A/N: This is mostly dialogue based. Title is lifted from the same song by Athlete.
I'm trying to deal with the trauma that is Glee ending.
The first time it happened, Rachel wanted to forget.
Forget being on Page Six; about Jesse's indiscretion with his co-star who eerily had striking similarities with her. She wanted not to be reminded of being the Broadway Diva whose epic love story has turned into a circus.
The whispers, like a Greek Chorus, played in her head over and over. Enough to drive anyone into madness.
Is she wearing her wedding ring?
Who is she meeting with?
Is that a divorce lawyer?
I wonder if they have a prenup?
She walked inside The Carlyle with the hope of reaching her destination incognito if only to avoid to the discomfort of eyes following her movement. She wasn't worried. Because this could be dismissed as a reunion; a much needed consoling from a dear friend.
Rachel offered a small, broken smile before she shyly entered the hotel room. Shucking her coat off, the diva surveyed the Old World décor and interior nonchalantly, while internally exorcising all nervousness away.
"Something to drink?"
"I'll have what you have."
Her right eyebrow involuntarily rose, impressed at the Moet Champagne offered to her.
"You never disappoint."
"The occasion calls for something exquisite."
Rachel couldn't help but laugh despite the situation. "I'm about to commit infi—"
"I prefer to call it…liaison."
She closed her eyes the moment elegant fingers caressed her face. "Always eloquent, Quinn Fabray," she muttered under shaky breath. Quinn, whose intense gaze did not waver, gave a reassuring smile. "You have approximately thirty seconds to stop this," the blonde said in jest, kneeling in front her, "or any moment. I'm just here for you."
"Don't…don't say that. Don't be that Quinn right now."
"What Quinn?"
"My friend. I don't—don't be my friend."
Quinn nodded solemnly in understanding. "I just need you to—when you feel uncomfortable about this—"
Rachel leaned forward and kissed the other woman brusquely, causing the blonde girl to grasp the diva's shoulder in an effort to hold her ground. There was no need for rituals and ceremonies; no tentativeness, no chaste kisses.
Rachel fought the urge to pull away in shock at how her body responded. She anticipated some form of repulsion driven by guilt and shame. She didn't, however, expect the intense shot of arousal that immediately pooled at her center and a surge of stimulation making her extremely sensitive even to the feel of her own dress. She almost cried. Quinn is making her feel all of this in less than thirty seconds. Quinn¸ at the point wasn't even doing anything yet, except respond to her searing kiss in a calm manner, trying to gain control by slowing down the pace.
That also yielded a new wave of sensations for the actress. The sudden—delightful—realization that the former cheerleader is gearing to take charge almost made Rachel moan loudly. Has this fantasy existed? Was it merely tucked away in the recesses of her brain? There was no time for internal debate at that moment because Quinn managed to position between her legs and was assaulting her neck. The diva was wide open for everything; for Quinn and for everything her body and mind have been aching for since they decided to meet.
There was no turning back, not after Quinn grazed her tongue around her earlobe. Rachel pulled the other woman closer with her leg and mumbled profanity, giving the blonde that one final hint that inhibitions were thrown out.
The passion of that moment was blinding. It was the culmination of the many months that involved phone calls, text and online messages; of innocent banter to blatant seduction.
Alright, so it wasn't really the first time, first time.
There was phone sex. A lot of them.
They have become adept at compartmentalizing— there was amity and there was sex. It wasn't messy and it was very functional. It was everything Rachel felt she needed, to alleviate the pain of a crumbling life with Jesse that began with her miscarriage some years ago. She blamed herself and he had grown tired of convincing her that it wasn't her fault.
She's not ready to publicly admit defeat, though internally, they both are aware that things are almost over. Only a handful know the true status of her life these days. Kurt and Blaine, are of course, constantly on the loop. Santana catches up with her mostly through emails. The Latina used to take flights whenever Brittany is out for her academic conferences, but that was now impossible with having a toddler at hand. And finally, there's Quinn who comes and goes. As one of the emerging hotshots in the playwright industry, the blonde hibernates in the most unlikely locations to find her muse—then shows up without so much as a warning bell.
Everyone else privy to her personal life were paid to paint it better for public consumption.
In an effort to mask their trial separation, Rachel eagerly accepted a recurring role in the newest legal drama set in New York.
Los Angeles, for all its open space, was suffocating her.
One paparazzi-ready goodbye with her husband at LAX and she was off to temporary reprieve.
Rachel resettled in Manhattan with so much ease. That was very helpful given that location shooting is a lot more hectic and intense. None of the difficulties however dampened Rachel's guarded optimism.
Until news about Jesse's infidelity broke out.
Jesse's latest plaything was just one among the many blows; but there was solace in his ability to keep it under the radar. The carelessness over this one was the turning point and the reason why Rachel was seething. It's going to take a whole new level of guerilla PR to make it go away. She certainly did not appreciate the ego-bruising insinuation of gossip blogs that at only thirty two, Jesse was gearing to leave her for someone much younger.
Snuggled up on her window bed, the actress deliberately ignored her phone and instead focused on her laptop, heating up with messages. The diva flashed a genuine smile for the first time in days. For a group of adults, their chat logs were as juvenile as ever. They have the Glee Chat Group and subgroups depending on the purpose.
Kurt: Is he stupid or what?!
Santana: Please powder-face, Finn showed more intelligence than that Neanderthal. RIP Finn.
Rachel: Let's leave the departed alone, shall we?
Santana: I DID type RIP.
Blaine: I think what's more important to know is, what're you planning to do?
Santana: Castrate him. I'm just waiting for Britt-Britt to come back and I'll be on my way to LA
Santana: Can't leave my little Beelzebub alone
Blaine: That question was intended for Rachel to answer (though I'm quite agreeable with your suggestion).
Kurt: Why do you call YOUR child that? (And Blaine, don't encourage Santana).
Santana: Are you in the same room and using separate accounts for this chat? Hilarious. Y'all be rolling your eyes if I call her my little angel, won't you? Just keeping it real.
Kurt: Yes, we're in the same room together with the kiddo. It's more efficient this way. And fine, I concede that your daughter is a potential weapon of mass destruction.
Rachel: ANYWAY
Rachel: To answer Blaine, no, I have no idea what to do. I've been avoiding phone calls and emails from my team and especially HIS team. I just want to be left alone for now.
Santana: … then why the heck are chatting? Go sulk in the corner.
Rachel: Not YOU. Just them. I'm very, very happy that you're all virtually present right now.
Kurt: Except one. Where in the world is Quinn, again?
Santana: God knows. But I shot an email to her a couple of minutes ago. I'm pretty sure after reading the subject: RACHEL NEEDS YOUR HELP, she'll be online soon.
Quinn is now online.
Quinn has joined the conversation.
Santana: Yup, there you go.
Blaine: Your knowledge on Quinn's behavior is freakishly accurate.
Quinn: I'm right here. Why am I the topic of conversation?
Rachel: Don't mind them. Hey, Quinn! :D
Kurt: Why is it that it's only Quinn who merits a smiley?
Rachel: Where are you?
Kurt: I'm a few blocks away from you, like you don't know.
Rachel: … I was asking Quinn.
Santana: God, here we go again. Can we like, put the names before the sentence. Like, if I'm talking to Rachel I'll say "RACHEL, why don't you kill your husband? I'll help bury him."
Quinn: Good idea. Well, for everyone's information, I'm currently in Saint Helena.
Santana: QUINN WHAT THE FUCKITY FUCK ARE YOU DOING THERE
Quinn: SANTANA Because it's beautiful here, unlike your choice of words.
Santana: QUINN You're a bitch and a half
Kurt: QUINN Do you just randomly point at a map and move there?
Blaine: QUINN I'm actually envious of you.
Rachel: AHEM.
Kurt: Uh oh, the diva is feeling unattended.
Santana: Oh, that's right. This is about Rachel's husband banging a starlet.
Quinn: Santana!
Rachel: Given his lack of stamina, I would hardly call anything he does sexually as "banging".
Kurt: O_O
Blaine: Oh my.
Santana: WHO LET THE LYNX OUT?! MEEEYOW!
Quinn: Are you getting a divorce?
Rachel: My move here as you know is a trial separation.
Rachel: A divorce is so…abusive. It's public and it's disgusting how every detail will be talked about on E! I don't think I can handle that right now.
Quinn: Understandable.
Santana: Murder is a way better option.
Blaine: SANTANA You do realize if something happens to Jesse, you'd be the first suspect?
Santana: Monsieur Pompadour, are you schooling ME on crime investigation? Little ol' criminal defense lawyer me?
Santana: Besides, the spouse is always the first suspect.
Rachel: There won't be any murder!
Santana: There will be. And I'm not going to jail unless one of you bitches show this conversation.
Blaine: This is making me nervous.
Kurt: YOU were amenable to it earlier.
Blaine: JUST the castration!
Santana: OH AND BY THE WAY RACHEL, I WOULD LIKE TO CONGRATULATE YOU FOR PORTRAYING ME WELL ON YOUR NEW SHOW.
Rachel: Is that sarcasm or…
Santana: I was actually so fucking flattered I cried.
Quinn: I can confirm she did. She was sobbing like a child. And you really did a great job, Rach. As usual J
Rachel: Well, then. Thank you :D I'm glad I did you justice.
Quinn: Will it change from recurring to permanent casting?
Rachel: I'll find out within the next few weeks. Without preempting it, I'm very much inclined to stay on the show.
Kurt: We should have a celebratory dinner soon, then. Quinn, when are you coming back to this part of the world?
Santana: When she's probably tired of her Japanese doll. It's sad that we have to stalk your Instagram to be updated, BTW.
Quinn: Her name is Keiko and I'm rather very fond of her.
Santana: As in the whale? Too bad I can't make Free Willy jokes cos you lack the willy.
Rachel: Is that an indication of something more serious? ;) If so, all the more we need to get together and meet her!
Santana: How do you find these girls? Like seriously, Q. They're hot.
Kurt: Reminding you that you have a wife who's currently giving a math lecture somewhere.
Santana: I'm allowed to appreciate womankind, I'm not blind, and Britts is not the jealous type.
Rachel: Can you people ALLOW Quinn to talk before going off-tangent? This is like every other conversation we have. And then you wonder why she hardly says anything.
Kurt: Okaaaaaay.
Rachel: So Quinn :D
Quinn: I'm actually fine as an observer in our crazy forum, but thank you, Rach J
Santana: Sweetness overload. Barf.
Quinn: Anyway, hmm, I don't know. I've just been with her for a couple of months. And she's a few months away from finishing her graduate course. So…
Blaine: Oh, she'll go back to Japan?
Quinn: Most likely. I didn't have illusions of anything more enduring.
Rachel: L
Quinn: Aww, Rach. I'll be fine!
Santana: Yup, she'll find a new chick…or dick (I don't know with Q-tip anymore) as soon as Empress Geisha reaches her stopover.
Kurt: Puck was her last boyfriend though…
Santana: It's Christian guilt, her need to have a heterosexual relationship every now and then.
Quinn: I'M RIGHT HERE! Quit it with the slurs and speculations about my sexuality, god. Also, you know we should be consoling Rachel, Santana. This isn't about my personal life.
Santana: Oooh, I hit a nerve.
Quinn: No, you didn't. But it's Rachel who needs our attention.
Santana: Geez, Q. From my end, YOU are the only one who's been mostly absent from everyone and hasn't been doing so well in the comforting department.
Kurt: Okay, let's not go there.
Rachel: Hey! Stop, the two of you.
Quinn: Okay, does anyone else feel the same way? Rachel?
Rachel: Quinn, I genuinely understand that you can't always be there, nor do I've set that expectation on our friendship.
Quinn: But with everyone else, you have?
Blaine: Uhm, guys…
Quinn: So you really all think I'm just the absentee friend?
Santana: Pretty much.
Kurt: Santana!
Santana: … but we love you anyway?
Quinn: Riiight. We are going to talk after this.
Blaine: … be specific? I'm a bit scared.
Quinn: Santana. She's the one being a bitch about this.
Santana: Whatever.
Rachel: Awww, I think Santana's just missing Quinn a LOT!
Santana: You're skating on very thin ice, Rachel.
Rachel: Sanny misses Quinnie :'
Blaine: :D
Kurt: 3
Quinn: Only because Brittany is away. I'm resigned to the fact that I'm her substitute blonde. Without the sex (not these days) :)
Santana: OMG SHUT UP ALL OF YOU IM LOGGING OFF NOW AND QUINN HOW DARE YOU BRING UP ANCIENT HISTORY THAT HAPPENED ONCE
Quinn: TWO TIMES.
Santana has left the conversation.
Rachel: That was very mean of you, Quinn. And highly inappropriate.
Kurt: And really immature.
Quinn: Oh, bother. She deserved it. She'll be back in in five…four…three…
Santana has joined the conversation.
Quinn: See?
Quinn: I'll drop by Boston first thing when I get back.
Santana: Whatever. Your Goddaughter misses you.
Quinn: I miss her and I miss you too :D
Santana: You did not just use that emoticon. Nerd.
Rachel: Well, I'm glad it's settled.
Quinn: I'll call you later, Rach. Okay?
The diva laughed loudly as she reviewed the chat log, because the one thing that's saving her sanity is the insanity that her friends from high school embodied. They understood. That while her problem is no more special or unique than the rest, to be under the Hollywood limelight meant issues were magnified tenfold.
It was Quinn who first expressed her apprehension about the Broadway star's attempt to reclaim Los Angeles. The blonde had gently reminded her of the unique blend of hypocrisy and nastiness that resided in that area.
No one knew more about the struggle against those qualities than Quinn Fabray. At least her younger version. Because the older Quinn, Rachel realized, had finally ditched most of the pretensions that defined her even in Yale. It was a long, agonizing process. The blonde tried theatre acting for a short time, then decided she's too self-conscious to be happy on stage. She ended up in stage management but once admitted that her control freak self is committing slow suicide when unforeseeable things happen during production.
For a while, Quinn was a butterfly in a storm.
Until she found her niche in playwriting through a serendipitous affair with an avant-garde director. It was very fitting—in a roundabout way— that Quinn's journey to self-discovery was with a person who constantly pushed the boundaries of established norms. The undercurrent of the playwright's life had been the usual point of discussion among their tight circle of friends.
Except for Santana—much to Rachel's annoyance. Santana just seemed to know Quinn the way Rachel has always wanted to. The worst part is, Santana just also knew how desperate the diva wanted to be close to Quinn. "You've never outgrown your little obsession with Q," the Latina noted. "Don't you know she gets off by giving you a preview and not a full show?"
"What are you—ugh the images, Santana!"
"What?"
"I just…nothing, never mind. I'm just perplexed about her forthrightness when it's about my life, but…I don't—she's—an enigma."
"She's boring, to be honest."
"Of cour—"
"No, seriously, she's boring. Peel of the layers of mystic, and all you have is a dork who likes to be left alone with her books and journal."
"Why do you—"
"It's not an insult, Berry," the lawyer laughed. "Don't get your panties up in a bunch. No point making fun of her when she's not here to glare at me—I do it for the entertainment value of her nostrils flaring."
"I'm just worried, you know? We're all settled while she's…somewhere with some random person."
"She's not with some—Geez, you make her sound like an STD patient waiting to happen. What does she call herself? Oh. Yeah. Serial monogamist."
"She's proud of that?"
"I suppose it was said in a facetious manner. The lull periods are actually a lot longer."
To say that Rachel's been thrilled that Quinn had decided to give her more than the usual attention was an understatement. In the middle of her marital scandal, her "little obsession" with the blonde was being indulged.
"Hey there, hotshot."
"Mhm, keep it up."
"What're you up to?"
"Reading."
"Do you ever get tired of reading?"
"Do you ever get tired of performing?"
"Lately...sometimes."
"Take a break."
"Read something to me."
"Some other time."
"How come?"
"I'll find a better story."
"Is what you're reading sad?"
"Heartbreaking."
"But I like sad stories."
"Why?"
"It means I'm not alone. Someone's going through something similar."
"You're never alone. I'm—we're here for you."
"Don't let what Santana said affect you."
"There's truth behind what she said. I should be more present in your lives."
"Should…It's not an obligation, sweetie. As long as you're having a fulfilling life, we're more than glad to be part of it in any way."
"I'll come visit you."
"I don't want to be a burden, Quinn."
"You aren't. You never were."
"You always say the right things."
"I don't. You, of all people, should know—you're yawning. What time is it there?"
"Half past twelve."
"Damn it. I'm sorry."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm the one who called…because someone promised me she will but didn't."
"That person's an idiot."
"Oh, yes. But I'm much too forgiving."
"Which is probably why that person is too complacent."
"I love her, anyway."
"I bet she loves you, too. Just…has a weird way of showing it."
"Which is why I'm forgiving."
"It won't happen again."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Quinn."
"I don't make promises I don't intend to keep."
"Unless it involves metro passes."
"… I thought you're forgiving?"
"Yes, but I do not forget…easily."
"I did use them all up."
"Weeks before they expired."
"It's the outcome that matters…and you're yawning again. Get some rest, sleepyhead."
"Not yet. I'm waiting for you to read me something. Your voice would be my lullaby."
"That's either you're telling me my voice is a bore or—"
"It's soothing. I love hearing you talk."
"You're buttering me up."
"Read, Shakespeare."
"Fine, fine.
…Perhaps I am his hope. But then she is his present. And if she is present, I am not his present. Therefore, I am not, and I wonder why no-one has noticed I am dead and taken the trouble to bury me. For I am utterly collapsed. I lounge with glazed eyes, or weep tears of sheer weakness."
"That's beautiful."
"I'll call you tomorrow."
"Promises, promises."
Whether Quinn took it as a challenge or she simply did it out of sincerity, Rachel couldn't care less. Rather than be somber in the set the next day, her co-workers were surprised—and relieved— that the diva was in chipper mood. Most, probably had the impression that this is was her coping mechanism: a façade of cheerfulness to combat the storm. The truth however is, Rachel woke up with her sourest disposition yet— due to a series of nightmares involving Jesse and her acting trophies. Her day merely picked up while on the way to work after receiving a picture message from Quinn. The sender described it to be "Jacob's Ladder" taken from the top of it, and overlooking a town. The caption read: Descent to madness in 699 steps.
"I hope you don't desire to use that. That looks awfully steep. And old."
"I try to avoid any activity that might lead to another paralysis. I can only be lucky once."
"That's a relief. Do take care of yourself, Quinn. I googled Saint Helena this morning, and I must say, while it's really breath taking, it's a place I'm not sure I want to be stuck in if I contract a serious illness or injury, given its remoteness."
"I'm doing well, Rach. You worry too much."
"Okay, okay. Thank you for the lovely photo. I woke up really grumpy but am now feeling better. I'm on my way to a courthouse scene."
"The thought of you portraying an ambitious defense lawyer is extremely gratifying to the senses."
"You're making me blush. You're…up so early."
"Morning walks. I love the sunrise and the hope it brings."
"Reading poetry?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"So read me some before I go in and pretend to be someone else."
"Alright.
…Because you're psychic
no one else could understand me
the way you do and
I say
Drink Me
I say it to you silently
but it calls forth in me
the water for you
the water you asked for."
A/N:
"Perhaps I am his hope. But then she is his present. And if she is present, I am not his present. Therefore, I am not, and I wonder why no-one has noticed I am dead and taken the trouble to bury me. For I am utterly collapsed. I lounge with glazed eyes, or weep tears of sheer weakness." –Elizabeth Smart
"Because you're psychic
no one else could understand me
the way you do and
I say
Drink Me
I say it to you silently
but it calls forth in me
the water for you
the water you asked for."—Rebecca Wolf