reconcile the violence in your heart
you may be a sinner, but your innocence is mine
i want to exorcise the demons from your past
Tick. Tock.
Quinn is playing another game now, a waiting game. Not to kill, even if Lucy persists to force her hand, but to see if there will be flashing lights and blue-collared cops swarming her apartment. She waits to see if Rachel will tattle on her, waits to see if their connection runs deeper than one unfortunate incident.
She knows what she should be doing but she choose not too, even as Lucy screams at her in her mind.
(Run, Lucy demands, run.)
The consequences of being caught would not be harsh. None of the charges the police could come up with would be too severe, Rachel doesn't know, they don't know that she has a few bodies underneath her belt. Even if they did swarm her apartment, there isn't much evidence to gather. The only relics she's collected over the year are those small tokens, her trusty Swiss army knife (even though she's expanded her knife collection), and the black jacket with the secret pocket she picked up when she was eighteen.
The tokens are the first thing to go.
She's never really noticed the fact that she picks up little bits and pieces of her victims till Rachel blatantly shoved it into her face. Already, that is too much evidence. Too many links. The box filled with tokens gets shoved into the arms of a homeless man the next night before she hurries away, face covered.
Quinn reads a lot to pass the time while she sits in her apartment. Spends days and nights reading book after book and occasionally checking the clock, ears trained intently on the outside world to hear the first hints of sirens since the curtains to her apartment block out any outside light.
Day three comes and goes with nothing.
She's getting impatient and although she can be really patient and careful, all rules fly out of the window when it comes down to Rachel.
It always has.
Day four comes and Quinn finally leaves her apartment again to figure out what Rachel is playing at.
She skulks around places she knows Rachel frequents. Morning coffee at a specific Starbucks on a specific corner. Rachel's schedule is known to her, down to a T, unless Rachel has run away from New York. Information she could find out easily if she called up Kurt or one of their other mutual friends. On the up side, none of them have come to kill her yet so Rachel must be doing well.
Or hiding her emotions well.
(Facades are our best friends.)
For all her memorization, Rachel never shows up where she's suppose to be at. This infuriates Quinn but a part of her recognizes that this is good. Rachel is gone. There is nothing to tie her down here. Even Lucy is ecstatic that she has no Achilles heel anymore.
Where before there was an actual reason for her to be careful, methodically combing over her scenes, to be calm and to not lose everything, there isn't now. Lucy fervent demands are hard for Quinn to ignore and she ends up spending hours upon hours shaking on the floor, curled up in the fetal position.
But she learned a long time ago that denying her not so better half only leads to trouble. After the raccoon incident. Sometimes, she thinks she can still feel the blood stains and the guts on her hand, marking her for the devil's taking.
(Just wait, Lucy. A whole new city for you.)
She waits and tries to ignore her incessant need to check on Rachel. Spends her time researching instead and after thorough work has been done, sells almost everything (she has almost nothing, disappear without a trace) and then she runs. Runs to the other side of the country. To Seattle.
(It's never far enough though. Lucy wants to be on the first plane back. Compromise, Lucy. Quinn wants to be on the first plane back too.)
Quinn doesn't lose it completely till she sees a girl that she mistakes for Rachel when she's out hunting. Unconsciously, her feet trail after the brunette. Did Rachel find her? Come to Seattle for her? Love her?
A hazy fog of rage settles over her when she realizes that the isn't Rachel. Putting the anger down takes more effort than she can put her heart into and Lucy comes bubbling to the surface with malicious glee. Quinn has been pushing her away for too long.
Quinn (or is it Lucy now?) traces the girl back to her apartment and lurks in corridor behind her. Waits for the girl to open the door and is almost inside when she comes rushing through and barrels into the door – into the girl, shoving her to the ground before slamming the door shut behind her.
Adrenaline. Freedom. Everything feels so good.
She stalks forward predatory.
The girl stares up with big, vulnerable eyes. Eyes that are almost the exact shade of Rachel's. If she squints, she can pretend. Rachel always reminded her of Bambi. Bambi got shot between the eyes.
(It makes her feel warm. The thought of shooting Rachel makes her feel positively gleeful.)
"W-who are you?"
Quinn's lips curve into a smile but she doesn't bother to reply because this girl will be dead by the sun's light.
(Is it Lucy or Quinn?)
A hand strikes out at Quinn's face and she grumbles, hauling the girl up onto her feet before abruptly slamming the brunette into the wall. The smile is gone and replaced with a sinister smirk. No one can see her here, no one can commit her to therapy – why bother to hide when she has nothing to lose?
The girl looks disoriented from taking the brunt of the force of hitting the wall and Quinn doesn't give her much of a chance to recover. She slams her into the wall again before she pauses and waits because she's just realized that the apartment wall is shared by another apartment and well, getting caught isn't on her list of things to do yet.
(Lucy wants the final curtain call. Rachel. Rachel.)
Quinn drags the girl further into the apartment. The brunette stumbles and tries to fight back, but it's alright, Quinn has spent years hauling around dead weight. She's got a little muscle on her side.
Click. Click.
Handcuffs hold the girl down easily. A quick stroll around the room and she's procured a sock to stuff down her victim's throat.
Quinn's hand sneaks into her pocket. Always the Swiss army knife. Her first blade but she's experimented. Some of the longer ones are nice too. Blades, although messier than guns, gives her a thrill a gun can't. Resistance always meet her hand when she slides it in and tries to move the knife. So much more satisfying than simply pulling a trigger.
The girl looks terrified.
"I can't promise this will be fast," Quinn says in a regretful voice. Mimicking human actions. Squinting her eyes, she stalks closer. "I'm sorry."
Because this girl looks so much like Rachel that she can satisfy Lucy's urge without harming the actual girl (without harming her heart).
The blade traces down olive complexion skin and Quinn's eyes close as the first slice occurs. Barely a scratch, just a precise cut that will lead to more and more till her skin is bathed in blood. Reaping and seeping and drowning.
Lucy is pleased.
(Who is it anymore? Lucy or Quinn?)
Weeks trickle by and Quinn tries to stay busy.
She picks up at a job at a local coffee store near her apartment while she searches for a more permanent work. Being an employee at a short-staffed store takes up enough of her time that by the end of the night, she's exhausted and too tired to think about Rachel. Too tired to listen to the voice in her head or the pang in her heart that tries to lead her back to New York.
Quinn tries to keep busy, to keep distracted. Things don't always go her way.
Somehow, when December hits and she finds herself sitting alone in her apartment, she books a ticket to take her back to big apple where she fell in love. Rachel is better off without her nearby to screw things up as a ticking bomb but she still can't help wanting to return. Trying to talk herself out of it fails.
Quinn ends up on that flight.
Most of the flight is spent wondering how Rachel is doing, if Rachel is okay.
If Rachel ever thinks about her.
Is Rachel thinking about her?
Santana calls her pathetic on the one phone call she allows herself to make when she's settled down in Seattle. She doesn't hang around to listen though because Quinn is never in the mood to listen to Santana of all people lecturing her about relationships. Especially since Santana doesn't even know the whole story. No one back in New York seems too and she's okay with that.
Quinn has to roam through Central Park for a better part of a day before she works up the courage to actually enter Rachel's apartment building (has she moved?) and knocked on the door. Bundled up in her arms is a Christmas – well, Hannukah – present.
The door swings open and Rachel takes a few moments to realize who's standing in her doorway. Happiness fades into disbelief and fear.
"Uh, hi?" Quinn offers when Rachel doesn't say anything.
"Quinn," Rachel states, eyes surveying Quinn still. After a few moments, she seems to gather her wit and glares at Quinn. "What are you doing here?"
"I came here to see you."
Rachel instinctively steps back as Quinn steps forward and the blonde pauses, her right hand coming up to wrap around her left arm. Slouching slightly, she attempts to make herself look smaller, less threatening in the wake of the evident fear in Rachel's eyes.
"I guess you don't really want to see me, huh?" Quinn asks in a self-deprecating voice.
"You just surprised me is all," Rachel says but Quinn translates it into as yes.
The blonde turns away, muttering things underneath her breath that sound a lot like shouldn't have come back and what kind of idiot thinks she'll want me back.
"Sorry," Quinn blows out a huff of air and steps back after shoving the present into Rachel's arms. She doesn't miss the way Rachel winces when her fingers accidentally brush the brunette's skin. "I'll go now."
She turns around to leave. This was a fruitless adventure. Hope kept her alive but the brunette will kill her. Rachel will let her walk out –
"Wait!" Rachel calls. "Where have you been?"
Quinn contemplates continug to go but stops because this is Rachel. There is no denying her. Especially not when you're Quinn.
"Places," she replies non-commitedly.
"Oh."
Rachel says so much in that one word, in such a dejected voice that Quinn has to command herself to stay rooted instead of turning around and sweeping Rachel into her arms.
(And really, she sounds like a romantic but this is no love song.)
"I hope you enjoy Hannukah, Rach."
"Why did you leave, Quinn?"
Quinn is almost in the elevator then and stops the door from closing with a hand.
"Why did you?"
The elevator door slides shut.
She thinks that will be the last time she sees Rachel. The brunette is clearly still afraid of her and not over the incident but when the door slides open, Rachel is huffing and puffing near the door.
"Rachel?"
"Can we talk about this?" Rachel asks once she has a her breathing under control.
"What is there to talk about?"
Rachel flinches at the anger in Quinn's voice and the blonde's expression immediately softens.
"Y-you held...and then you ran and well, there's plenty to talk about Quinn Fabray."
Oh, last names. Rachel is getting serious.
"You ran first," Quinn reminds her.
"I was shocked. You've never held any violent tendacies before."
"I have more than just a violent tendancy," she mutters in response.
"What did you say?"
"I held a knife to your throat, Rachel. What do you really want to talk about?"
"Why?" Rachel spills. "Did I do something wrong?"
It's the girl from high school. Insecure and uncertain about her relationship.
"No," Quinn forcefully shakes her head. "No."
"Then?"
"Do you trust me, Rachel?"
Silence.
"That's why you really don't want to know," Quinn sighs and tries to brush past Rachel.
"I think I deserve to know."
That's how Quinn ends up sitting in a coffee shop with Rachel across from her, sipping aimlessly at her tea. She wants to speak but she doesn't know where to start from. There's a trail of bodies behind her from Lima to New York. At this point, Rachel merely thinks she's a little knife happy. There's a difference between that and dating a serial killer.
"What I'm about to tell you..." she swallows. Putting all of her trust in someone isn't something she's use to doing. "You can't tell anyone."
Rachel nods her agreement with curiosity in her eyes.
And because really, since Quinn can't ever deny Rachel anything, the truth comes spilling from her lips in a rush. She tries to be good, tries to cut out any of the gorier bits but sometimes can't hold back the occasional half-stopped moan when she thinks about a certain victim and how much she loved getting her hands wet with blood.
How much she loved destroying them like people have to her.
Rachel sits there and listens, silent, eyes growing wider and wider.
"I did it to protect you," Quinn murmurs softly at the end because she can see the horror in the brunette's eyes. "Lucy wants to kill you. I couldn't..."
"You want to kill me?"
"Lucy wants too."
"She's basically you."
"I – I love you," Quinn chokes on the words. Partly because Rachel looks like she's about to run and partly because she's always held her emotions close to her chest and letting people in is hard.
"I think I should go now."
Quinn sits there dejected as Rachel gets up and leave.
There is something to salvage in their relationship (or Lucy is afraid of the repurcussions) that Quinn tries to reconnect with Rachel. She waits patiently for a few days before she begins to text the other girl.
Rachel?
She hopes the brunette hasn't changed her number. Quinn waits hours for a reply before she's convinced Rachel won't answer.
Can we talk?
Nothing.
It doesn't deter her at all, she simple tries the next day.
Rachel, I know you're in shock but can we at least discuss this?
Rachel, I'm begging you. Please?
I'd appreciate it if you stopped texting me, Quinn.
So she shows up outside Rachel's apartment instead with flowers and vegan chocolates like she did so many times before and camps outside Rachel's door.
Rachel shows up eventually and pauses before turning around and going back the way she came.
"You can't avoid me forever, Rachel."
"Watch me."
Rachel? Please?
No.
Why not?
I need time, Quinn.
I can give you that if you promise that you'll eventually talk to me.
Eventually is a long time.
I can wait.
Quinn heads back to Seattle two weeks after she left. She figures that it'll be easier on Rachel, as well as her, to be separated by several thousand miles. Rachel needs space and time and so she readily gives it.
She can't say she's waiting patiently though. Quinn likes – loves – Rachel more than she'd like to admit. Lucy even has a soft spot for her (admittedly, it is a more bloody soft spot, but still).
Tell me about these...urges.
Rachel?
Tell me.
Rachel...
Tell me, Quinn.
I can't control it. I can't even really describe it.
Try? For me.
Always. Quinn sends and then pauses, trying to figure out how to word it. It's hard to keep control of it but I try. There's this pounding in my blood, I guess. My mind is consumed with these thoughts of...dismantling a human body. I just need to kill to stop.
Have you ever tried getting help?
Rachel, I don't think anybody could help me without sending me to jail.
Would you try, even if you had to hide some things, to get help?
Rachel...
Come back to New York, Quinn.
Quinn leaves the next day. Just dumps everything, barely gives her boss a courteous phone call before she's hopping a plane and to Rachel. She's esctastic, hoping that Rachel has finally come to terms with it.
(Lucy thinks Rachel is leading her into a trap though. The police will be swarming her in seconds.)
Quinn doesn't find any blue-collared cops waiting for her though when she arrives. Rachel is there though, waiting for her and she has to resist the urge to launch herself into the brunette's arms.
"Hi," she says instead, looking shy.
Rachel smiles tentatively in response.
"Is there a reason you wanted me to come back to New York?"
"So I could talk to you in person about some suggestions I have."
"Suggestions?"
"Yes," Rachel gestures at the exit. "Can we go talk about it somewhere more private?"
She ends up in therapy. It's hard though, making sure she doesn't spill something important while still accurately going through her feelings and the reason why she's in therapy.
(Mostly because Rachel forced her too...)
There are slip ups. Quinn is not an angel but she tries to be as close as she can to one for Rachel. Animals aren't ever satisfying enough but it's better than the horrified look that greets her from Rachel when she shows up in the middle of the night.
Really, it's pretty pathetic the way she tries to accomendate things for Rachel. At this point she wouldn't be surprised if Rachel asked her to jump and automatically asked how high?
She's Quinn Fabray but when it comes to Rachel, she's just the brunette's bitch.
Rachel doesn't hide the fact that she's afraid of Quinn. Sometimes the way the blonde is intently staring at her or the way Quinn stands and slinks around predatorily sets Rachel off and running in the opposite direction.
That's a sign Quinn should back off and let Rachel recover but she's never been one for following norms. Chasing after the brunette and holding her close (not restraining her) when she's been forced to wean herself off humans is a test to her will.
Easily, holding her close with just her body and hands can become tying Rachel up on a table and idly browsing through her knife selection. She's just gotten a new one she really wants to try out (one that Rachel doesn't know about).
But it's okay. Rachel is still alive. Quinn has always been good at walking through the middle.
Speaking of Rachel...
"Hey," Quinn tosses out as Rachel opens the door and enters. Something about the fact that Rachel willingly comes over now makes her feel proud. It's hard work containing her wants but Rachel trusts her enough to keep herself in check.
"Hey," Rachel greets in response as Quinn hurries to stand up to help Rachel with her bags. The brunette leans over and places a brief kiss in greet on Quinn before shuffling over to the kitchen with Quinn trailing dutifully behind.
"Sorry I didn't go with you," Quinn apologizes as she settles the bags in her hand on various surfaces. "I really wanted too but-"
Rachel shrugs. "It's alright, Quinn."
Although Rachel says nothing to imply it, she can see it in the brunette's stance and the way she looks more relaxed. Unspoken is the fact that the time away was good to Rachel. Better than being around a psychotic killer.
So Quinn purses her lips but says nothing as she methodically stack cans in the pantry and puts away perishables in the fridge.
As easily as Quinn can read Rachel, Rachel can read Quinn.
"Quinn -"
"No," Quinn grips the counter tightly, knuckles turning white as she tucks her head between her shoulders. "I understand that you need your time alone. I'm not a little kid, Rach."
"I never said you were," Rachel protests in defense.
"Trust me," Quinn lets go of the counter and smiles (grimaces) at Rachel. "It's alright. We're working on it."
Rachel's smile is delicate, false and forcefully plastered onto her face. She knows all too well that their half domesticated life style could shatter in a second from plenty of obstacles.
"Okay."
"Okay?" Quinn arches a brow.
Rachel walks closer, leaning into Quinn and the blonde's arms automatically wrap around Rachel's waist.
"Okay," Rachel breathes out, tucking her head in the crook between the blonde's neck and shoulder.
"Okay," Quinn agrees. And really these are the reasons why she loves Rachel. These soft, calm moments when nothing else matters beside them and what they're trying to become (again).
In this moment, Quinn isn't some serial killer and Rachel isn't her longest prey, nor is Rachel the soon to be budding star on Broadway and Quinn a newcomer into the medical parts of New York.
They are just Rachel and Quinn and it's nice.
"Quinn?" Rachel says after several minutes of silence.
"Yeah?"
"I -"
Quinn silences Rachel with her lips.
So, I wasn't really satisfied by how I ended up ending this but I promised you guys something so here it is. (: The title/subtitle comes from Undisclosed Desire by Muse. Also, there was one scene I wrote while camping that basically made no sense here but I might post it as an out take because I just have a thing for Quinn killing Rachel people okay?