A/N This story is a little bit different. It deals with femmeslash, unrequited love, past lives, and medieval times. Also Faberry. I do not own glee or any of these characters. If I did faberry would be canon and we would all eat a cake I baked full of rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy.
Quinn Fabray is very good at two things: ignoring and pretending. As her white trainers squeak against the hallway floor she stares straight ahead, hands on her hips and a signature smirk on her lips. And all of the students at Mckinley High part for like she's Moses and they're the red sea because of the cheerios outfit. She doesn't let a flicker of unnecessary emotion affect her features, but when she sees Rachel Berry pulling books into her backpack, she pauses. She almost has to because those rich chocolate eyes make contact with her own and there is something so powerful and strong that connects them in that moment that turning away and brushing it off is simply not an option. Suddenly she hears the familiar whooshing in her ears and she begins to get tunnel vision. Swallowing sharply, she turns away and tries not to increase her pace too noticeably as she walks to the restroom, head still held arrogantly high. However, when she's in the tiled room that smells of cigarette smoke smothered by sickly perfume and toilet water she backs against the pale white wall next to the sink and nearly sinks to the floor.
Quinn Fabray used to be good at two things: riding horseback into a battle full of groaning men and bloody corpses, and being a chivalrous and gallant knight. Not in this life of course. No, cheerio Quinn Fabray never has touched a horse nor has she ever touched a sword. But the girl sometimes (always) has these memories, flashbacks, of a time much simpler than 21st century Lima, Ohio and much crueler than the catty high school of Mckinley. She feels like two people a lot. She'll have these instances where she's a normal teenage girl worried about her popularity and her everyday drama and then she'll be riding a panting stallion down a bloody hillside, swinging a shiny blade and decapitating enemy soldiers as she goes. A fierce warrior. And Quinn hates it. Hates that after having such a vivid and violent memory she's on the floor, eyes hazy and fists shaking. Half of her thinks she's crazy. The other half thinks she's incredibly unlucky. She almost sympathizes with this warrior who is born again into a rigid Christian family. But then she resents her (it's not Quinn, she reasons, it's that warrior, they're clearly not the same person). If it were just snippets of intense battles and tournaments Quinn might actually enjoy it a little like it's a free period drama with no anachronisms and shoddy acting, but it's not just good old blood and gore. There are memories of love and loss, affairs and betrayal, death and birth. And they all center and gravitate around one person.
"Are you okay?" asks a soft voice. The girl clenches her teeth and fully slides to the floor, ignoring the too cool and slightly wet tile that tickles her thighs.
"What. Is. It. Berry?" she chokes out slowly, trying to keep her breathing even. She can't have an episode here right in front of Rachel. Especially since-
All thoughts stop when she feels a warm hand touch her arm. Quinn jerks in surprise and her eyes snap open, an action she regrets almost instantly. Because she's staring into those eyes from a thousand years ago. Eyes full of compassion. Eyes full of intelligence. Eyes full of . . . love. She grits her teeth but she cannot look away. She's resisted everything that the other Quinn is attracted to and likes. But, it's like this girl has a leash on Quinn's heart and she doesn't even need to tug to get her attention. And Quinn's past (life, reincarnation, whatever) forces her to listen to the sound of Rachel's eyes, become fluent in its delicate and intricate language. And right now Rachel's eyes say Look at me. So Quinn does.
"I have a name you know," she murmurs softly in gentle amusement, a small smile on her face.
"I know." Quinn swallows and feels the tightness in her chest lessen and the pounding in her ears dull to a gentle rhythmic throb. She can look away now but she doesn't.
"Even though we're freshman and it's not even our first week here you already have the school at your feet. I'm not surprised though. You were always so charismatic." The tone in Rachel's voice is no longer the eager dramatic youthful fourteen year old girl. This voice is a woman who has lived, observed, and experienced things. It's the owner of the leash tugging at her heart with a careless flick of her wrist.
"You know that I wish I wasn't," she whispers softly, the words edged in a deep aching pain. When she feels the familiar warm hand stroke her cheek she forgets herself for a brief moment and leans into the touch. She feels like a prize horse being rewarded by it's owner. That's all she ever was to Rachel. A pet. A trophy.
"Why do you run from me when we both know you don't want to?" Quinn turns and looks into the soft eyes. For a fleeting moment she wants to lean in and kiss her. A thousand years is a long time, isn't it? It's so tempting and her lips look so soft and enticing. But then she reminds herself with a quick pinch to the thigh that whatever the hell this is, it has nothing to do with herself. This is the other Quinn's troubled and tumultuous past. Not hers. She does not have to deal with Rachel Berry. High school will be just like middle school and primary school. Cool indifference mixed with uncontrolled glances and unintentional meaningful looks.
Quinn pulls away from Rachel's hand and shakily gets to her feet.
"Stop it. Please. I-I want whatever this connection we have," Quinn gestures emphatically between the two of them, "to stop. It's crazy and it's not even us."
Rachel sighs and places her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing.
"So we both have memories that match each others and we can't explain them. I've been telling you for years Quinn, it's destiny!" Her sharp frustrated voice echoes sickeningly in the stalls, reverberating all too familiarly like a throne room full of irate knights and dissatisfied peasants.
"So you want this to end the same way as it did for the old Quinn and Rachel?" snarls Quinn, hazel eyes blazing. She takes a threatening step toward the shorter girl, unintentionally pushing her up against a bathroom stall. The only sound now is the echoing of other high schoolers leaving campus and their labored breaths.
"Have you ever thought that this our second chance? To make things right. If it worked for Brittany and Santana-"
"But they don't remember anything! Have you thought that the reason we remember is so that we don't make the same mistake? So that we don't . . . fall for each other again." Rachel is silent for a moment, her eyes sliding from Quinn's face to her own penny loafers. Quinn looks down too and their foreheads are almost touching.
"I don't know. But you can't deny that you feel something, Quinn. That events and things happened that tie us together. That fate-"
"I hate fate!" shouted Quinn, slamming a fist loudly against the stall and ignoring the immediate pain in her hand. "Don't you get it Rachel?" They lock eyes again and she can't deny the palpable tension that is so thick in the thin sliver of air between them. She is so close that she can feel the warmth of each breath Rachel gives.
"I've been trying to avoid anything and everything that will make me end up like her. I don't want to be anything like that Quinn from . . . back then. And if that means I ignore whatever the hell this is, then so be it."
She expects Rachel to storm out, infuriated by Quinn's stubbornness or frustrated by her failed conviction. Instead she reaches upward and places her hand on top of Quinn's, caressing it. They stand there for a long moment, both relishing the contact but wanting so much more. And then Rachel slips away, pausing before the restroom door.
"You remember everything. I remember everything. If you're too much of a coward to act on what we have and had then so be it." Those words hurt more than any stab to the gut or throw from a charging horse. She stands there for awhile, staring at the beige stall in front of her. This was their first time that they had openly talked about them. The memories. But Quinn had a feeling that it would be the last time.
"It's good," she growls angrily. "This makes it way easier. No more pestering from Rachel." She nods her head a few more times sternly for good measure. Her name is Quinn Fabray. She is born in Lima, Ohio. She's a freshman cheerio at William Mckinley High School. Not some crazy girl who thinks she's a knight in some past life.
But as she finally turns to leave for Cheerios practice half an hour late she collapses to the floor, her cheek hitting the frigid tile of the restroom. Her eyes go in and out of focus and there's the distinct and familiar whooshing in her ears akin to sticking her head out a car window. She tries to fight it. She doesn't want to succumb to the memories and the emotions. She just wants to go be a cheerleader and try not to get killed as Sue Sylvester lactates with rage as her Cheerios screw up their routine. Instead Quinn's eyes are fluttering close and she feels herself begin to float like she's drifting on a cloud.
"Oh knight."
"Princess."
"Do you love me?"
"Of course."
"Saying you love someone is one thing but how long does that last for? You could be fickle and-"
"Forever. I will love you forever even after I die. I will go on loving you for a thousand years when my body is nothing but dust and this kingdom has been destroyed by time. That is my eternal promise to you."
"Oh Quinn."
Don't make promises you can't make you idiot. Because it all just goes down hill from here. Your "eternal love"? It's not so eternal after all. She screws you over too. Hell you both just screw each other over. Because there is no such thing as eternal love. There isn't such a thing as eternal anything.
