache from all the time travel and being shoved into lockers and such—though at least the pain in her shoulder was gone—and she wished she'd asked the woman what would happen after she made the choice. How would she know things had changed?
So far, nothing appeared to be different. Her room looked the same as she'd left it that morning, only the curtains were open. That was the only change Rachel noticed, but her vision wasn't clear yet and her head was pounding now. She slid closer to the edge of the bed and fumbled for her nightstand drawer to dig for some ibuprofen. Before her hand was halfway in, Rachel noticed a difference. A big one, actually—at least in her mind.
Rachel blinked again. This couldn't be right, could it? But no matter how much she blinked, the photo didn't change.
Her nightstand still had its lamp on it, and there was the picture of her and her dads at the seven thousand, four hundred and eightieth running of The Phantom of the Opera on Broadway, and next to it was the picture of glee club with their first Sectionals trophy, and directly next to that one of them with their most recent Nationals trophy. But in front of all of them, plain as the nose on her face, was a picture of her and Quinn Fabray.
Rachel might not have thought anything of it if not for two things. One, it was on her nightstand, in the place of honor. And two, Quinn and Rachel had never, ever had their picture taken together without the rest of glee club. But there they were, grinning at the camera. They were both in dresses, Rachel's black and Quinn's dark blue, and she realized with a jolt that that was the dress she'd worn for prom in her junior year. Quinn was resting her forehead against the side of Rachel's, and it looked like their arms were around each other.
Rachel almost snatched it off the nightstand to gape at it some more, but then she wondered: were there more odd pictures like this one in her room? She sat up slowly, still feeling a little vertigo, and turned to take a look around her new world. The messenger from the Powers That Be had certainly kept her promise, she thought. But before she could think anything more than that, she heard a groan from behind her.
She froze. Was the woman back? How did she keep getting in her room? And what did she want now? Was she going to congratulate her on a choice well made? Or tell her she'd screwed it up?
There was a feminine sigh and a warm, soft hand slipped up her back, under the sleep-shirt, and Rachel was paralyzed.
"Morning, baby," a voice mumbled sleepily.
Rachel stiffened even more—if that was possible. She knew that voice. The hand massaged its way up her back.
"What time is it?"
Rachel fell out of bed. Literally. She jumped away so fast her legs got tangled in the blankets and she careened and swerved and flailed and fell on her butt on the floor. And she didn't even feel it because she was too busy staring wide-eyed at the very alarmed Quinn Fabray lying in her bed.