Administrative Crap:
Disclaimer: Not mine.
So I know a lot of y'all have me on author alert for Life in the Fast Lane. That's on hold for the time being, but will hopefully be finished soon. I kinda sorta got hired out to LA, so I've been freaking out about that for a while. Plus, I want that story to have a happy ending and that's just not gonna happen if I write from my current frame of mind. Sorry.
Anyhoodle. Have some apologetic Faberry romance, as told through a variety of Jewish holidays. I only used the more common ones. Apologies to anyone who's Catholic - I have a lot of Catholic friends, and we trade jibes all the time, so I'm kind of used to being wildly irreverent.
"Happy New Year, Rachel."
Rachel's head snapped to the left, where Quinn Fabray stood beside her locker, having appeared out of nowhere like some sort of cheerleading ninja. Considering the danger that Quinn posed, and the speed with which she could strike at any moment, Rachel was surprised to find that she absolutely had not been on the look out for her.
It was the morning of Rosh Hashanah, but how would the other girl know that? Moreover, why the hell would she want to talk to Rachel about it? Bewilderment overtook Rachel's mind as she locked eyes briefly with the blonde, before Quinn smiled gently and turned away.
"Happy New Year, Quinn...?" Rachel mumbled after her, but she'd never be sure whether the soft words fell on Quinn's ears or were swallowed up in the chaos of the hallway.
She spent the rest of the morning in a contemplative daze. When lunch rolled around and Quinn was sitting with the rest of the cheerleading squad, laughing as Santana slid out a delicate ankle to trip the freshman unfortunate enough to walk past her with a full tray, Rachel released her confusion with a sigh. By the next morning, it was all but forgotten.
For a few spare moments, Rachel had pondered the possibility that Quinn Fabray might be changing. She was a little disappointed, but not surprised, to see evidence to the contrary.
Rachel sighed in contentment and laid back on her bed. She had just gotten home from the Yom Kippur service and, having immediately shucked off her uncomfortable formal clothing, was now reclining atop her bedspread and meditating quietly on the sermon her rabbi had delivered. Yom Kippur was always a serious affair, and her rabbi had not disappointed. As usual, she had plenty to think on.
There came a knocking on the door. Rachel frowned. Her dads were upstairs as well, readying for bed. She decided to spare them the trouble and pulled on a t-shirt and some yoga pants before going down to answer their late-night visitor. Always cautious, she looked quickly through the peep hole. This late at night, it wouldn't be surprising if the "visitor" was really some bible-thumping crazy come to demand her fathers' repentance.
It was about 11PM.
It was about 11PM, and Quinn Fabray was knocking on her door...?
So she was right about the bible-thumping crazy part, at least.
"Hello, Rachel." For some inexplicable reason the blonde cheerleader was standing on her doorstep, knocking on her door, and exchanging pleasantries at 11 o'clock at night. On a Friday.
"Um, hello, Quinn. How are you tonight?"
"Good, thanks. You?"
"I'm... fine...?" Rachel replied haltingly. This might just be the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her, including that time Finn attempted to use a football as an analogy for how attractive he found her. "Was there something you needed?"
Quinn's eyes dropped to the ground for a moment, then flicked back up and held hers as determination swept over her face. "Yeah, listen." She took a breath. A deep one. Rachel's eyes widened and she mentally braced herself – this was probably going to be catastrophic. "I've been a royal bitch to you, Rachel, and for absolutely no reason at all," Quinn sighed out.
Rachel had never been more confused in her life. Never. She had the feeling it was written all over her face, judging by Quinn's grimace.
"I've called you names, had you slushied, drawn pornographic pictures of you in the bathroom, bashed your talent and your dreams, and otherwise tormented you in any way I could think of." Quinn's face looked suspiciously remorseful. The night somehow got even weirder for Rachel. "I came to say I'm sorry, for all of that," she finished with a firm nod.
"What are you-?" Rachel poked Quinn lightly in the shoulder, just to verify that she was real. She yanked her hand back in shock. Quinn was either actually in front of her right now, in the flesh, or this was the most realistic dream she'd ever had. "I'm so confused right now. Why are you apologizing?"
Quinn sighed again. She'd been doing that a lot tonight. In fact, Rachel noticed, the other girl looked exhausted. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry," the cheerleader replied in a small voice. "Maybe you can find it in yourself to forgive me?"
What. No. What? What the hell? You have got to be kidding me! Rachel had just spent the past two hours begging God to forgive her for her sins; now Quinn Fabray stood before her, attempting to absolve herself over the course of five minutes. She huffed at the audacity, and felt the barest tendrils of rage begin to surface from her confusion.
Her rabbi had said that God commanded her to be holy because He was holy, but she already knew that there was no way she could even begin to put Quinn's many and varied transgressions behind them, even in the interest of fostering that elusive friendship she had sought for years.
So she pulled a small frown and said, "It's all well and good to seek forgiveness, Quinn, but unlike our Catholic cousins my people believe that asking for forgiveness means recognizing that there are things about yourself you need to change, and then changing them. You can't stand on my doorstep and offer me half of an olive branch. I'm sorry."
With that, Rachel shut the door gently in the other girl's face, flicked the lock, shut off the lights, and went up to her room. She fell face-down on the bed, pulled the covers over her body, shut her eyes, and spent the rest of the night trying not to think about what had just happened.
Hanukkah began at sundown on a Wednesday this year. That very Wednesday morning, Quinn walked up to Rachel and handed her what appeared to be a gift. Rachel stared at it, stared at Quinn, and then stared at the package again. When Quinn finally walked away, she placed it in her locker, shut the door, and tried to ignore it until the end of the day. When she got home, she tore off the wrapping paper, discovering a card tucked inside of the box. The face of the card said simply "Happy Hanukkah" and within there was a message. All that Quinn had written was "I'm still sorry," with a little gold star sticker following the sentiment. Rachel stared at it for a few moments, thinking that Quinn had genuinely beautiful penmanship.
They were on holiday break for the remainder of Hanukkah, and Rachel shivered with relief. This was unusual bordering on awkward. She didn't really want to have to see the other girl at school and, thanks to the Ohio school board, she wouldn't have to.
On the second night of Hanukkah, the doorbell rang. Rachel walked up to the door, looked briefly through the peep hole, and then stared at the doorknob as a very mild sort of trepidation settled in her gut. There was no one outside. Just another box, covered in the same plain wrapping paper, with her name scrawled across the top. She nudged it with her foot, thinking crazily that it might be some sort of bomb. Finally she picked it up, carried in into the dining room, and set it on the table.
"Who was at the door, honey?" her Daddy asked.
Rachel continued to state dazedly at the package. "A box. A box was at the door."
Her Dad chuckled. "Looks like it's for you, sweetheart. You should probably open it."
With shaking hands, Rachel reached forward and neatly removed the box from its wrapping. Within, she found a small teddy bear, holding a small sign that said "I'm sorry!"
Her Daddy grinned and said, "Look at that, it's adorable."
Her Dad was less thrilled. "Please tell me its not from that idiotic Finn boy."
"No, it's from Quinn," Rachel mumbled, poking the bear distractedly with her fork. This was getting weirder every day.
It continued like that for the remaining nights of Hanukkah, and by the end Rachel had acquired several sheets of gold stars, at least half a pound of gelt, a bedazzling kit, and a phone number along with a note that said simply, "So you can call me if you ever feel like it."
They were all cute gifts, sure, and she begrudgingly admitted that it was a sweet way for Quinn to go about essentially campaigning against her better judgement and continuing to seek her forgiveness. She was still confused, however. The girl had tormented her endlessly for the past three years. Why was she apologizing for it now? And why had she started this ridiculous campaign on the Day of Atonement? Was she actually serious?
The questions were beginning to drive Rachel mad. She let them bounce around in her head for a few days before finally breaking down and calling the phone number Quinn had provided. It was January first.
"Hello?"
"Happy New Year, Quinn," Rachel said.
"Oh! Happy New Year!" Quinn's voice was disturbingly cheerful, and Rachel could just about hear her smiling through the phone.
"So, um, how were your holidays?"
They chatted idly for a few minutes before Rachel excused herself, citing dance lessons. After she hung up the phone, she flopped back onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling, glaring at it as if it might somehow know what the hell was going on with Quinn. She decided to withhold judgement until they were back in school.
When classes started back up, Rachel watched Quinn like a hawk. She didn't seem terribly different, but Rachel couldn't be sure. Santana was a little too wrapped up in Brittany lately to wreak her usual havoc, and she tended to act as the physical manifestation of Quinn's inner evil. Without the latina around, it was difficult to tell if Quinn was being nice or had simply not been offered the temptation to be cruel.
Rachel watched the blonde girl for a solid week. It probably constituted stalking. She decided not to dwell on it.
That weekend, she showed up at Quinn's door. The blonde smiled her welcome and ushered her in. They sat in the living room and had coffee. It was freaking weird.
Over the course of the remainder of the school year, Quinn and Rachel managed to actually become friends. They went to the mall, they watched movies, they painted each other's toenails unusual colors. They even crashed a party or two, got hammered, and laughed like idiots the whole way home.
Rachel had decided that it was Finn – or rather, the lack of Finn – that allowed them to finally develop a friendship. She had concluded that they got along now because neither of them was even remotely interested in him anymore.
She was wrong.
Rachel had just finished putting away the delicate china her fathers had brought out for their Passover seder when the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find, once again, Quinn Fabray's ridiculously attractive – she had determined that it was the symmetry that made it so attractive – face. This is becoming a trend, she noted.
"Good evening, Quinn."
"Hey, Rach." Quinn smiled. "Can you, uh, come out tonight?" She looked a little nervous.
Rachel knew the blonde was up to something, she could see it in the subtle shift of her eyes and the light blush on her cheeks. And besides, she had a sixth sense about these things. "Yes, I should be able to. Let me go get changed. You can come in." She held the door for the taller girl, then left her in the living room while she went to go get changed. She was just able to catch a glimpse of Quinn's knee bouncing restlessly as she sat on the couch.
When she came back downstairs, her dads were settled in the loveseat across from Quinn and an awkward silence had fallen over the room.
"You ready?" she asked. Quinn nodded, a few strands of short blonde hair falling across her eyes. Rachel thought briefly that it was adorable.
It turned out they were going to the movies, to see some random chick flick that had just come out. Rachel blamed the tears that welled up in her eyes on the mediocre acting rather than the main character's conflict with her estranged second cousin.
Quinn took her to the Lima Bean afterwards, and they sipped slowly on warm beverages as they discussed the film. Rachel verbally tore the movie apart, and Quinn just smiled and listened. It was a pretty good night.
When they wound up back at Rachel's house, Quinn walked her up to the door and nervously stuttered out, "I had a good time tonight..."
Rachel suddenly caught a clue. Like, a clue loomed up from out of the shrubbery growing alongside her house and smacked her across the face. This was a date.
Wait. Quinn Fabray just took me out on a date?
"I was thinking maybe we could do it again sometime?" Quinn asked, shuffling her feet awkwardly against the concrete walkway.
Rachel smirked. This was so a date. "I suppose I could be convinced," she said coyly, "if I get to pick the movie next time."
Quinn laughed gently, and it rang like the cliched tinkling of bells in Rachel's ears. She really had no choice in the matter when she leaned forward and rested her forehead against Quinn's. The blonde's breath ghosted across Rachel's lips, and then suddenly they were kissing, and it was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her. Quinn's lips were soft, and she felt a little fragile in Rachel's arms, but if the blonde could manage not to break then Rachel thought maybe she could figure out a way to never stop kissing Quinn Fabray.
On Yom Kippur, one year after Quinn first apologized for being the school's biggest bitch to Rachel, the blonde once again found herself with Rachel, but this time they were at the brunette's new temple in New York City, and they were about to get thrown out for making out in the darkened hall that led to the temple's undercroft.
When they got back to Rachel's loft apartment, the girl looked at Quinn through darkened eyes and said, "I think you've still got a good amount of atoning left to do."
It was the least solemn atonement Quinn had ever performed.