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Your love is like a button.... (11/?)

Apr. 26th, 2010 | 11:50 am

Title: Your love is like a button, mine to keep
Author: paintedpaw89
Rating: R (for semxy scenes, language and content) and angst
Pairing: Rachel/ Quinn with minor Puck/ Finn, Artie/ Tina, and Santana/ Brittany Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Glee or the characters within, even though I love them.
Length: This chapter is over1,500
Spoilers: None, this is AU
Summary: Quinn is the top agent at a secret organization. Struggling with the death of her wife and child, her partner Artie's recent paralysis, and the daily rigors of work, Quinn eventually takes a mission that turns everything she's known for the past six years upside down.
A/N: This is the first fic I've published here so comments are appreciated :)

Chp 1     Chp 2     Chp 3     Chp 4     Chp 5     Chp 6     Chp 7     Chp 8     Chp 9     Chp 10




Last Chapter -
 
Quinn walks forward turning to take Rachel's hand. Her smile is warm and comforting, and Rachel feels something old and familiar ignite deep within her. They walk happily together into the lobby of MHND, hand in hand.


Until someone screams.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Until Rachel screams and shots echo in the background.

Rachel screams as Quinn's body falls lifeless to the floor, her brain five steps behind and not catching up. She rolls behind the lobby desk as more shots ring out. She can still see Quinn lying motionless on the floor.

What happened? Rachel shuts her eyes, trying to concentrate on what's going on instead of the fact that her wife may be dead. Again. Think!

An empty lobby, a swishy red skirt, a gun... She gazes up to see a dart in Quinn's neck and then calms down enough to notice the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Thank God. I don't think I could live through her death twice-

*click click*

Rachel turns her head to look up into the barrel of a gun held by a Cheerio.

WTF?! Cheerios?












Rachel had been MHND's top agent. She was smart, bright, and even though she talked to much, she thought really well on her feet.

Who knew?

Well....Schue knew.

Plus she had been trained in martial arts and gymnastics since she could walk. Rachel used to be able to survey a complicated situation in one blink and make sense of it. To doll out ninja moves without spilling her drink. To....well, you get the idea. Rachel was a bad ass.

And she loved it.

Even after being locked up in Terri Schuester's home for six years and having those abilities go dormant, they quickly snapped right back.

Push, block, kick, gun fires, twist gun out of hand, bash butt into nose, turn and run.

Her plan came together in the amount of time it would take a fly to flap its wings. It didn't take much longer to execute. The Cheerio was holding her bleeding nose as Rachel ran to try and pull Quinn to safety, being interrupted by another wave of Cheerios. She scrambles backwards shooting at her attackers. And she keeps missing!

'Damn it
! Q was always the shooter...Ah!'

The brunette flips between rows of computers, now running flat out into central command, dodging darts under desks and rolling about like 007 on crack. That's when she hears it.

“Rachel! 5 o'clock!”

She turns to the direction immediately, ready to fire, before noticing Finn waving her down. Rachel has to take cover as she scramble over to the back security office, MHND's new makeshift new quarters. Then she slides behind the turned over table and hears three tiny thuds hit the shield.

Rachel's first chance to breath is cut off by Finn hugging her.

“Hi Rachel! Oh, it's good to have you back.” He kisses her on the check and that small spot reserved in her heart for Finn's goofy smile melts a bit. Puck punches her in the shoulder  and smiles before volleying a few shots back against the Cheerios. Kurt is furiously working on a computer in the corner, a blonde ponytail bobbing behind him.

“Brittany?”

The girl tries to duck further behind Kurt, peering around his shoulder looking at Rachel with wide fearful eyes that are glimmering with tears. She keeps shaking her head back and forth, and Rachel can almost make out what she's whispering.  'She's not really there. Your best friend is dead. She's not really there B. Think of ducks...or puppies...”


Rachel crawls over to her and puts her hand out like Quinn did in the elevator. Brittany hesitates to touch her, whispering something about ghosts. When they do touch, she finds that she suddenly has a lapful of Brittany.

“ithoughtyouweredeadbutyouaren'tandi'msohappythankgod....because I really hate ghosts!”
“It's nice to see you too B.”she laughs, hugging her best friend. The hug returns Brittany  to her usual bubbly self and she gives the brunette her happiest smile. She bounds away to the table, pulling a big gun from behind her back and fired of a few rounds out the doorway.

Some things never change.











Quinn wakes up feeling like she tried to eat a chipmunk and then forgot to swallow. Her head is ringing, her wrists are sore, someone is snoring on her shoulder (Santana) and Sue Sylvester is stand before her barking out orders.

“Find the rest of those mouth breathers and capture them! Don't look at me like that you failure. You think this is hard?! Taking over Russia was hard! The only thing harder is the shell that Will Schuester is able to create with all that hair gel in his hair. Now go!”

Her old cheerio captain stands tall in all her track suit induced glory, back loaded with guns and eyes covered in dark aviator shades. Quinn laughs out loud at all of the absurdity of it all.

*Smack*

Sue is couching down, chewing on the end of her aviators, starring right into her face as Quinn maneuvers her jaw, trying to make the sting of the hit dissipate.

“Hi Coach.”
“Q. Thought you were dead.”
“Well....kinda was for a bit.” Sue stands and returns to watching the panel of monitors behind her.
“I see that your lesbionic witchcraft has brought that sorry excuse of a human being Raquel back to life.”
“Sue-” Another smack is delivered and all Quinn can see is stars for a moment before her ears start working again.
“-you traitor! To think I spent all that time! Nurturing you, pushing you to be better! And you turn into a lesbian and get pregnant! Smacks You stupid infantile whelp! Well! No more!” Sylvester hauls Quinn up, who's spitting blood, over to the monitors and slams her face on the screen. Quinn can't make out the audio, but she can clearly recognize her wife on the monochromatic screen.

“Do you see her, Q?” Quinn refuses to reply. Sue slams her head into the monitor again.
“Yes! Yes. Coach what are you-” Slam “Shut up.” Quinn's head is spinning from the hard hits, but all she can think about is Rachel and how she really can't stand all this shit today because she wants to find Maddie. Fuck.

“Soon, you're little brunette will return to the hellhole that she crawled out of, and I'll have a whole new team of cheerleaders-”
“What are you talking about?”
“I always thought you were the smart one Q. Proved me wrong. Fool me once-” Quinn doesn't hear Sue as her head starts repeatedly being bashed into the console as her ex-coach is angrily yelling what sounds like “haven't won a trophy since” and “pregnant” and “that stupid glee club.”

Her limp body is thrown to the side while Sue paces back and forth like a caged animal. When her Coach's gaze finally settles on her, fear bubbles up like vomit in Quinn's throat . Sue's face is splattered with her blood, her hair in wild disarray and her eyes burning with malice and hate and rage. Rage that twists her features into a sick crooked smile that echo fear deep with her. Instinct kicks in, the ex-cheerio trying to wriggle away with bound hands as the madwoman stomps towards her.



“And you, Blondie. You're gonna be my team captain again. And you're gonna love it. AHAHA and you won't even have a choice, none of you will-” Sue releases a cackle that should have only been found in horror movies as Quinn scrambles to pull her legs under her, anger fueling her movements, thoughts racing with plans.

“I would never-”
“YOU WON'T HAVE A CHOICE AND I DON'T CARE!” Quinn's leaning against the wall, her muscles coiling in fury as her ex-coach spits at her. Sue's twisted smile is right in her face, her hand gripping Quinn's jaw to make her meet wild eyes, poking her in the forehead. “Once I take control of your mind, you'll do whatever I want. You'll even be a better Cheerio because you won't complain or get tired or-”

Quinn's world tilts and she struggles to hold her balance as everything finally clicks. Back in high school, Sue had always threatened  joked about using mind control. Apparently that's what she had been spending her hovercraft money on.

McKinley's cheer leading squad hadn't won a competition after Quinn, Santana, and Brittany had left Cheerios for Glee Club. Sylvester had gone mad with the defeat as they continued to lose and Glee club became more prominent.

That meant, all the girls in uniforms running around shooting people were under mind control. And soon her teammates would be too.

Madison.What about her? What about Rachel?

Rachel.

“I'll have a squadron of elite crime fighters as Cheerios, and I'll get to rub it in Schuester's face!” gloats Sue. Quinn's vision is starting to blur and she having trouble keeping blood out of her eye. She tired, her hearing keeps zoning in and old, and her thoughts keep disintegrating between pulses of pain. Then Sue says Rachel's name and she's all focus.

“Rachel Berry will died before I ever let her on my team. So, Q, sit tight. I'll be right back.” A red tracksuit hovers close to her before she feels a pat on the head. Adrenaline surges through her veins, her legs coil like springs, and then there is the sound of a tiny pop.

The last things Quinn sees is a dart in her leg and Sue Sylvester walking away, towards her wife.

Rach....




Sue Sylvester turns to walk away, pulling a phone from her pocket and pressing speed dial. She holds the device next to her beautiful coiffed hair.

"Terri, Sue Sylvester."


(A/N - Sorry for the long wait on the update. I'll probably start posting on Mondays only until after finals week. Much love for the comments. :)  )

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Your love is like a button.... (10/?)

Apr. 20th, 2010 | 01:08 am

Title: Your love is like a button, mine to keep
Author: paintedpaw89
Rating: R (for semxy scenes, language and content) and angst
Pairing: Rachel/ Quinn with minor Puck/ Finn, Artie/ Tina, and Santana/ Brittany
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Glee or the characters within, even though I love them.
Length: This chapter is over1,500
Summary: Quinn is the top agent at a secret organization. Struggling with the death of her wife and child, her partner Artie's recent paralysis, and the daily rigors of work, Quinn eventually takes a mission that turns everything she's known for the past six years upside down.
A/N: This is the first fic I've published here so comments are appreciated :)

Chp 1     Chp 2     Chp 3     Chp 4     Chp 5     Chp 6     Chp 7     Chp 8     Chp 9


A/N: I'm so sorry for not updating! Life happens, and then I was in Ohio, and then school was like "I'm gonna kick your butt." Thanks for staying with me!





Quinn's mind reels at the name. Terri Schuester. “Terri Schuester.....Terri Schuester has my daughter?” Rachel nods, looking at her with sad stony eyes. Quinn is furious, a million thoughts about why and how running through her head, plans and schemes forming outlines like lightning. She turns to press Rachel for more information, some kind of lead or clue that she's been waiting for, but stops. She truly sees her wife for the first time since she's returned, the adrenaline affecting her focus and emotions finally wearing off. Her brown hair is matted and interwoven with leaves and twigs. Her normally bright brown eyes are dull and restraining tears. Her shoulders are hunched, her smile wilted, and she looked pale. She has never seen Rachel look so tired and defeated, not even during Maddie's first year that drove them both insane. So instead of questioning her, Quinn pulls her close, kisses her head, and carries her to the bathroom. She's surprised at how little she weighs and fights hard against the urge to ask questions.

There are more important things to take care of right now.



Rachel sinks into the feeling of Quinn, her warm body and strong muscles. She closes her eyes, resting for just a moment as Quinn moves through the house. The next thing she knows, Quinn is crouching down next to her,  a hot bath steaming in the background, asking her for her shirt. She nods, lifting her arms up as her wife carefully undresses her. Then she's being painstakingly lowered into the tub, Quinn talking to her in soft tones and helping to wash her. Rachel gets lost in it all. Emotions that she had bottled up for years become mixed within a swirl of fragmented thoughts and memories. She hasn't been physically touched at all in years, hasn't really had anyone talk to her other than herself for years; it almost feels as if she is a baby that is experiencing the world through touch for the first time.  As Quinn sits behind her, washing her, Rachel feels torn. She both revels and fears Quinn's touch, feels relief and guilt; the contradictions feel like they are tearing into her psyche again, just like they did for everyday of six years. The questions, the guilt, the 'what ifs' piling up so high that only the sound of her own voice can give her reprieve.

But Quinn's touch isn't harsh or striking like the thoughts that attack her. In fact, the healing caresses become like a shield, guarding Rachel from her own mind. It's the first time that she's had a moment of mental peace since being captured. Between the exhaustion, mental reprieve, warm water and Quinn's massaging hands, Rachel nods off into the first fit-less sleep she's had in a long time.

Quinn is sitting behind Rachel in the tub, her shorts and tank top getting wet, but she doesn't care. She's trying to sow back together her love, to clean away the dirt, to wash away time and memories with soap and kneeding fingers. Six years – six circles to trace on each palm,six kisses on each shoulder, six tiny “I love you”s as Quinn traces old and new wrinkles and rocks Rachel to sleep. As the water turns cold and dark, she empties it out of the tub. Rachel slowly wakes in her arms, her eyes brighter and happier,and  Quinn realizes that they both needed this kind of healing. And how much more they need -

Time.

They need so much more time, to fix themselves and each other. Time to trace every inch of skin and remember every memory. To make new memories. Time to sow their torn minds back in a working cloth and glue back together shattered hearts so they can beat again without pain.

Rachel's finger wraps around a long gold lock, twisting and untwisting it around her finger, a playful smile upon her face.

“Hi.” The brunette watches Quinn's smile form, turning into something less broken and containing more of that old spark.

“Hi there.”









They spend the rest of the weekend in bed, Quinn cooking whenever Rachel is hungry – which was all the time, the woman was famished- and them eaching breakfast in bed, waiting for monday. They couldn't really do anything anyway, the agency was closed on weekends.
“I just don't understand how an organization that works to save the world is closed on weekends!” huffed Rachel. Both women wanted to find their little girl, but they would just have to wait a little longer.

“We've waited six years. A few more days won't change anything.” I hope.

So they were laying in bed, cuddled up together.
Rachel trying to throw eggs into Quinn's mouth and failing miseriably.

“Stop! Ahaha, stop Rach.”
“I want to at least get one in! It's not fair that you got all yours in.”
“That's what she said.” Quinn snickers and Rachel glares at her. The glare doesn't last long and turns into a giggle. “Really? Did you really just say that?” The brunette tackles her and the two wrestle across the bed, plates and blankets falling off the bed, until Quinn's lips stop the fight.

Rachel buries her fingers into her wife's hair, sighing into the kiss, their naked bodies sliding in place, fitting together. She wraps her leg around Quinn's waist as she kisses her again, all soft lips and gentle pressure. Rachel pulls away to rub their noses together and is rewarded with an intoxicating smile from her wife. She nuzzles into her neck and grips her tighter, happy and nervous and curious. But afaird.

“Q?”
“Hmmm?”
“What.....what happened....while, um, you know...” Quinn tilts her head to listen as Rachel fumbles over her words into silence. Quinn hugs her close, realizing what her love is struggling with.

“It's ok. You don't have to say it.”

Rachel nods and waits patiently for her to start, browing deeper into her lover's embrace.

“We'll.............you didn't miss much.”
Rachel laughs.
“No really, you didn't. I....I really couldn't cope well with what happened. I locked myself away from everyone for a long time. I eventually got to the point  where I could start doing missions again, and that helped....everyone's the same really. Finn and Puck are still silly closeted homos. Kurt has kids!”

“Really?”
“Yea. You'll probably meet them soon enough. Santana and Brittany are still together. So are Artie and Tina. Oh! Artie and I are partners......................uhhm....”
“What?” Quinn's eyes dart around the room, her mind trying to escape certain memories. Rachel moves up and holds her face in her hands, thumbs caressing her cheeks.
“Hey, hey, it's ok. You don't have to explain it to me or tell me yet. It's alright. There's no rush.” Rachel rubs their nose together before kissing her wife gently. “It's ok. Don't push yourself for me. We're both broken.” Quinn nods, a few tears making tracks down her face, laughing. They laugh together for a while, Rachel wiping Quinn's tears away with kisses and fingers.

“I cried a fucking lot.” As they laugh, Quinn watches as a pained expression crosses Rachel's face.
"Me too."









It was Sunday afternoon, and they're on the couch watching TV. Rachel's studying every commerical and news show she can find, trying to analyze what she missed World News wise and culturally. Quinn was curled up in her arms, trying to stay awake for Rachel's hilarous commentary. “I see no connection between air travel and a garden nome. It makes no logical sense! Don't laugh at me!.”

Rachel runs her finger through golden locks. She's so grateful for having Quinn. High school, college, WHND, all their time together, even now. Quinn still amazes her with her love and her trust. Her wife had been so patient, not asking Rachel about what had happened, waiting for her to tell her when she was ready. It must be killing her, not having a lead for years and then I return with everything that I know. When she first got here she had braced herself for a full blown inquisition, but it never came. 




“I....I really don't know that much.”
Quinn sleeply turns into her more, “That's alright, if you keep watching the TV you'll figure it out.”


“No, I mean, I don't know that much about what happened that day.....” Hazel eyes immediately become awake and focused, but those soft lips stayed silent.

“When we were running towards the garage....and....these men came through the back door and grabbed us. Knocked us out somehow.....I don't remember that much. When I came to it was in a pitch black. I was all by myself........That day was the last time I saw Madison.” Rachel's eyes take on a far off look that worries Quinn. She laces her fingers with Rachel's, pulling her out of her retrieve. Her smile is tense before she continues. “I haven't seen our baby girl since Q.” Rachel fights back tears before continuing on.

“And that was it. I was stuck in that room for six years. It was usually dark except for when they slide food under the door. And then it looked like a interior design catelogue had barfed. You'd think that with all that shit in there that you could create some make-shift weapon, but it's all crap. Six years in a pitch black room that could have been a Crate and Barrel display.” She shakes her head, laughing, looking at her wife. She tucks a blonde strand behind her ear before craddling her face in her hands.

The kiss was soft, a whisper of old memories and a neverending love.

Rachel stays close, propping her head up on her hand. “The first few days I screamed. I screamed to be released, for Maddie, for you. I screamed until my voice was gone. When it would come back, I would start again, trying to get anyone to hear me.” Quinn stares at her, jaw slack. She had never known Rachel to abuse her voice, so the fact that she had screamed herself hoarse for days was truly shocking.

“Then she started drugging my food to shut me up.” Quinn's eyes flash with fury and her lips pull back into a snarl. Rachel caresses her cheek until the fire behind her hazel eyes banks slightly. “I started blacking out for what I could only figure was days. I stopped eating for a while. Then one day she stood in that doorway, laughing at me, saying that she didn't care if I died because I was 'wasting valuable storage space.' I couldn't even attack her I was so weak. I started eating again, careful to pick through my food first, flushing anything that I thought was supsicous down the toliet in my room. Over time, they stopped drugging me. They stopped caring really.”

That amount of time in solitary seemed unfathomable to Quinn. “What did you do for six years?”

“I sang a lot.” Quinn laughs and Rachel can help but laugh with her. The hold each other, laughing,  feeling broken pieces slowly click into place, rebuilding them.










Monday

Quinn and Rachel stand in the elevator, both nervous and excited, grasping each other's hands tightly. The weekend together had fixed a lot of things. Old habits had fallen back into place quickly and thankfully. Rachel was less jumping and catatonic and Quinn was more active. Things weren't fixed entirely, but they were both better than they were before. Better enough to start looking for their daughter.

Rachel was twisiting her wedding ring around her finger, fidgetting. Quinn smiles at the nervous  tic, remembering when Rachel had pulled it out of her shoe last night and put it on. The brunette looks up at her and smiles. Quinn's heart melts at that smile, that full Rachel Berry smile. She pulls Rachel close and kisses her, breathing in the scent of her wife.

“I'm nervous.” Quinn looks down into brown eyes.
“Why?”
“Well...everyone here thinks that I've been dead for six years. I've never really dealt with a situation like this before. I...I don't know what to expect.” Quinn gives her a quick hug and kisses on the forehead before the elevator ding announcing that they have reached their desintation.

Quinn walks forward towards the opening doors, turning to offer her hand to Rachel. Her smile is warm and comforting, and Rachel feels something old and familiar ignite deep within her. They walk happily together into the lobby of MHND, hand in hand.


Until someone screams.


Chapter 11

(really, thanks again to all of you who comment and encourage and support me. You all totally rock. How's you like the chapter?)

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Your love is like a button.... (9/?)

Apr. 12th, 2010 | 11:33 am
location: class
mood: rejuvenatedrejuvenated
music: lecture

Title: Your love is like a button, mine to keep
Author: paintedpaw89
Rating: R (for semxy scenes, language and content)
Pairing: Rachel/ Quinn with minor Puck/ Finn, Artie/ Tina, and Santana/ Brittany
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Glee or the characters within, even though I love them.
Length: This chapter is over 600
Summary: Quinn is the top agent at a secret organization. Struggling with the death of her wife and child, her partner Artie's recent paralysis, and the daily rigors of work, Quinn eventually takes a mission that turns everything she's known for the past six years upside down.
A/N: This is the first fic I've published here so comments are appreciated :)


Chp 1     Chp 2     Chp 3     Chp 4     Chp 5     Chp 6     Chp 7     Chp 8


Terri Schuester.......Terri Schuester is the biggest bimbo in the entire world, thinks Maddison Fabray Berry, or “Bethany” as her “Mom” likes to call her. She has to be. No other person would be this enthusicastic about making little house out of glue and hickory chips for hours. Hours! It was relentless. And that smell!

Let's do something together sweetie.

Yea, like shoot your damn head off Mom
. Followed by a gun shot and a sweet innocent smile. Maddie rolls her eyes. If only.

Maddie can't understand how the woman in front of her that's having difficulty with the hot glue is the person who kidnapped her. Or how she could sit there and glue those little tiny pieces of wood together to make a house. The same damn houses again and again.....jesus.

But it doesn't matter. She can't go anywhere – she barely knows where she is. Even though Maddie's been kept under lock and key by Terri Schuester for six years, she was anything if not her real mothers child. She was sneaky, looking at the address on the catalogs that came in the mail. She knows that she's somewhere in Montreal. But that's about it.

It isn't like Maddie is a closet case either. She knows her mom's would not be happy to know that she hadn't kept up in school while being in captivity.  Terri bought her the books for homeschooling and then left it to her to teach herself, or as Maddie would put it 'go get dopped up on speed and then make Martha Stewart's newest cookies.'

Her “mother” was always high. She had gotten use to it after the first year of her captivity. It made sense though. Why not get upped up on speed when you were the Queen Meth dealer in all of Canada?

Yup, that's her mother, the meth dealer. I wonder how she would feel if I signed our christmas cards that way. Merry Christmas – Love Bethany, the enslaved daughter and the Meth Queen. It had a good ring to it.

“Bethany sweetheart, is everything ok? Did you run out of hot glue again?” Glassy blue eyes bore into her expectantly.

“No, nope. Got it right here. I was just thinking of...” building a ray gun and shooting you, escaping, my mom's, remembering my real name for the millionth time- “making a two story colonial. What do you think?”

Terri (Mom.... *gag*) squeals and claps her hands. “What a wonderful idea! I'll go get more wood chips! And cookies!” She bounces out of the room.

Bethany, damn it, Madison, looks blatantly at the two full bags of wood chips in the corner of the craft room. She sighs and pulls right leg up onto her lap. Madison moves the large metal shackle away from her ankle, massaging the scar tissue that's accumulated there briefly. Her mom hated seeing her 'leash,' as she calls it. It reminds her that the eleven year old is not actually her daughter. When your Mom is on speed, you really don't want to upset her.

Especially after what happened on her birthday. Maddie shakes long dirty blonde hair out of her face, wiping away a few tears that were trying to escape. Her hand dives into her jean pocket, tightly gripping the pocket watch that hides there. She fidgets with the small silver ring attached to the chain. A ring from a matching set that holds three stones and has an inscription on the back.

“All our love Maddie. R&Q.”

And a button.

Maddie releases a small chuckle. That damn button. She smiles her first real smile in days before hearing the heavy footsteps of her captor.

“...and later we can watch a movie, and then we can go shopping online! How about that Bethany?”

“Sounds great Mom.” Welcome back to Craft Time with Martha McHigh-Pants and Bethany. This week, Bethany stabs Martha in the eye with wood chips. Stay tuned.

Maddison wonders, if my sarcasm gets any louder in my head Terri may actually hear it one day and die. Or maybe she'll just act like that one time when she thought there were ghosts in the house talking to her and it was actually the radio.

Sigh.

Soon, she thinks, nibbling on a sugar cookie. She almost has everything that she needs, just a few more weeks and her stockpile would be complete. Then it would be no more fricking cookies, no more smelly wood chips, and most definitely not more obnoxious annonying Terri Schuester.

Soon.


Chapter 10

(Yeah Maddie! You go girl! Next chapter, we learn what Quinn and Rachel were up to over the weekend. :) Thank you all for the wonderful comments! Keep it up!)

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Your love is like a button.... (8/?)

Apr. 9th, 2010 | 07:33 pm
location: apt
mood: excitedexcited
music: *shrugs* who knows

Title: Your love is like a button, mine to keep
Author: paintedpaw89
Rating: R (for semxy scenes, language and content)
Pairing: Rachel/ Quinn with minor Puck/ Finn, Artie/ Tina, and Santana/ Brittany
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Glee or the characters within, even though I love them.
Length: This chapter is over 500
Summary: Quinn is the top agent at a secret organization. Struggling with the death of her wife and child, her partner Artie's recent paralysis, and the daily rigors of work, Quinn eventually takes a mission that turns everything she's known for the past six years upside down.
A/N: This is the first fic I've published here so comments are appreciated :)


A/N: I'm sorry for all the short chapters, but I won't be updating over the weekend. :( 


Chp 1     Chp 2     Chp 3     Chp 4     Chp 5     Chp 6       Chp 7





I don't know.

Quinn's heart sinks at her wife's admission. “I don't know Quinn. I don't know! I'm so sorry! I haven't seen her since that day...” Quinn's brain flashes scenes of an all to familiar movie across her vision before she focuses on Rachel. She's soaked and leaning halfway through the window, sobbing something about being “locked away” and “never seeing Maddison.”

Rachel panics as Quinn moves away from her, thinking that she's horribly angry with her for losing track of their daughter. “QUINN! QUINN! I'm sorry!” When she doesn't return, Rachel slumps against the sill, the exhaustion and guilt she had been fighting off for days taking over. She'll never trust me again, never want me again. What am I doing here-

Quinn's arm underneath her shoulder startles her. “Come on, let's get inside.” Rachel glazes at her, touching her face and arms, making sure they're real as she helps her inside. Quinn is startled by the pained and mystifying expression on Rachel's face as she touches her.

“I thought you were dead too you know.” Quinn fumbles as she half carries Rachel inside. She looks at her, hazel eyes wide in surprise. Brunette locks nod up and down. “I never knew, I had no idea. I just-” choking on the emotion, Rachel struggles to continue. “I just hoped that you were alive. And I found you.” Quinn sits her down on the battered sofa and pulls Rachel into an embrace. They sit there for a while, crying and laughing and trying to convince themselves that this isn't a dream.

Rachel turns in Quinn's lap to look at her wife. She lets her fingers wander across warm skin, tracing new wrinkles, a look of wonder on her face. Quinn notices that Rachel's hands are shaking, so she pulls a blanket around her wife. Wetness seeps through it, reminding her that the brunette is soaking wet.

“Hun?”
Rachel's eyes light up at the pet name. “Hmm?”
“Why are you soaked?”
“Canada.” she laughs.
Quinn gives her a quizical look, expecting a simple answer like 'It's raining outside.' But Rachel nods enthusiastically at her. “Fucking Canada, Quinn! You would never think that such a stereotypically liberal environment would be such a violent place. I mean, they shot me!” At this Quinn jumps back a little, remember the gunshot wound on her wife's leg. The brunette waves her hands away, muttering that “I took care of it on the way here and I'm fine.” She looks at Rachel, stricten.

“You told me that you'd been shot in the leg. What the hell?!”
“Well, I wanted to you open the door.” she pouts.
Quinn rolls her eyes and hugs her tightly, letting it slide because at least she's alive. “But Quinn,” Rachel barrels on, “that's not even the worst part! She shot me in the leg and then she let her stupid minion throw me off a bridge! I don't understand the logistics of shooting someone after you've tied cement blocks around their feet. It just seems a bit redundent is all...”she trails off, lost in thought, oblivious to Quinn who is staring at her with wide eyes.

It's the first lead Quinn's had in five years. “Rachel.”

No response.

“Rachel!” Quinn gently shakes her wife until she focuses on her. “Who is 'she'? Who shot you?!”

Rachel's face instantly hardens and her eyes morph into stony slits of rage. Her lips pull up into a snarl as she growls out the name. It's the last person that Quinn would have ever expected to be the mastermind behind the destruction of her life.

“Terri Schuester.”


(Sorry everyone, that's all I'm posting until Monday! Lots of homework to do over the weekend. Don't forget to comment! *on how much you love the story, not on how much it sucks that you have to wait :p*)


Chapter 9 - Terri Schuester

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Your love is like a button.... (7/?)

Apr. 9th, 2010 | 07:08 pm

 Title: Your love is like a button, mine to keep
Author: paintedpaw89
Rating: R (for semxy scenes, language and content)
Pairing: Rachel/ Quinn with minor Puck/ Finn, Artie/ Tina, and Santana/ Brittany
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Glee or the characters within, even though I love them.
Summary: Quinn is the top agent at a secret organization. Struggling with the death of her wife and child, her partner Artie's recent paralysis, and the daily rigors of work, Quinn eventually takes a mission that turns everything she's known for the past six years upside down.
A/N: This is the first fic I've published here so comments are appreciated :)

Chp 1     Chp 2     Chp 3     Chp 4     Chp 5      Chp 6



Thunk thunk. Quinn's eyes flash open to look at the window still dripping in rain. Except this time someone's looking back in.

“Happy Anniversary to you too babe. Do you think you can let me in?” Brown hair soaked in rain, sounding like someone from long ago. Quinn sits up and rubs her eyes. Looks again. Shuts them tightly. Counts to ten and reopens them. Rachel is still looking back at her through the window.

“Yes Quinn. I am still here. I would really appreciate it if you could open the window, even though I would much prefer the front door since I've been shot in the leg.” Quinn continues to sit unmoving on the bed, staring at Rachel. The brunette doesn't know what else to do as she looks into her wife's emotionless eyes.

“Quinn?”

“What's the password?” Her voice comes out in a croak, emotion making it hard to speak. It's still a dream, it's still a dream Quinn.

“Quinn! I'm outside freezing my ass off in the cold rain with a gunshot wound and you want to know the-” Rachel yelps as her wife comes barreling towards the window, beating the glass with her hands, yelling at her.

“YOU'RE DEAD! YOU'VE BEEN DEAD FOR SIX YEARS RACHEL! You're dead.......Maddie's dead....this isn't real....” Rachel's heart breaks as she watches Quinn slide out of view, her quiet sobs still audible against the patter of rain against the window. She leans against the house, pressing her forehead against the window, trying to remember. Trying not to panic as she realizes that she doesn't remember.

Rachel searches through her mind, trying to remember. Six years is a long time; it makes it easy to forget things. She gets frustrated because it's right there, it's on the tip of her tongue, she just can't remember it. She thinks back, scanning through memories, tearing up as moments of her life pass by her eyes:

Quinn being pregnant, buying a house, everyone playing together in the backyard, Maddie's first grade poem, teaching their daughter to roller skate, buying ice cream, the day of the fire....Maddie's birthday........

Quinn sits for what feels like eternity crying, looking at Potter's sleeping form on the bed. 'Some attack dog he is. Well, if he's not awake this must be a dream..' She's so lost in thought that she almost doesn't hear it.

“Button.”

She turns around and looks up at Rachel. Brown eyes, wet with tears, shine back at her. She whispers it again, like she might loose the word. “Button.” Their hands press against the glass in an attempt to connect. “Button.” Quinn throws the window open, fearful to touch Rachel thinking that her wife may become an apparition, turning into smoke on the wind. Rachel takes her hand in her's and brings it to her cheek, murmuring “button” into her palm like a lost mantra. Quinn's brain stops at the touch of wet skin. Finger tips trace cheekbones and quivering lips. She reaches forward, pulling Rachel's face back to hers thinking 'She's never looked more beautiful.' She feels warm breath cross her face as she rubs their noses together, releasing a painful gasp as her brain finally gets it.

Rachel's here. Rachel is here, and she's alive and at her house and she's alive!

Quinn crushes her lips against Rachel's like two long lost lover would have if they had ever found each other. They're laughing and crying and she can't stop kissing Rachel. She revels in every kiss, cherishes the warmth of her lover's hand, the shear physicality of her presence. She pulls away slightly, resting their foreheads together, their breathing shallow. Rachel rubs their noses together, chuckling.

“Hi there.” Quinn's laughter comes out pained and choked as she remembers the dream she just had. She sniffles, kissing Rachel's palm that's resting on her cheek.

“Hi.”
“Can I come in now?”

Quinn's bark of laughter is immediately cut short as another thought rips across her mind.

“Hey Rach?”
“Yeah?”
“Where's our daughter?”

Rachel casts her head downwards and new tears, different tears – tears of pain and anguish, escape with a rough sob. “Oh Quinn.....I don't know.”

I dont' know. - Chapter 8


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Your love is like a button.... (6/?)

Apr. 9th, 2010 | 11:47 am
location: school
mood: aggravatedaggravated
music: Brandi Carille

Title: Your love is like a button, mine to keep
Author: paintedpaw89
Rating: R (for semxy scenes, language and content)
Pairing: Rachel/ Quinn with minor Puck/ Finn, Artie/ Tina, and Santana/ Brittany
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Glee or the characters within, even though I love them.
Length: Long chapter today, over 3,000 Summary: Quinn is the top agent at a secret organization. Struggling with the death of her wife and child, her partner Artie's recent paralysis, and the daily rigors of work, Quinn eventually takes a mission that turns everything she's known for the past six years upside down.
A/N: This is the first fic I've published here so comments are appreciated :)

A/N: Chapter smut! Woot woot! If this kind of smut bothers you (sub/dom power, biting) then don't read it. Scroll to the end and read that. :P

Chp 1     Chp 2     Chp 3      Chp 4      Chp 5



Quinn noticed soft lips trailing across her shoulder as she woke up. A tan hand traced lazy patterns down her back to her waist. Quinn hummed happily.

Rachel muttered a “Good morning” from behind a curtain of brown hair. Fingers slipped lower, tickling Quinn's butt as they settled on her thighs.

“Hmm, morning beautiful.” She turned her head to look over her shoulder at Rachel. Brunette locks simmered in the sunny streaking through the window. Her wife always looked beautiful in the morning.
“Hmmm...gorgeous.” Rachel leaned over her shoulder to capture her lips. All Quinn could think was that this best way to wake up ever.

Then Quinn stopped thinking all together as Rachel's finger found her center.

“Do you know what I like best about the morning?”
 Quinn's breath hitched as she replied. "Coffee?"
“No,” a finger lazy teased at her opening. Quinn's hips buck upward, searching for more contact. “I love how wet you get first thing in the morning.” She could feel Rachel smile against her shoulder as her fingers disappeared. Quinn could feel wet fingers on her shoulder, racking against her skin, followed by Rachel's tongue.

“I really,” the fingers returned to her entrance, “really” teasing her opening “really” her wife pressed her hips against Quinn's side, making her moan “love how weeeeet you are in the morning.”
and three fingers entered her without preamble as Rachel bit down on the crook of her neck. Hard.

“Ah! Rach!” But her lover wasn't pumping her fingers in and out of her. They rest inside her, unmoving, waiting. Quinn tried gyrating her hips to relieve her growing arousal but was met with a stern growl from her wife. So that's how she wanted to play it. She pressed her hips down hard and Rachel's teeth dug further into her neck, growling in a warning. Quinn moaned,the pleasure turning into pain. She twisted and bucked but Rachel kept her underneath her ,biting her harder every time she moved, eliciting louder moans and whines from Quinn. After a particularly hard bite Rachel sucked in, causing Quinn to scream. She stopped moving after that.

Rachel purred at her submission, lapping at her neck like a content panther having caught its prey. The woman lay beneath her, sweating, trying not to buck her hips, releasing soft cries and whimpers at the end of each heavy breath. Her lover nuzzled her neck, and figuring her wife had waited enough, twitched her fingers. Quinn almost jumped out of her skin at the feeling, having forgotten that the fingers were there. The digits pressed against her walls, curling up, exploring the soft folds with leisure. Quinn felt like she was burning up. Her ears were ringing and her eyes were tearing at the intensity of her arousal. She couldn't stop her pelvis from rocking, receiving a resounding snap of teeth in her ear. She whimpered and moaned, begging through noise her need. Rachel growled at her, demanding she wait, but she couldn't take much more of this. Quinn was shaking all over, her hands digging into the edge of the mattress, her hips yearning, her core begging for release. She felt her lover smirk against her shoulder before teeth and fingers sunk deeper into her, making her cry out as digits pumped quickly and forcefully in and out of her, teeth pressing harder and harder against her shoulder, threatening to break skin. And that's when Quinn felt it, the quick flick over her clit and a hard suck from her lover's mouth.

She unraveled, walls clamping around still moving fingers, back arching up, Rachel's mouth staying with her, and as she bit down again Quinn felt a second orgasm rocket through her. The brunette slowed her fingers, rocking with the waves of pleasure that coursed through her wife's body, kissing the purple bruise that was growing on her shoulder. Quinn curled into her wife as she pulled a sheet to cover their glisening skin. Rachel kissed her forehead, nuzzling against Quinn's face as she regained her senses.

“Hi there.” A gorgeous smile.
“Hi.” Quinn sighed weakly, happy and sated.
“Happy Anniversary.”

Quinn wakes up from the dream with tears in her eyes. She rolls away from Potter who is hogging the bed to look out the window. Clouds and rain softly patter against the glass like small footsteps. Her hand finds its way to the ring around her necklace, grasping it tightly.

“Happy Anniversary Rach.”







Thunk thunk. Quinn's eyes flash open to look at the window still dripping in rain. Except this time someone's looking back in.


(Oh my god, who's there? *plays 'Someone watching me.' :) Sorry everyone, these are the last few updates until Monday, so make them last!  )

Chapter 7

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Your love is like a button.... (5/?)

Apr. 8th, 2010 | 12:35 pm
location: School
mood: creative
music: nothing

 Title: Your love is like a button, mine to keep
Author: paintedpaw89
Rating: R (for semxy scenes, language and content)
Pairing: Rachel/ Quinn with minor Puck/ Finn, Artie/ Tina, and Santana/ Brittany
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Glee or the characters within, even though I love them.
Length: Long chapter today, over 3,000
Summary: Quinn is the top agent at a secret organization. Struggling with the death of her wife and child, her partner Artie's recent paralysis, and the daily rigors of work, Quinn eventually takes a mission that turns everything she's known for the past six years upside down.
A/N: This is the first fic I've published here so comments are appreciated :)


A/N: It's an angst filled chapter folks. Be prepared.

Chp 1         Chp 2       Chp 3      Chp 4




April 8th, 2021 – Graveyard in Lima, Ohio

Quinn is standing in the left corner of the graveyard next to a big oak tree and a view that looks out over small pond nearby. It's a nice place when it's sunny.

The rain is currently soaking through Quinn's long coat. The bouquets of fresh flowers on top of the two tombstones were splattered flat by the weight of it. Artie, Brittany, Puck, Santana, Finn, Mercedes, Tina, and Kurt sit in the  nearby pavilion playing card games and having a potluck lunch.

It had become a yearly thing, these five last years. Quinn would come out here, by herself, and over time the others would arrive. At first they would stand with her. But Quinn would stand unmoving for hours, which lead to her friends going to the pavilion to wait. Someone would have a pack of cards and that's how it started, the having lunch and waiting for Quinn.

It became a ritual after the first year. The first year when Quinn came to the grave site, she spent the entire day in the pouring rain....which turned into the entire night. It was freezing cold that night, and Quinn was still standing there the next day when Santana had found out where she was. Quinn finally left the graveyard, kicking and screaming over Santana's shoulder while Brittany waited in the car to drive them home. Quinn got a cold and was out sick from work for a week. Ever since, Santana has come out to the grave yard with Quinn, and every year Quinn leaves the same way. The only thing that's changed is who's shoulder she's over.





Finn and Puck are piling on potato salad and Mercedes' famous chicken casserole at the food table as Kurt comes over. The fashionable man had just arrived and is carrying a large basket of “Fresh Bread!”he announces. He smiles at the two men as they dig into it before both giving him fierce hugs.

Once the social hierarchy of high school was eliminated the three became fast friends. Kurt had found that he had a soft spot for the two closeted men and was constantly inviting them over to dinner. Finn and Puck had become part of the family and happily babysat Kurt's two kids, Emily and Thomas, whenever Kurt was out on a mission or speaking at some LGBT convention. Or out on a date with his husband, Mike Chang. 

Kurt shakes out his umbrella before setting it on the floor and looking out to where Quinn is standing. “How long has she been out there?”

Puck rummages around in his pocket for his cellphone. With small sigh Finn lifts his wrist to Puck's eye level to let him read the watch. “Um...about, let's see, it's 3pm now? Sooo......nine hours.” The man replies around a mouthful of chicken.
Kurt whistles. “Damn. Same spot as always?”
Finn snorts, “I think you can still see her footprints from last year.”



Quinn knows what her friends do on this day. Its never really bother her. She knows that they eat and drink and place bets on when she'll get tired and sit. Every year she collects the winning because she NEVER sits, or more like Santana collects them for her. She usually just donates the money to charity. Quinn knows that every year they play rock, paper, scissors to figure out who comes out and retrieve her. She knows that some of them will sit in the car and sleep, and some will barque and some will dance. That Santana is always here first, Brittany coming later, followed by everyone else around 11. She also knows that they will all wait for her until the end, which has now become whenever the sun start going down.

Quinn thinks it's fitting.

That's about all she's thinking about. Unimportant thoughts like that filter through her mind before her brain starts playing the film again. The rain is cold, she hasn't eaten since yesterday. But she doesn't care. The film about the most important day of her life is about to start.

Quinn laughs. If this is a film, its a horror movie.




Apirl 8th, 2015
Six years ago

Madison Fabray-Berry sneaks along the hallway wall, carefully looking at the map she carefully constructed of all the loud spots on the floor. Stepping around creaking floor boards, practicing the heal to toe step that her Mommy had taught her, Maddie takes a deep breath and rushes for the bedroom door. Her long pajama pants get tangled up around her feet and the little girl falls with tiny thump. She tries to quiet the fall but can't stop the small curse that slips past her lips at the interruption in her carefully layed out plan. If her Momma had taught her anything, it was to have a plan and execute it perfectly. She scrambles into place against the door jam, checking her time against her pocket watch – the one her Mommy gave her – and waits as the clock ticks over to nine.



Both of the women in the next room had heard their daughter sneaking along the hallway. They had also heard the pit stop at the bathroom and her trip and fall. Quinn had to cover Rachel's mouth with her hand to keep her wife from giggling. Maddie had done this every year on her birthday, trying to surprise her parents and weasel her birthday party surprises out of them.

Her wife licks her hand and she pulls it away was aghast. She wipes it off on the comforter and mouths her disgust to Rachel.

Eeeeww!

Rachel laughs silently. The creak in front of their door sounds their last defense before their daughters intrusion. The women quickly act like they're fast asleep. And wait.

And wait.

And wait?

Quinn is about to check on her daughter when she's tackled. “WAKE UP! Wake up!” the girl bounces up and down  on both her parents. She stops bouncing when she realizes that they aren't moving. She sit there for a minute, confused, before her Moms capture her and pull her down into the bed, tickling her.

“Nooooo! Ahh! Nooo! I demand that you ceeeeeeaaase at once! It's my birrrrrthdaahhahahay! Stoooooop!”

The two women snuggle up around their daughter, kissing her cheeks and rubbing their noses together. Rachel looks down into brown eyes, so much like hers, and at dirty blonde hair that surrounds her daughter's head before cocking her own head to the side.

“Wait, who are you?”

“Momma, it's Maddie.” she giggles.

“Maddie? I don't know a Maddie. Quinn, do you know a Maddie?”

Quinn shakes her head. “Nope can't say I do.”

“Mommy!” Maddie pulls their faces close and rubbed noses. “Mommy, it's Maddie. Your daughter? Madison Allison Fabray Berry? Hello?”

Quinn shakes her head, barely suppressing a grin at her daughter's attitude. “Well....maybe. I don't know though. You could be a double.”

“A doppelganger.” Rachel offers.
“A spy.”
“I wouldn't put it past a four year old.”
“Hey! I'm five now!” Maddie splays hand out into her Momma's face, counting her fingers. Rachel turns her nose up.

“I don't know. If you're my daughter, I guess you would know the secret password.”
Quinn nods in agreement. “Yup, the super secret password. The word that only your mother, and me, and our daughter would know.

“If you know it...”
“I guess that means you are our daughter....”
“And we could celebrate...” Rachel trails off.

Maddie's now sitting up in the bed, bouncing up and down, waiting for her Mom's to finish so she can speak. Of course she knows it. Duh, she wrote the poem they got it from. It was their family safe word, a word she would never, ever, EVER forget.

“But if you don't know it, we'll have to blow up the house to get rid of all the presents inside.”
“NO! I know it! I know it! It's BUTTON!”

The two women look at each other, checking, eyes wary.

“Can you use it in a sentence?” Quinn asks.
“Mommmm!”
“Well?”

“Like their marbles, I think my Mom's are missing a button.” she says as she rolls her eyes at her parents.

“Can you spell it?” Maddie crosses her arms in anger and stuck her tongue out at her Momma. They tackle her, yelling Happy Birthday, singing, and bouncing up and down on the bed. Rachel and Quinn have the whole day planned out. Go out to breakfast to their favorite restaurant, then come back to the surprise party, open presents, and watch Madison's favorite movie “Whip It.” After that they would all go to the roller skating rink and finally have cake.



What happened next wasn't part of that plan though. The bullets that start breaking glass and cutting through plaster aren't part of the plan as the family rolls off the bed and run down the hall, Madison cradled in Quinn's arms as they run always from the offensive metal. They're about to turn into Madison's room to take their emergency plan B exit – the fire escape- when Rachel stops and pushes the other two back right before a bomb goes off in the little girl's room.

“Mom!”

“I'm fine! Go to C! Quinn, go to C!” Quinn pulls her wife up by the arm as she turns to start down the stairs. Rachel runs forward to open the closet underneath the stairs and pulls out their emergency bag. They quickly hide there as another bomb goes off upstairs, probably their bedroom, and bullets start breaking into the living room. Rachel pulls out a Kevlar vest for each of them and passes Quinn her gun. Quinn ducks her head out to check the garage door in the kitchen when she hears the clinking of a grenade.

“Cover!” Quinn pulls the door closed as it goes off. Plates shatter and the artwork made by little hands are engulf in flames. Madison stays calm and silent underneath the barrier of her parents. Rachel's shaking Quinn's shoulder to try to get her to stay lucid.

“Quinn. Quinn!”
“I'm ok. Ow.”
“You're head's bleeding. Here.” Rachel hands her a strip of cloth. Quinn can smell smoke and hear the wood support beams creaking under the collapsed weight of the second floor. Rachel looks at her, eyes frantic.

“Quinn, what now?" She tries to think...
"What's our next plan?!”
“I DONT KNOW RACHEL! All we have is the front door left...”
“What are we going to do Quinn?!”
“I DON”T KNOW!”

“don't fight”

Madison's small voice quickly breaks up the argument. Quinn shuts her eyes to think. She tries to drown out the flames, the screaming wood, the bullets piercing wood and flesh...

Flesh?

Quinn opens her eyes to see Rachel holding her leg, eyes wide in fear. Watery brown meet hazel and then Quinn turns to her daughter.
“After I go, take the exit to the garage." Madison nods.
"Quinn..."
"Get in the car with your mother. I'll do what I can to give you time.” Quinn looks at Rachel who's shaking her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, mouthing 'no' in a silent plead.
“Keep her focused Mad. Call Santana when you're safe. Keep your Mom safe.” Maddie nods again before pulling the last, smaller gun out of the bag and strapping it to her side.

“Quinn..no.”
“Rach, I love you.”
“Quinn please.” Rachel's cut off by Quinn's lips pressing against hers. They pull apart, resting their foreheads together for a minute, their eyes gazing into each others speaking volumes they just didn't have time to say. "I love you too."

“Madison, I love you.” “I love you too Mom.” A kiss on the head an a fierce hug. Quinn hears a timber give, yells “Go” and runs though the Hell that had once been their living room. She hears the two people she loves most get to the garage, the beep of the alarm going off signaling her. Quinn barely gets through front door, pushing a flaming timber off her shoulder and rolling out before the house collapses.

Now she can only pray.

Five black cars are lined up the road, men shooting from behind them. Quinn shoots three dead before hearing the garage winch whined up. Four more fall to the sound of grinding of gears. Then Quinn sees it....a grenade...flying towards the garage. She tries to shoot at it but takes two shots to the chest. She's falling, watching the bomb explode, the car go up in flames, screaming metal and another, louder explosion of the gas tank igniting.



Quinn's world becomes very quiet. Her blurred vision focuses, her ears stop ringing, and she sits up. Then she's moving, barreling towards the first black car. Car by car, she kills the nondescript men, using their guns to kill them when hers runs out of ammo. She throws in a handful of well placed kicks and punches, a few neck snaps and a head butt. Four more bullets bite into her, two catching in Kevlar, one digging into her shoulder and the other grazing by. At car four, she finally finds the man with the grenades. She takes the one he's about to throw at her, shoves it in his mouth and tosses him into the last car. The explosion knocks her back, but it's all over.

It's all over.




Santana was the first to find her in the rumble of car debris. She had planned to come over early and help set up for the party. When Santan turns onto Quinn's street she finds disaster instead of balloons. She calls 911 and parks the car down the street. She runs around the perimeter of the burning thing that was a house yelling for “Quinn” and “Rachel” and “Madison!” until she's hoarse, on her knees on the front yard, sobbing as ambulances and firetrucks pull up. She almost doesn't catch the moan and movement that was Quinn, underneath a trunk hood, bloody and covered in soot. Santana runs over to her, clearing the debris with inhuman strength, putting pressure on as many wounds as she can while Quinn lays quiet, but conscious, in her arms.

Quinn remembers staring into flames, tears obstructing her vision, thinking that 'It's all over.'

Her family. Her wife. Her life. The only important things in her world.

   It's all gone.




They never found Rachel or Madison's bodies. The fire was too hot. The house burned itself to the ground and then that fire died away quietly, as if ashamed. Quinn wouldn't let the medics take her to the hospital, and Santana didn't force her to go. They sat on the lawn holding the only thing that had been salvaged. It was a piece of paper that had been blown to safely after the blast in the kitchen. It was severely burned, but Quinn could still read the first few lines from Maddie's first grade poetry homework.

Your love is like a button, mine to keep.
Deep down in my pocket, while I sleep.
It once was lost, but now I've found -


"Love like a button, on the ground." Quinn holds the paper gently as she watches the massacre on her front lawn get towed away while her friend makes phone calls.

"Call Puck. Cancel the party. No one's coming over today."

The rest of the movie becomes a montage. Buying new clothes, staying at Brittany and Santana's for a week before finding a small row home on the other side of town, in the city. Staying holed up there every night, staring off into space, not eating until Brittany comes over and forces her to. The funeral, going to work, ordering gravestones, having such a bad agrument with Brittany and Santana about her declining health that the downsizing at the agency was well timed blessing. Depression, working with Artie, rescuing Potter – a mutt that she found in the city.

And then it was one year later. One year after her daughter's fifth birthday. In two weeks it would have been her and Rachel's fourth anniversary. One year after Quinn lost everything. She never did find out who did it, who attacked them. She had looked, but never found anything. No leads, no trails, nothing.

She had stopped looking now because she figured that whoever they were, since they hadn't finished the job, that they would come after her one day and finally finish her.

She blamed herself, even though she didn't know why. So she would stand in front of their graves, torturing herself, her mind unrelentingly replaying that day over again and again. Trying to figure out what she could have done to change things.

Quinn figured that it was her punishment. For what? She didn't know. So she stood there, waiting and numb, replaying that day over and over...

and over.

“Quinn, it's time.” Quinn looks up from the stone markers into Santana's eyes. Her friends stand around with umbrella's open, guarding themselves from the hard rain, each looking at her with a mixture of sympathy, grief and pity. Puck stands by Santana's side, waiting to see if he would be needed to carry Quinn away. Quinn looks back to her wife and daughter, kneels before each stone to press a shaky kiss into the cold granite. She stands, nods at Santana and Puck, and walks away, stone elephant grasped tightly in her hand as the rain masks the tears streaming down her cheeks.

The crowd follows in shock and silence, each going to their separate cars, leaving one by one, Santana following Quinn to make sure she gets home safe. She stands at the door for a while, pushing $500 into Quinn's hands, talking about the bet, how Puck and Finn are closeted morons, and the story about how was Tina being a bitch to Brittany, who then threw potato salad at her. Quinn let the words wash over her before hugging Santana, going inside and curling up on the couch with Potter.



Quinn remembers what happened after that first year. She was delirious from the rain and cold and Santana was about to help her into the car when she had looked at Santana and told her.

“S.....Sssss. Do you know? Do you know why I do it?”
“No Q, I have not fucking idea.” And Santana didn't. Quinn had scared her by doing what she had done and it had frustrated the hell out of her at the same time. She was almost afraid to know why.

Quinn gripped Santana's shoulder with the rest of her strength. “I'm waiting S. I'm waiting for them to come back...to come back and get me. Finish me. End it. I figure that they'll follow me...that I'll stand in the same spot so they can get an easy shot in. That's why.....that'ssss.....why....”

Quinn fell asleep after that, all of the strain exhausting her. From that day on Santana always went with her best friend, even if Quinn said she didn't want her to come. She never told anyone the reason why. Not even Brittany, even when she would yell at Santana and scream, “Why are you letting her do this to herself?!!” In a weird way, Santana understood where the distraught woman was coming from.

After that day, Quinn changed. It was like a switch was flipped. She became the Quinn from before. She smiled and laughed and no one was man enough to ask questions.

Except her shrink, who then was in a coma for a month from having his head thrown through a wall.




Quinn played with the elephant charm around her neck the rest of the night, and before she and Potter went to bed, she added something new to the leather necklace.

A silver ring with a sapphire, emerald, and a ruby with an inscribtion that read “All our love. R&M.” Next to the image of a button.




















April 8th, 2021
Somewhere near Montreal, Canada

Bang. Splash. An evil chuckle.

Rachel was really tired of being shot in the leg. Every time! It's beyond coincidence! But she would deal with it for now. She had more important things to worry about, like escaping from the plastic bag she was in and untieing the cement block from her feet. And breathing. And extremely cold river water. If she could check all those things off the mental list she just made, a shot in the leg was the least of her problems.

This day really sucks.



(Sorry for the emotional chapter! But I hope you all enjoyed it. I'll see you for the next chapter and don't forget to comment! It helps get these out faster! Thanks for your readership!)


Chapter 6

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Your love is like a button.... (4/?)

Apr. 7th, 2010 | 10:58 am
location: bed
mood: calmcalm
music: Coldplay

 Title: Your love is like a button, mine to keep
Author: paintedpaw89
Rating: R (for semxy scenes, language and content)
Pairing: Rachel/ Quinn with minor Puck/ Finn, Artie/ Tina, and Santana/ Brittany
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Glee or the characters within, even though I love them.
Length: This chapter is ~800 again
Summary: Quinn is the top agent at a secret organization. Struggling with the death of her wife and child, her partner Artie's recent paralysis, and the daily rigors of work, Quinn eventually takes a mission that turns everything she's known for the past six years upside down.
A/N: This is the first fic I've published here so comments are appreciated :)

Chp 1     Chp 2      Chp 3     



It could have been so easy if he hadn't said it. “Blondie.” She was going to say, “I'll do this,” and then hit the button that would collapse all four towers outward, pulling the walls of the fragile animal room apart as they fell, letting the animals escape in a flurry of movement, and showing Marcus that all of his men were tied up while their air support flew in. And have it all on tape in record time. It could have been so easy. But he said it.

So Marcus Charz was now being punched senseless by the so called 'Blondie.'

“This. *punch* Is.*punch* What. *punch* I'm. *punch* Gonna. Do.*punch* Mother. Fucker!” *punch*

“Quinn! Quinn! Stop kicking his ass and do it already!”
“Yeah Q, listen to Puck for once! Come on.”

Quinn was sitting on the guy's chest, taking a breather as he starts to choke on his own blood. She drags him into a sitting position and flicks his broken nose for emphasis. She's breathing heavily as she fizzles over the com.

“Artie,  what's our time?”
“6:45...why?”
“Let me know when it flips to 7.”
“Why?” But Artie didn't get a response. All he can hear are the sounds of Quinn's fists hammering away at the poor guy. He shakes his head, wishing the man hadn't said it. He watches the clock hit 7 and gives his partner a few extra seconds before calling in.

“Q. That's 7.”

The punching immediately stops. “Alright you asshole. Here's what I'm gonna do.” Quinn finally flips the switch. Four explosions shake the ground as turrets collapse, taking the fence with them. The flimsy wall's groan before being torn away, the animals barking and screaming as their cages are collectively pulled open and run to freedom. Marcus releases a surprised yelp as the wall behind him vanishes and he sees the now visible group of men tied together.

“You bitch!” She smiles, kicks him for good measure, and picks up the camera ball by her feet. “Yup, that's me.” She hops onto the line off of Artie's hovering chair and flies off into the sky.

*click* =end of camera feed= Time 7:59:014




The feed from Artie and Quinn's mission became a viral video around headquarters. Puck watched it whenever he was having a hard day. It was a week after the mission, and Quinn was stuck in the office doing the thing she hated most. Paperwork.

“That's right. Let's train you to curve a bullet and fire an arrow upside down in space, then make you do paperwork. It makes so much sense!” The pen she's holding is flung across the room in anger and makes a satisfying twang as it sticks into the door next to a dozen other ballpoint pens before Santana pops her head in.

“Hey Q.”
“Santana, save me! Please! My paperwork is trying to kill me!”
“No luck,” the Latina smirks as she walks in, “but I brought you lunch.”
“If I still believed in God, you'd be a saint.” She eagerly grabs the egg salad sandwich as Santana moves papers around to claim her spot on the now free corner of Quinn's desk.

“How's B?”
“Brittany's good. Just got back from teaching kids about art in Botswana. She had a bunch of fun and is setting up an art's show to display their paintings. The usual.”
“The usual.” Quinn says around the mouthful of egg salad. “Did you go with her this time?” Santana shakes her head before swallowing her food. “No, no. I was in India working on curing a new epidemic.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Not so much.”
“Figured.”
"Besides, she wouldn't get anything done if I went with her." Santana admits with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Quinn has to try very hard not to snort food out through her nose.The two happily sit in silence, enjoying each others company. Quinn is munching away at her sandwich as she thinks about her friend. Her, Santana and Brittany had all been on the same cheer leading squad in high school. They went to college together, got hired by the same super secret company together, worked together for the first four years. They had always been a tight group, even if Brittany and Santana had been dating since high school. Actually, a lot of the glee kids had been hired into MHND agency. Apparently Glee kids have all the proper attributes to be spies and secret agents. Who knew?

Other than Will Scheuster, of course. He was in charge of operations here. He knew.

Santana kicks at her foot to get her attention. “Earth to Quinn, come in Quinn.” Quinn kicks her back. “I'm here, I'm here. Jeez."   Santana suddenly seems at a loss for words. She fiddles with her sandwich wrapper before speaking.

“It's this weekend isn't it?” Quinn nods, suddenly finding the paperwork on her desk more interesting to look at. “Do you want me to go with you?” Quinn shakes her head 'no'. “You sure?” Nod. “Alright.” The silence becomes weighted after a few minutes. Santana gets up and goes over to Quinn, pulling her best friend into a hug.

“I love you Q.” Quinn hugs her back, briefly sobbing into her shoulder. She pulls away after a minute and smiles at Santana. “Love you too S. Give a hug to B for me.” Santana kisses her head before turning to leave. “Will do.”


The 8th of April is in a few days. Quinn hunts underneath the paperwork to find a picture frame that was face down. She doesn't need to look at it to remember the two brunettes and their smiling faces as she puts it in her bag.



(Extra special double update today. What did you think? Stay tuned to find out what April 8th really means to Quinn. Thanks for reading and commenting!)


Chapter 5 - April 8th


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Your love is like a button.... (3/?)

Apr. 7th, 2010 | 10:38 am
location: bed
mood: happyhappy
music: pandora radio

Title: Your love is like a button, mine to keep
Author: paintedpaw89
Rating: R (for semxy scenes, language and content)
Pairing: Rachel/ Quinn with minor Puck/ Finn, Artie/ Tina, and Santana/ Brittany
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Glee or the characters within, even though I love them.
Length: This chapter is ~800
Summary: Quinn is the top agent at a secret organization. Struggling with the death of her wife and child, her partner Artie's recent paralysis, and the daily rigors of work, Quinn eventually takes a mission that turns everything she's known for the past six years upside down.
A/N: This is the first fic I've published here so comments are appreciated :)



Chp 1
     Chp 2      



'A Streisand' happened to be one of the hardest synchronized attempt to complete a mission all at once. Back when Rachel had been a head manager at MHND, she had taken the mission manual and renamed everything in it one drunken night. Everything from a Celebrity Safety mission (a Beatles) to night missions (a Bright Lights). She was drunk with Quinn, Puck, Finn, Kurt and Mercedes at the time when she started making up totally new mission plans. The group had laughed at her for hours at some of her insane ideas and the use of the old Glee repertoire.


That doesn't mean that those insane plans didn't work. 'A Jefferson' was Puck's favorite – using toy airplanes to distract everyone while you take people down and secure the area. Santana and Brittany liked 'the Montana' – capturing one of the bad guys and dressing up in their uniform, then kicking everyone's ass. Artie liked 'the Journey' best. Rachel was very specific that if you use this one you have to “play 'Don't Stop Believing' loud enough across the speaker system to either distract everyone long enough to make a move or cause them to start dancing.*hiccup* It's a very popular song known worldwide so *hiccup* expecting the criminals to dance is not an unrealistic expectation.” You also get extra points if you do it at night with spotlights.

The Streisand was Rachel's own personal goal. A timed effort to cause the largest amount of mayhem and destruction “without killing anyone Santana!” in one blow out move. “And tape it to get *hiccup* gloating rights. Write that down Finn.......... Gloating....................... G-l-o-*hiccup*a-t.....”



Rachel never did get to perform a Streisand Quinn thinks to herself as she ducks behind another large tree.


The best time for a 'Streisand' was set by the team of Brittany, Santana, and Quinn before teams were downsized four year ago and Quinn was reassigned to Puck. Puck was soon promoted (for his own safety) by Finn (who everyone knew that they've had a thing going for years, but were too stupid to noticed everyone's acceptance.) Quinn was allowed to pick her new teammate and she choose her best friend Artie, which pissed off his wife to no end (a constant occurrence.) They had been partners for the last five years.

The time to beat was 10:32. The tactical purpose of a Streisand – “to have fun and *hiccup* show off as much as possible.”

Quinn laughs as she and Artie sneak around the inside perimeter of the compound. They are only three minutes in and already half done. They had flown over the fence with the help of Artie's hover chair (and no help from Quinn's fear of heights). Artie had then wheeled around setting charges on the turret towers while Quinn jammed their communications. Right now Quinn was ducking about, grabbing criminals one by one, tying them up. She couldn't wait for the finale.

“Cortez! Cortez! Where are you?”

Enter the mark – Marcus Charz, illegal endangered/ wild animal poacher and smuggler. Wanted in two countries, and as Quinn would put it, about to be P'unked.

“Where are my people? You hire forty men and can never find any of them. Cortez!”

“Sir! I'm in the animal room Sir!” Quinn pats Cortez on the head with her gun as he speaks. The man is sweating like a waterfall. She presses a button on her headset. “Artie, you set?”

“Sure am. What's our time Puck?”

“5:12. Remember, it doesn't count if you don't record it or kill anybody.”

“Yea yea yea.”
Artie chuckles before pulling a camera ball from his pack and dropping it to the ground as he flies out of the compound. “Quinn, I'm set to film in 5. Are you ready?”

“Is that even a question?” Quinn smirks as the camera rolls into sight and wiggles at her. Quinn waves back at it. “I can see you waving at me.” He laughed. She smiles and knocks the guy, Cortez, out.

“Oh, Q, I wasn't filming yet.”

“Damn it. Are you filming now?”

“......yup.” Quinn picks the guy back up and hits him again just as Marcus Charz walks into the room.

“Cortez! Where are you, you idiot? Stopping playing with the animals and get them ready for transport. I've got buyers waiting!” Quinn scrambles up a tower of cages to watch the man walk through the labyrinth of animals unknowingly getting closer to her. She quietly sets down behind him and before he knows it, he on the ground with his hands bound behind him. Quinn's face hangs upside down in front of Marcus' face.

“Hi Marcus.”

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” he grunts and struggles on the ground.

“Oh....I'm Quinn.” She smiles that big cheerleader smile.

Marcus gets his feet under him and fights to stand up, the zip ties holding his hands together killing his balance. “Why are you here?”

“To fuck with you. You see, I don't like you. You're not very nice to animals or people. You'd make Brittany sad, and we can't have that now can we?” The man cocks his head in confusion before snorting and laughing in her face.

“So what are you doing to do about it..... Blondie?”

Artie and Puck both could clearly be heard over the com - “Oh Shit.”

So much for an easy Streisand.


"Oh Shit." - Chapter 4!

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Your love is like a button.... (2/?)

Apr. 6th, 2010 | 11:30 am
location: class
mood: boredbored
music: prof's lecture

Title: Your love is like a button, mine to keep
Author: paintedpaw89
Rating: R (for semxy scenes, language and content)
Pairing: Rachel/ Quinn with minor Puck/ Finn, Artie/ Tina, and Santana/ Brittany
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Glee or the characters within, even though I love them.
Length: This chapter is ~1300
Summary: Quinn is the top agent at a secret organization. Struggling with the death of her wife and child, her partner Artie's recent paralysis, and the daily rigors of work, Quinn eventually takes a mission that turns everything she's known for the past six years upside down.
A/N: This is the first fic I've published here so comments are appreciated :)


Previous chapter





6 months earlier


“Put the gun down! I swear to god put it down!”

The kidnapper looked at her and smiled. His face was burned and he was missing teeth that Artie had punched from is mouth. The little girls behind him were crying silently in fear.

Quinn was shaking, she couldn't hold her gun steady and couldn't stop the thoughts that flashed across her mind.

Rushing into the room, hesitating to fire, Artie getting attacked, hesitating, Artie getting a few good hits in before being knocked out and kicked to the side. Screams and tears from the little girls. A bomb that would kill everyone...gunpoint...that twisted smile.....several twisted smiles...eight men circling in around them, hesitating...

Quinn couldn't keep her gun steady and the rational voice of Puck in her ear was nowhere to be found.

Damn it! Why did she hesitate when she first got in here!?

“You put the gun down Blondie.” The foreign accent said with a wave of the detonator. Artie moaned somewhere on the floor. “Put it down Blondie and get on the floor, otherwise I shoot him. Then I blow up the little girls AND the little village, huh? Then I get away, yes? What you say Blondie?”

Shaking hands. Tears. Hesitation. Quiet sobs. Artie getting kicked again by a twisted smile.

A sneeze?

Quinn's eyes flicked up to meet brown. A little girl, determination in her watery eyes that wouldn't let tears fall. Brown hair and a face that reminded her so much of someone else that she had lost...and Artie would be next....The little girl sniffled and her eyes burned into Quinn's hazel.

She watched as a single tear fell and something in her snapped.



The report indicated that all nine men ended up dead, but not before Artie was shot in the back. The bomb was detonated and disarmed, and the children saved. But not before Artie was shot in the back.

Artie couldn't remember anything after the fight. He couldn't remember getting shot either. All he could remember was jolting against Quinn's back, her hair in his mouth as she ran though the village. She told him later that the bomb was in the center of town, placed directly on the fault of a large sinkhole that would have swallowed the whole place. Quinn had ran the mile down the steep mountainside using Artie's working phone to call command to bring a team in to get Artie, and preceded to disarmed the bomb in less than five minutes. An impossible feat....except for a woman who had snapped.



A woman who had two tombstones that marked the wife and daughter she once had.

A woman who had lost everything and had nothing to lose.

If you directly asked Quinn what happened that day, what went down, she'll say that she doesn't remember and to just 'read the damn report Santana and stop fucking asking me.' She doesn't remember somethings, like killing nine men in front of 20 little girls, or running down a mountain with her friend bleeding on her back, or dismantling a bomb. All she remembers is brown eyes crying and Artie being shot.

Artie remembers the first two months afterward as a series of dreams – the agency had tried to save his spine with a risky surgery which put him in a coma for two months.

Quinn spent those two months in the small town where the mission had occurred, working to reunite the little girls with their families, bringing the town independence from their oppressive mayor and starting a new localized power structure. She blamed herself everyday and cried herself to sleep every night. The day she got word that Artie had woken up, she flew back to the States.

The little brown hair girl had carved her an elephant of stone as a gift. It hung on a leather strand necklace that Quinn could always be seen wearing. The little girl, Toto-me, died later that year from a fever, but Quinn could still remember her smaller arms around her neck in a hug and the firm voice as she gave her her present.

“The elephant is strong and graceful. It moves with sureness and has the ability to shoulder great loads. Although the elephant is wise, it is cursed with the ability to never forget.”

The next four months were filled with therapy – for Artie; Quinn broke her chair on her Shrink's desk during her first session and forced the woman to sign the paper that allowed Quinn to go back to work. Quinn visited Artie everyday, brought him lunch sometimes, cried softly in the hospital chair at night before falling to sleep, officially heard the news that he would never be able to use his legs again, and still stayed by his side. Quinn helped him pick out his wheelchair (which his wife then modified to be bad ass and fly). She would disappear whenever Tina showed up at the hospital, especially after the first time when Tina punched her in the face. But Quinn stayed close even though Artie's depression, separation with his wife, and his grueling physical therapy.

Present
Artie's life was back together now. He and his wife were together again, his mind was back together, and he attributes a lot of that to Quinn sticking with him. He and Quinn are closer than ever, but he knows that she still isn't together yet. That she still cries at night. And even though they are close she still won't let him in. Whenever he tries to talk about what happened she just says “I don't remember” and shrugs it off. He doesn't blame her...wouldn't ever...but it still breaks something in him to watch his best friend cry at times like this.

Quinn looks up at the snap that echo through the forest as his wheels roll over a branch. She wipes her eyes and slides her emotions back behind steel walls. She becomes the Quinn that is famous for the “Stone Warehouse Incident” and the top agent that is a force to be reckoned with.

Artie smiles as he approaches her. “Hey Q, whatcha got?”

“20 feet of forest cover between us and them, a tall fence with some wire and electricity, a warehouse full of caged animals, a whole squadron of men, about 30 I think, and your usual corner turrets.”

He flexed his hands and checks his gun. After a moment he looks up. “So whatcha wanna pull? A Rolling Stone? A Fitzgerald? A Journey?”

Quinn rolls her neck and shifts into a crouch before peeking around the tree. “I was thinking a Streisand really.”

“You wanna pull a Streisand with two people and a wheelchair?”

“It's an epic wheelchair. And it has active camo.”

Artie flashes his com on. “Puck are you hearing this? She wants to pull a Streisand with two people.”

“You idiots. You can't do that.”
“Why not Pucklehead?”
“He's in a wheelchair! You can't do a Streisand with only two people and a wheelchair Quinn!”
Finn can be heard faintly in the background. “What's a Streisand?”
Artie's digging through his backpack. “I don't think we packed enough for that.”
“Q, pick another run. Do a Jefferson or something.”
“Wait, what's a Jefferson?”
“WE ARE doing A STERISSAND SO SHUT IT!!!” Everyone falls silent after that.

Puck fizzles over the com.“I still think it's stupid idea. I still think you should do a Jefferson or a Montana or something”

“Come on Artie.” She rolls her eyes and starts moving.

He follows Quinn and laughs. He knew they could pull it off with two people, they just hadn't done it before, even when he wasn't in a wheelchair. He's a little nervous, this being his first mission back. Before he switchs off the com Finn could still be heard in the background whining. “Puck, what's a Jefferson?!”


Chapter 3

(Hi everyone, thanks for commenting so much! It's a real motivator. I promise Rachel will show up in the next few chapters. Next time - Can Artie and Quinn pull off a Streisand? And what is it anyway? <3)

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