Title: On a Clear Night
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Synopsis: Rachel didn't think a few songs could change everything she felt.
A/N: I do not own anything. Song featured in this chapter is "Sugarcane" by Missy Higgins.
Chapter 1: Sugarcane
Rachel had never before felt intrusive in her life. Lacking in certain social graces, she'd always managed to ease her way (or barge) her way into situations where she either didn't belong or wasn't welcome. Mind you, Rachel Berry was beyond your average high school student and beyond most academic expectations; readily she would admit that.
Yet, she had no delusions. She knew what people thought of her: bossy, self-involved, and self-serving. It was never Rachel's intentions to be any of those things, and she didn't believe people took the time to understand her motivations for anything she did. She even cared about the people who hated her the most - for example, Quinn Fabray. The person she was currently hiding from. Well, she was hiding in a sense. Her hand was poised on the door frame, ready to bolt at any moment, because the diva felt her nerves smashing into one another in warning.
Although the pregnancy had softened Quinn slightly, it seemed as if the HBIC had returned the moment Quinn strode through the doorways of McKinley High afterwards. She'd reached a tentative truce with Rachel during the pregnancy, but the first time Quinn had shoved her back against her locker in passing and barked, "Look out, Frodo, you're in my way," Rachel knew it was back to the old games.
Games? Strange way to word it. In afterthought she shook her head and realized quite a few minutes had passed with her pressed to the doorway and Quinn in the choir room playing piano. She'd never realized Quinn could play piano. She was quite sure maybe no one knew this. If they had, they may have seen Quinn was no ice queen. Nobody without a heart could play piano that passionately.
Rachel had never felt intrusive in her life, and the person who hated her the most was alone in the choir room, playing the piano. It was after-hours, and Rachel had returned to retrieve some important sheet music; yet Rachel was pressed, back against the wall, afraid to make a sound.
If Quinn saw her there, she would inevitably throw Rachel one of those glares that shattered the diva's confidence in a second. Quinn could make her feel dismantled in only a second, easily turning her into a trembling mess against a locker. No one else made Rachel cry the way Quinn did. Often Rachel's tears were shed at home, when she recalled a particularly cruel comment from the ex-Cheerio.
As if Rachel wasn't already stunned to silence from Quinn playing piano, Rachel found herself holding her breath as Quinn's gentle voice rose from the sound of the piano keys.
Baby ballerina's
Hiding somewhere in the corner
Where the shadow wraps around her
And our torches cannot find her
She will stay there till the morning
Crawl behind us as we are yawning
And she will leave our game
To never be the same
At the moment, Rachel couldn't quite remember why she'd always made sure it was her that got all the solos. While yes, surely she was destined for Broadway, she could sacrifice a few now and again, couldn't she? Quinn's voice always made Rachel breathless. Beyond breathless, in fact. There were a few times during performances that Quinn would catch Rachel's gaze, and for the briefest second her hazel eyes - usually sharp and unforgiving - would soften.
She felt tingling across her fingertips, and realized she was gripping the doorframe quite hard. Quinn was still singing soulfully from the choir room, unaware that one little Jewish diva was hiding against the door.
So grow tall sugarcane
Eat that soil, drink the rain
But know they'll chase you if you play their little games
So run, run fast sugarcane
You see my peep-show booth is handy
There's a one-way-only mirror
So I can dance here with my hair down
But I don't see if you get bitter
And there's a button right beside me
If I happen to want a wall to hide me
If only the ballerina had one too
Tears pricked at Rachel's eyes as she heard Quinn's voice crack with emotion. She wiped them away briskly, sniffled silently. She wanted to go in there, touch Quinn's shoulder, and just convey that she wasn't alone. Rachel knew what Quinn was singing about. Or rather, who.
So grow tall sugarcane
Eat that soil, drink the rain
But know they'll chase you if you play their little games
So run, run fast sugarcane
Yeah you better run, run fast sugarcane
And she said always be afraid
Yeah you should always be afraid...
The keys on the piano continued to sing out as Quinn's voice faded, although Rachel could hear quiet sniffling, and eventually the count was off. Quinn was distracted; Rachel assumed by her own grief at losing her daughter, at losing her family, and not being able to trust a single person.
Rachel gripped her sweater hard, trying to slow the racing of her heart and the hitching of her breath as tears filled her eyes. Quinn was so good at masking all of her emotions, but Rachel could hear Quinn in the choir room, sobbing. Alone.
Consequences be damned. Rachel pushed off from the doorframe, rounding it quietly, her flats only making brief scuffing noises as they passed over the flooring. Quinn was hunched over on the bench, hands ghosting along the last keys she'd touched. She even cried beautifully.
In that moment, Rachel couldn't understand her own reactions, much less the ex-Cheerio's as she sat next to Quinn on the bench. She couldn't understand why Quinn didn't turn on her, push her off, anything. It was as if she didn't even notice the Jewish diva sitting next to her.
It must be enormously difficult, Rachel pondered, hiding every emotion and concern you've ever had. There was nothing delicate about it, it made you hard and angry. It was clear, as she sat awkwardly next to Quinn, listening to her sob, that it created immense pain beyond description. It took Rachel a moment of nervous breathing to reach over in Quinn's direction.
The diva made a few false starts, hand hovering in the air between them, unsure of herself, before she gently slid her hand onto Quinn's shoulder and squeezed delicately, as if afraid her movement would set the ex-Cheerio off. That's why she flinched and gasped when Quinn collapsed against her unexpectedly, forcing her arms around Rachel's neck, pressing her tear-soaked cheeks against Rachel's shoulder.
Caught offguard, Rachel didn't immediately react. Every muscle across her shoulderblades tensed as Quinn's fingers gripped her tighter. It wasn't her intentional reaction, but after so many slushies and insults and tears, there was no way her body would react the way she wanted to in the moment. It took her some careful observation before the hand that had previously been dislodged from Quinn's shoulder in the sudden death-grip finally slid across Quinn's back. The Jewish diva buried her nose in blonde hair and murmured comforting words against her hair.
"Why are you here?" Quinn's words fall between them, muffled by both sobs and the fabric of Rachel's sweater. "I should be angry with you."
Rachel swallowed, nervously tensed every muscle as if expecting Quinn to pull away and slap her for being there.
Quinn doesn't pull away.
"You should; I would be angry as well with someone who'd eavesdropped on an obviously personal performance of mine. Although my talents are immeasurable by normal standards, I still consider myself very private about certain emotions." Rachel's words come out in a nervous chatter, and her mouth hangs open for a second as she tries to say something else, but her jaw clamps shut the moment she feels Quinn's arms wrap further around her neck.
Rachel can't imagine anything more painful and more emotionally moving than this moment. "Please stop crying, Quinn," Rachel pleads achingly, wishing she could erase the pain Quinn is conveying through her sobs. The ex-Cheerio gripped Rachel's shirt over her shoulders, bunching up the fabric in her palms.
Rachel had never felt so needed, or so welcome. In that moment, she found herself glad she'd left her sheet music in the choir room today. The Jewish diva held Quinn closer, and found herself rocking Quinn gently as if soothing a child. This kind of pain she was unfamiliar with.
Quinn cried as if she was being torn apart from the inside out, but slowly Rachel heard her sobs quiet, and eventually the ex-Cheerio stopped trembling with the force of each sob.
This was the point Rachel expected Quinn to pull away and do one of two things: insult Rachel, or storm out and spend the rest of her life pretending as if this moment had never happened. Or perhaps a combination of both.
She didn't do either of those things. What she did do almost made Rachel gasp.
"Thank you," Quinn whispered desperately against Rachel's shoulder, even as her tears ceased, and she held on to Rachel just as tightly as she did while she was crying.
Rachel didn't know why her heart was beating so fast, or why it meant so much that Quinn had just spoken words of gratitude. Tears clouded her eyes. She couldn't move, even though she knew she should. In fact Rachel should be encouraging them to break apart by now and keep both their dignities in tact. She didn't know why she needed to be needed by Quinn in this moment. Rachel didn't know a lot of things right now.
The Jewish diva only knew that she felt her arms tighten around Quinn.
"I-if.. I mean.. if it means anything," Rachel started, fumbling over her words, trying to distract herself from the hammering in her chest, "it was beautiful and I'm sure ... I'm sure she would have loved it." The diva stammered quietly and buried her nose against Quinn's blonde locks again. "It's okay to be sad," she whispered finally.
The diva hummed musically against Quinn's curtain of hair, softening the pang she knew was about to crash into the girl clutching to her at the moment. Quinn's tears spilled onto her sweater again, and Rachel rocked her quiet.
She knew that tomorrow they would be back to their old selves; Quinn would pretend nothing had happened. Rachel would go back to focusing on her studies and excellent vocal performances, as well as making charts after school to illustrate her long term goals.
Right now there were no long term goals, no charts, no pretending, and Rachel tried to memorize every second of this interaction with Quinn before it was just a daydream.