A/N: Glee does not belong to me, and their characters also do not belong to me (unfortunately), they belong to auntie Ryan Murphy and FOX (snif snif). The text in bold are flashbacks and italics are thoughts.
Hey everyone! I wrote this fanfic originally in portuguese (since I'm Portuguese) and posted it here on ff, it is already completed and has eight chapters. But then a friend of mine convinced me to post it in English and here I am. If someone wants to read the portuguese version just go to my profile. I sincerely hope you enjoy this history because this is my first faberry fic. The chapters are a little bit large, so I'll post only one chapter per week, still don't know the right day but I'll let you guys know as soon as I can. Also, I hope you'll forgive me for possible ortographic and gramatical errors, and let me know if it is something really serious, my English is not 100% :)
Anddd... I would appreciate it if someone would volunteer to be my beta reader. That's it. Nice reading :)
Chapter one
I heard shots, saw bodies piled on the floor and blood dripping down my hands before opening my frightened eyes. My first reflex was to look for my rifle hanging on my left shoulder. But I sighed in relief for not have found it. In place of the rifle was my little bag with the few belongings I had, I clung more to him and blinked a few times to get rid of the haze in my eyes and be able to observe better in the darkness.
The truck bounced violently and caused me cold chills even though I was wearing two layers of clothing and a jacket emblazoned with the American flag on my left breast. I felt the wound on my backs burning and although nurse Beiste had done a bandage on it I still felt a lot of pain and mostly very discomfort. I lost count of how many hours I was already sitting in the same position within the small truck with over twelve other women. I glanced quickly through the place, unable to really see anything because of the darkness that reigned. I stretched a hand and lifted the cloth that covered the body of the truck and observed the sky full of stars before he began to clear.
I sighed and went back quietly to close the cloth. It had been a long time since I saw the sunrise without worrying myself about whether I'd be or not alive to see it the next time.
I didn't closed my eyes anymore for the rest of the night. I knew if I did it I would be risking waking up startled and frightened because of the nightmares that tormented my sleep.
"Don't you sleep?" I heard one of the women whisper to me. Although I wasn't seeing her because of the darkness I turned to where I thought she was.
"I am not sleepy." Was my short answer.
"Why? Aren't you happy? You're going home now." She kept whispering. I wasn't really in the mood to start a conversation at the moment, I just wanted to be alone and preferably in silence, but something about that woman made me continue whispering to her.
"That's not it..." I sighed heavily and suddenly felt a twinge of pain. "I'm just ... tired."
"I'm also tired. I think I'm missing home." She replied and I felt her getting closer to me, her right shoulder leaning on my left one. "It's been two years that I don't see my mom and my fiancé Jake. I miss them a lot, I couldn't wait to end this damn war and to return home. Ok, the war isn't over completely, but at least we're going home."
I stiffened when I first heard that word.
Home.
She didn't notice or didn't want to notice my displeasure, I don't really know if she was paying any attention to me as she spoke. I was scared when I felt her hot breath hit my neck, just below my left ear.
"And you? Don't you miss home?"
I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip. My hand went to the small pendant in the shape of a butterfly hanging on my neck and I squeezed it tightly before swallowing the tears.
"I don't have one anymore."
"Oh."
She pulled back a bit from me and seemed to reflect for a moment, making only the roar of the old engine being heard. When I was about to give up and risking to close my eyes for just a moment, I felt her approaching again against my neck.
"What is your name?"
"Fabray. Soldier of ninth division, Quinn Fabray." I replied a little bit more controlled.
"Nice to meet you, Quinn. I'm Marley, soldier of the seventeenth division." I felt her squeeze my arm lightly and I could swear I saw her smiling in the middle of the darkness.
I can't say exactly how long we remained seated and traveling without major stops. I found in Marley a pleasant company to kill time and to camouflage the pain that I felt by being seated on the same position for hours.
"Where are we now?" Marley asked me trying to lift the cloth.
"I don't know, but I think we are close to Bridgeport." I replied tilting my head back and supporting her in the plating. "I think I'll stay there."
"Why will you stay in Connecticut? Do you know anyone there?"
I smiled realizing the curiosity in her voice. "No, I don't know anyone in Connecticut. But it's the closest place to Ohio that we'll stop and I need to go to Lima, my mother lived there. And I also ... before being called to the army."
"Okay then. Wish you luck to find her. "
"Thank you." I thanked her sincerely although I knew it wouldn't find her anymore. "And you?"
"Hmm ... I'll stay in Delaware. How long is your license?"
"Four months, but if everything goes well ... I hope it all ends soon so I no longer have to go back there." I gasped as I remembered all of the battlefields that I've been. "And you? Will you come back or...?"
"My license is three months, but I also hope this war ends before my license ends. And maybe one day we'll meet again Quinn. I enjoyed meeting you."
"Me too."
The next day I was coming down from the truck in Stratford, a small village in Bridgeport with my little bag hanging on my back as I was still wearing the uniform of the U.S. Army, it didn't take long to find the train station and buy a ticket to Lima with the little money that was given to me as soon as I got out the secret camp in Eichewalde, a small town that was about 23 km away from Berlin in Germany. As soon as I got my ticket I searched for the train that would take me to Lima and I settled myself in the place indicated on the ticket. I was tired and just wanted a good clean and soft bed to lie down, but I feared that I couldn't enjoy the bed for a long time because of the nightmares.
When you're in a war, you see things that you'd never would like to see in your entire life. You learn to appreciate life and learn to live your minutes as if they were the last ones and how to prepare yourself to face death at any time of the day despite how much you want to escape from it. Then if it´s not you it'll be your friends and your partners. You'll see them die in your arms helplessly except being there holding their hands and listening to their last requests. Just as I did. And they were so many. Wilde, Jones, Zizes, Lopez...
I opened my eyes scared when I felt a hand shaking me by the shoulders. The sun streamed through the windows indicating that it was already day. I slept all night. And the nightmares were still there.
"Hey girl, will you not come down?"
"Huh? Are we there yet?" I muttered stunned, looking at the man that would probably be the driver, he had many whitish hair and I would risk myself to say that he was staring at me a little upset.
"Half an hour ago, girl. I need you to leave, the next passengers are already coming and if you want to return to Bridgeport just buy a return ticket." He pointed to the ticket office in the train.
I apologized and thanked him warmly, grabbed my bag and hung it on my back. I left the train. I felt a little discomfort because of the injury that was burning in my back, but I clenched my teeth and decided to ignore the pain. When coming down the few rungs of the train I felt the morning breeze hit my face and I took a deep breath, holding once again the urge to cry for being able to enjoy a moment of peace like that without listening gunshots, screams, orders, and explosions... deaths.
I didn't know if I still remembered the way back home. But I think that I could never forget it, I spent my entire childhood and almost half of my youth in that place. I walked on the train station through the crowd, some leaving and others, like me, arriving. Some of them receiving their families, husbands, sons, daughters, wives... others simply saying their goodbyes with their looks, hugs and tears in a silent promise that they would return one day. But sometimes we can't always fulfill everything we promise.
I stopped in front of a white and yellow house, the typical houses of American families. The yard wasn't very big but it had a generous space covered with grass. A small swing creaked between two old shady trees of which I remembered perfectly. The memories of the day my father set up the swing were present in my mind. I remembered perfectly. I closed my eyes and the scene appeared clearly in my mind.
It was Christmas time. I ran across the grass in my yellow Sunday dress, the one I always wore to go to church with my parents. My older sister was shaking her head and my mother Judy was screaming loudly for me to stop running or I would mess up the dress. I remember being so excited for being able to walk on the swing that my father had promised to build as a Christmas present for me and Frannie. As soon as he announced he had just set up the swing I ran to him and hugged him. He then put me over the seat and was pushing me slowly. My mother called him to say something and he pulled away from me, it was when I started to gain momentum and unintentionally my hands slipped from the support and I was projected forward with all speed, immediately falling on the ground screaming in pain. My parents came running to me and my mother almost had a heart attack when she saw all the blood running down my forehead. I broke my left arm, took five points on the forehead and my mother forbade me to swing for at least two months until my wounds stay better.
I opened my eyes slowly and realized that everything had been nothing but past memories. I looked across the place a little lost and then realized a very beautiful garden that framed the front of the house and the mixtures of the flowers colors captured my attention for a brief moment. But it weren't just they that captured my attention. What most caught my attention was the fact that they were alive and seemed to be well cared for and trimmed. I found it odd, because I knew that who always took care of the house garden was my mother. I hoped at least to find it empty since my mother was no longer living there. Seven months after being called in the army, I was still in a camp in Lyon in France before I left to Germany. I received a letter from a neighbor who was also my mother's friend declaring she had passed away.
The only reason that made me want to keep living had vanished. I wondered then, why to keep on fighting? Why keep fighting to live if I no longer had where to come back when everything were over? While others were praying to stay alive, to return to their families and their lovers, I was praying for a bullet to hit me soon. I didn't feel worthy to be alive if I had nowhere to return after the war, I didn't had where to hold myself on, only on the memories of what once were a happy family. Everyone was gone and left me alone... First it came the car accident and Frannie and my father were gone. Then it was my mother with the heart attack.
It was too much to handle alone until I meet an extroverted and cheerful Latin girl who stayed by my side and supported my pain and within the space of about three months Santana Lopez and I could consider ourselves sisters for life. Until she was also gone and left me all alone again.
I straightened myself better and opened the little white wooden door. I approached the entrance and then I climbed the small wooden steps leading to the small porch. I stopped in front of the oak door and then I gave it three followed knocks. I felt a twinge of pain hit me and then I put a hand on my back trying to stop it.
A redhead woman opened the door.
"Good morning." She said.
"Good morning." I replied, not knowing what to do. Who was that woman? "Umm ... I'm looking for Miss Holly Holliday."
"Oh. Okay. Miss Holliday is no longer living here in Lima. She moved to Michigan." She told me blinking excessively.
I was confused. What did she mean with 'she moved'?
"She moved?"
"Yes, she did moved. It wasn't long ago, just a few months ago. I am also new here. My name is Emma Pillsbury-Schuester. "
"I am Quinn." I held out my hand politely. I saw her looking at my hand with a frown, then she looked at me and smiled as if she hadn't just left me embarrassed with my hand in the air.
"She is your aunt?"
"Uh? Who? "
"Holly. She is your aunt? "
"Uh ... let's say she is." I lied feeling my cheeks grow warm.
"Oh, ok. My husband and I just moved in, we are a newly married couple. Holly made us a good price for the house and William didn't refuse the offer. But tell me, don't you want to come in a little?"
"No, thank you." I replied feeling her eyes evaluating me from my head to my toes. I felt a discomfort, but I soon tried to hide it. "She sold the house to you?"
"She sold."
"But ..." it was my mother's house, that's what I wanted to say, but I controlled myself in time. "And you, by any chance, don't have her address?"
"No, she didn't said exactly where she would be staying in Michigan."
Damn it! I thought frustrated. I couldn't believe she had been able to sell the house that was once from my parents and that was mine by right!
In the letter I had received from Holly, she had said that she would take care of the house until the war was over and I was back home. I had no family who lived close enough to take care of the house and I didn't really had many choices, so I agreed with what she proposed me. I thought she really wanted to help, but Holly Holliday was nothing but a cheater who posed as a friend of my mother just to steal her house.
"It's okay, thank you. Goodbye, Mrs. Schuester." I said, conformed, turning my back to the woman not really waiting a response from her. But then I remembered something and turned around before she could close the door. "Mrs. Schuester? Can I ask you one more thing? "
"Sure, whatever you want." She smiled kindly.
"What did she say when she sold the house to you? I mean, Miss Holliday?"
"Umm ... she said she was with some family issues and that she would move to Michigan. She also said that a friend asked her to sell the house to her and showed a power of attorney on behalf of her friend, if I am not mistaken the woman's name was Judy. Judy ..."
I felt my heart race at the mention of my mother's name.
"Fabray? Judy Fabray?"
"Yes, yes, that was her name, I remember now. Judy Fabray. But why are you asking?" She frowned.
"Nothing. Just curiosity ... I think." I lied squeezing the bag in my backs. "Well then... thank you, Miss Schuester."
"You're welcome, Quinn. Come back often, I hope you find your aunt!" She waved me before closing the oak door."
I opened the wood door and left the yard. I sat on the sidewalk a little far away from the house and stayed there for several minutes. Had no other place to stay, another problem to be added to my long list of problems. Hey, at least you're still alive and with all your members in place, I thought sarcastically.
The hours went by and I still sat looking at my former house without knowing what to do and with many questions in my head. Where had arranged a power of attorney signed by my mother? It could only be falsified! My mother would never leave our house in the hands of a strange person. She knew that I would come back alive. She always told me so. That we had to believe before things happen.
I saw the sun set with certain desperation. I didn't had nowhere to go. Didn't had much money and it was barely enough to buy a ticket back to Bridgeport, so, basically, I didn't know what to do. I felt like a prisoner released several years after without knowing what to do or even where to go. Four years away from home weren't a small thing, and although it seemed slightly, the changes weren't few.
When I felt the cold hit my bones I pulled out a khaki jacket inside my bag and put it in the hope that he would keep me warm. But it didn't take long for me to realize that I would need a place to spend the night and maybe think about what to do the next day. I was also very hungry. For nearly two days I didn't put anything in my stomach. I pulled out the money I had left and I sighed when I saw how little it was. I stood up some time later and started looking for a restaurant nearby, one that would grant me something to eat with seven dollars and forty-five cents. After a good few minutes walking in the cold night with my bag on my back, feeling cold, thirsty, hungry and extremely tired, I spotted a small restaurant called Breadstix. I went in and sat down in one of the round tables and waited for the waitress to come bring me the menu. Once I opened it I shrank back while reading the prices. Everything I was able to pay was a cup of coffee and some toasts, and even then I found the best meal of my life. In the army we didn't ate breakfast and they didn't gave us barred warm toasts with butter, only canned food and everything we could get in our backpacks.
For the first time at the day I looked at a clock, one that was attached on the wall behind the counter and I saw that it was already past 10 pm. A few hours later the restaurant had to close and I found myself aimlessly again. On impulse, I went again to the train station. I knew that the train stations were always open because new trains always arrived every moment. I slept sitting and clutching at my bag, leaning against one of the pillars that supported the rail structure.
I woke up panting and with the sun hitting straight into my face. I looked around and realized I was still in Lima train station and that everything had not passed of another nightmare. When I wanted to get myself up, a few coins fell from my khaki jacket that was in my lap. I was confused with the coins because I had spent everything I had on the coffee and the toasts the night before. Still, I picked up the coins and counted exactly seven dollars. I furrowed my brow in confusion. How those coins ended up in my coat?
It was when I saw a chubby lady passing by my side and depositing a coin in my coat which was on the floor beside me. I looked at her in disbelief, but she didn't noticed me and kept walking away. Tears came to my eyes while I was still looking in the direction that the chubby lady had disappeared. I felt a deep sadness take care of me and lowered my head unable to do anything, feeling really useless and worthless. Didn't blame people for thinking that I was begging for coins. I let them put as many as they wanted to. At the end of the day I gathered all the coins and managed to join a good twenty-three dollars and eighteen cents. I ran to Breadstix and ate a real meal. I saved part of the money for the next day and therefore, a week passed by like this.
I washed myself and washed the few clothes I had in the bathroom of the train station. I ripped some pieces of an old shirt I had and cleaned my wound every day, but I always felt a lot of pain when I tried to stretch my arm and sometimes I couldn't reach into the wound because of the pain. It wasn't like taking a real bath, but it was what I had at the time. When we were in combat sometimes we stayed days without a drop of water to take a bath. That was war, there was no time to worry about showering or something like that, and when we had a few opportunities we used to wash ourselves in the few rivers we found and that was it. There, it prevailed the famous adage "kill to not be killed."
Supplies, medicines and food were the most important, they only came in second plan. The first plan was to stay alive until the next day and so on.
I woke up sore on the second week sleeping on the train station. It was Tuesday and the movement in the train station was intense. I didn't know what was happening, but I noticed that the place was more crowded than usual. I planned to gather a little more money and maybe go to New York and try a new life, had heard that the city at the time was the city of opportunities and I couldn't pass an opportunity even though I wasn't sure if she really existed or not. As usual, I went wash myself in the bathroom of the train station then I came back and sat in the same place that I had been sleeping for nearly two weeks. It was when I suddenly heard shouting.
I saw people giving way to a little blond tornado that ran desperate and I also saw a small brunette figure shouting that the little boy had stolen her purse. I saw him go flying in front of me and I also saw the purse he was holding on so tightly in his clumsy escape. I didn't think twice before getting up and running after him with everything I had. The boy gave me some trouble, because besides being shorter than me he was able to run faster and was dodging people like a thunderbolt, I almost lost sight of him. He ran toward the exit doors of the train station and I ran after him like a crazy woman. Actually it wasn't so hard to catch him, as Sue Sylvester would usually say "nobody walks in the army, everyone runs" and in the middle of a war we had to run even more, but despite that he still managed to leave me tired for its efforts.
At a certain moment I fell on top of him and we rolled on the floor near the doors. In one second I was up and was holding him by the collar of the white shirt stuck in his pants by a pair of brown suspenders.
"Hey! What are you doing?" He yelled trying to let go of my hands.
"Did you know that taking things that don't belong to you is wrong?" I said calmly, putting him on the ground and taking the purse from his hands.
"You are not my mother!"
"Of course not! And if I were, you'd be done!"
"Let me go!" He tried to run, but I caught him by the arm and didn't let him go.
"Hey, wait a minute. What is your name?"
"Why do you want to know my name?"
"Besides stealing badly you're still stubborn! I asked what your name is!" I said sharply, shaking him. He looked at me frightened.
"My name is Sam. There, I already told you. Can you let me go now?"
"Why were you stealing this, Sam?" I showed him the purse. Some people stopped to watch the scene and I was honestly giving a damn about them.
"I already told you that you are not my mother!"
"Spill, little boy!"
"Ugh." He grunted annoyed and rolled his eyes. I noticed his big mouth and for a moment I wanted to laugh at his little frustrated face.
"Will you talk or not? If you tell me why I will let you go."
"Ok, ok. I was stealing to buy something for me and my sister Britt eat. We didn't eat anything since yesterday and our mother disappeared when I was six, so I have to take care of her. Kind of a chef of family, you understand? Satisfied now? Can you let me go now?"
"Is that true?" I asked suspiciously.
"Why would I lie to you?"
"Perhaps to make me let you go!?" I raised an eyebrow and then felt him shrink again.
"Well, but I'm not."
I ran the place quickly with my eyes and then I looked at the little boy. He had his head bowed slightly and looked frightened at the people who approached us. He shouldn't have more than eleven years.
I sighed. "Okay, I believe you. Here. Take this." I took a few coins from my pocket and placed them in his hands. He looked at me suspiciously, but once he saw the coins he didn't think twice before accepting them. "Take these coins and buy something so that you and your sister may eat." He was already putting them in his pocket when I grabbed his little arm. "But you'll have to promise me you'll not steal again, Sam."
"Ok, I promise." He grinned. I let him go and shook my head as he ran away and disappeared into the crowd. I knew he was lying; I saw him crossing fingers behind his back.
I returned with the purse in my hands, looking for its rightful owner that by this time should be distressed and sad for its loss. I was looking for a small brunette figure and if I was not mistaken, wearing a white dress with patterned green marbles. I found her a short time later in the middle of a small wheel of people who wanted to know what was going on there.
As soon as she saw me holding the purse she ran to meet me.
"Oh my God, thank you! Thank you very much." She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my neck. "I don't know how to thank you enough, you have no idea of what you just did. Thank you. God! All my documents and all my money is here, I don't know what would I do if that little thief disappeared with my purse, I got distracted for one moment, only one second and the kid appeared from nowhere and snatched my purse. I confess that I thought about running after him, but by the time my brain realized that I should do that he already was so far away that..."
"Hey, calm down. Take a breath." I said, fearing she would have a breakdown in front of me. She then stopped and breathed so deeply that I feared she would end all the air from the train station.
She looked at me embarrassed and I smiled gently.
"My apologies. When I get nervous sometimes I speak without stopping and cannot control myself."
"No problem."
"Okay. But thank you again for having recovered my purse. "
"It was nothing. I only hope all your things are in there."
She looked at me worried and rolled her purse for a few minutes before looking back at me smiling.
"It is all here, thank you."
I noticed she was embarrassed and wasn't looking directly at me.
"Well... then it's all right, right?"
"Uh... I mean, yes, it's all right. Thank you again."
I shook my head and gave her my back.
"I am Rachel."
"I'm sorry?" I turned to her again. I think I was all disheveled and with my face and clothes wrinkled by the mocking smile she gave me.
"I said my name is Rachel."
"Uhm, ok."
"Hmm ... I think now is the part that you say it is a pleasure to meet me and tell me what's your name too, don't you think?"
I blushed at her remark. "Okay, so... I'm Quinn."
"It is a pleasure to meet you Quinn, although the circumstances are not very good and favorable for our presentation." She held out her hand which I shook briefly and then let go.
She was tiny, very soft and warm, like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold and gray day.
Ok, brain. From where I had taken off that?
"Well then... I guess I should go. Thank you again Quinn." She blinked at me before going and gave a popped little kiss in my pale cheek.
I watched her disappear and sat on the concrete step, leaned against a pillar straightening my blond hair down to my shoulders behind the ears. I touched by impulse with my fingertips where she had kissed me and I felt the place getting warm. I stood up and breathed deeply, decided to go to Breadstix take breakfast with the few coins that had remained in my pockets.