Author's note: So, I recently re-watched one of my favorite movies - Meet Joe Black - and this mess happened.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
The partially opened doorway led to a large master bedroom furnished with the utmost simplicity, revelatory of its sleeping occupant, Russell Fabray. Even in his sleep, his face had a commanding quality, though it held a certain warmth to it underneath the fine wrinkles that had gradually developed over the years.
No doubt a man thoroughly hardened by life.
Breaking the bloodless silence that permeated the exquisite room, Russell groans as he clutches his upper arm.
For although he is asleep, there is an uncommon restlessness to him.
The severity of the pain wakes causes him to wake.
Hazel eyes shoot open as the distinguished man squeezed his arm in agony. His breathing ragged as he struggled to compose himself. A breeze comes through the open large open windows, causing a daunting shiver to crawl through his form.
"... Yes." A tranquil voice echoes through the wind.
Russell blinks once, twice, sweat dripping down his face.
Did he hear something?
Did he not?
Furrowing his brow in confusion, Russell releases his arm, and runs calloused hands over his face. His grimace of pain fades as the discomfort in his arm gradually subsides. He rises into a sitting position and reaches for the glass of water perched on a small mahogany desk besides his bed.
"Yes..."
He exhales deeply as the liquid douses his dry throat.
It is unmistakably a voice.
Russell sets down the glass of water and looks around the magnificent bedroom, a testament to his wealth, much like everything else in the Fabray Estate.
He settles back down in his duvets and pulls the covers up. He tries to close his eyes, but his senses won't let him.
"Yes."
The man jolts up again, visibly frightened now.
Wide eyes swivel to and forth across the expanse of the bedroom, but still Russel sees no one there.
There is but solute stillness and silence.
Russell hears nothing but the chirping of crickets down by the river of his Hudson River mansion, lights flicker from a shad-boat from beyond, he closes his eyes but they continue to flutter open, he glances up at the ceiling and finally, exhausted, he succumbs to sleep.
...
The next morning, Russell walks into a lavish breakfast room, dressed in one of his finest suits. Elegant in its design, the room is architecturally unique with its lovely octagonal shape and beautiful wood floors. The expanse of windows is broken up with large baroque curtains; sunlight shines through and warms up the room, a testimony to the beginning of summer.
He takes a seat at the head of the table and immediately, a housekeeper is beside him placing a cup of coffee by his side. Numerous men and woman in white uniforms fill the breakfast table with an assortment of juices, bagels, and pastries.
And a big bowl of berries, Russell's favorite fruits.
"Mr. Fabray, good morning, sir," the grey haired woman greets with the utmost respect.
Russell nods at her in acknowledgement, before his attention is captured by the appearance of his youngest daughter.
Lucy Quinn Fabray, his baby girl, the brightest light of his life.
Brilliant and beautiful, Russell couldn't have been prouder of his little Lucy Q.
"Good morning, sweetie!" he says, mustering up much enthusiasm.
The girl looks up from the files opened in front of her at the sound of his voice, matching hazel eyes meet.
"Daddy, I thought you were in a meeting?" she asks with surprise.
He motions to her to please come sit beside him, Quinn turns to an ever present attendant and kindly asks for a cup of coffee, tucks her papers into her carryall, and crosses over to where her father sat.
"I am. With you."
"And do the members the board know that you're bailing on them to spend the morning eating breakfast with your daughter?" Quinn quips as she takes a sip of her coffee.
The man chortles. "One of the perks of owning your own company, you can do whatever the hell you want."
"Lovely advice, dad." Quinn states with a grin, lifting up her cup to him.
"Yes."
Russell blinks rapidly, shaking his head subtly to clear away the voices in his head. He gazed at his daughter with pondering eyes. "Do you love Finn?"
She almost chokes on her croissant. "...There's a start for a meeting."
"I know it's none of my business -"
Quinn doesn't answer for a moment, then impulsively kisses her father on the cheek. "No, it's none of your business."
She's been with Finn Hudson since high school, Quinn was the head cheerleader and he was the captain of the football team. They were the prom king and queen for both junior and senior year, the perfect high school cliche. They stayed together all throughout college, doing the long distance thing while she was away at Yale for medical school as he stayed behind in New York to get his business degree.
She was confused as to why her father was asking her this question.
Where was this coming from?
Since when did her father become interested in her - admittedly unexciting - love life?
"Lucy Q," Russell began with seriousness in his tone. "Do you love Finn?" he asks again, taking one of her hands in his.
"You mean like you loved Mom?" She regarded him with a contemplative look.
Her parents loved each other through thick and thin, her mother stayed with Russell Fabray even as at his worst, and she brought him out of the darkness and back into the light. He would come home every night after work with flowers, and after dinner they would sit in the entertainment room as a family with her parents cuddling on the couch, her and her older sister Frannie sitting on the floor at their feet, watching episode after episode of their favorite sitcom, Friends.
And Russell loved her till she took her last painful death, collapsing with grief as she lost the battle to her sickness.
No, she didn't love Finn like how her father loved her mother.
Not even close.
Russell puffed out a breath. "Forget about me and Mom - are you going to marry him?"
"Probably." Quinn answer with a shrug, taking another bite out of her delicious pastry.
He smiles softly. "Well, now, don't get carried away."
"Uh oh -"
"Quinn, you're a hell of a woman. You've got a great career ahead of you, you're beautiful -"
"And I'm your daughter and no man will ever be good enough for me." She finished for him, rolling her eyes playfully.
"Well, I wasn't going to say that -"
"What were you going to say?"
"Listen, I'm crazy about the guy. He may not be that smart-" Quinn snickered, causing her father to shoot her a grin. "But he's aggressive, he could carry Fabray Communications into a whole other territory and me along with it."
"So, what's wrong with that?"
"That's for me. I'm talking about you. It's not so much what you say about Finn, it's what you don't say."
"You're not listening -"
"Oh yes, I am. There's not an ounce of excitement is this relationship, not a single thrill-"
"Dad-"
He silenced her with deep look. "Quinn, it worries me. I want you to get swept away. I want you to levitate. I want you to sing with rapture and dance like a dervish."
She nods her head with mock seriousness. "Oh, is that all?"
"Be deliriously happy. Or at least leave yourself open to be."
"'Be deliriously happy', right. Well, I'm going to do my utmost -"
He smiles tiredly. "I know it's such a cornball thing to say, and so unlike me but love...is passion, obsession, something you can't live without. Your mother always used to say that If you don't start something with any of those things, what are you going to end up with? I say fall head over heels, you only live once. Find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find that person? Forget your head and listen to your heart." He brings a hand up to his chest, "I'm not hearing any heart."
Quinn looks down blankly at the breakfast table.
"Run the risk, and if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love - well, you haven't lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived."
"...Bravo." She peers up at him through thick lashes. "Seriously, dad, are those berries laced with something?" Quinn jokingly eyes the fruits in his hands.
"Aw, you're tough."
"I'm sorry. But give it to me again. The short version."
"Stay open. Who knows? Lightning could strike."
Quinn licks her lips, brows furrowing in thought.
"Forgive the lecture -"
"I won't. And when I tell Finn about it, he won't either."
"You won't tell him, and even if you did, he'd clock it and punch it into his iphone in order to pull out some key phrases when he gives the Commencement Speech at Wharton."
Quinn grins widely. "You are terrible."
"I know." He states with a nonchalant shrug. "But I'm the only father you've got."
She kisses him on the cheek.
"Thank God."
...
Quinn inhales deeply as the wonderful scent of brewed coffee beans hits her senses the minute she steps foot into her favorite diner. She closes the door on the heat of the afternoon sun, fully entering the establishment. A thriving eatery diagonally across from the hospital's entrance, customers cheek-by-jowl as a pair of waiters juggle breakfasts served to a noisy throng of doctors, residents and interns. Quinn sits herself at the bar, smiling gracefully at the counterman, who - with a kind smile and a polite greeting - places a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. In a sense, this is a daily ritual, arming herself for the rest of the day.
Just as she reaches for a newspaper to read, she becomes aware of a young woman behind her speaking very loudly into a pay phone within the diner.
Her lips quirk up in amusement as she takes in the vertically challenged girl's baggy owl embroidered sweater, and the bright pink suitcase clutched tightly in the girl's other hand.
"...Noah, as I always say, the show must go on! There's a time to sow and a time to reap, you sow now and forget about her..." The tiny young woman pursed her lips, forehead creasing as she frowned.
Quinn took a large gulp of her coffee and tore gaze away from the other woman's full lips, accentuated by her pout.
She helplessly tried to ignore the conversation going on behind her, and tried to concentrate on the newspaper in front of her, but she couldn't.
There was something about the other woman that kept her attention.
"Of course, I liked her...I don't like her anymore... because you're my Jew-bro and anybody who messes with you messes with me...If I had the money, I'd be on a plane to California in a minute...Listen, as soon as I get my phone in, you're my first call, that's a promise...Where are you going now?... Good, you hit those books, get that degree, and keep cleaning those pools! One day we'll hang out at a shingle together... You bet, bro...I shall talk to you later."
"The slammin' vegan breakfast with a side of blueberry pancakes, commin' up!"
The young woman hangs up, turns around and sits down a few sits away from Quinn to an overflowing plate of egg substitutes, fake bacon, potatoes, and a towering plate of pancakes on the side. An elderly woman at the counter refills her cup of orange juice and the tiny brunette dives into the breakfast, eating it with such relish that Quinn couldn't take her eyes off her.
She seemed to sense Quinn's eyes, glances over, cheeks filled with a mouthful of food, and swallows sheepishly.
"Good morning!" The brunette's grin was blinding. "I was talking kind of loud there, I'm sorry."
"Not at all." Quinn clears her throat. "It was fascinating."
The brunette tilts her head, a curious look on her face. "What was 'fascinating' about it?"
"You and your 'Jew-bro'?"
"My Jewish brethren, Noah Puckerman." The young woman beams. "He and his so called 'sugar mama' broke up after her husband caught them doing unspeakable things to each other in the pool house. He was talking about dropping out of community college...again, and heading home to Ohio."
Quinn bites her bottom lip to keep her laughter in. "I'm sorry-"
"It's okay to laugh, Noah is a ridiculous human being. There's nothing to be sorry about. That's the way with men and women, isn't it?"
"What's the way?" The blonde inquires softly.
"Nothing lasts." The brunette sighs, taking a big gulp of her orange juice.
"I agree -"
"Why?" Chestnut tinted eyes gazed at her with such genuine question that Quinn had to look away.
"I was just being agreeable, now I've got to explain why?" She responds with a hitch in her tone.
The tiny brunette tilted her head with a look of intent, "I didn't mean anything by it, but that 'nothing lasts' stuff, that was the trouble with Noah's woman. She was fooling around and her husband caught her at it. One man wasn't enough for her. She really should've known better though. If her life was a musical, it would've ended up with her spending the rest of her years in her decrepit mansion singing about lost love and regret."
"So you're a one-guy kinda girl?" Quinn asks with a smile.
The brunette glances down briefly at her already half finished meal. "One-girl kinda girl, actually."
A perfectly plucked and shaped brow arches. "Is that right?"
The other girl gives a proud nod. "In the words of my Jew-bro, damn right!" She pauses for a moment before looking up at Quinn with twinkling eyes. "Looking for her right now, actually."
Quinn didn't even bother stopping the smile that blossoms on her face. "Oh, are you now?"
The brunette grins goofily at her. "Absolutely. Who knows? You might be her." She announces with a nonchalant shrug.
The blonde couldn't help but laugh at the girl's lack of tact.
"Well, don't laugh." The other girl's lower lip juts out. "I know I'm not some six-foot tall hunk, but you know, I just graduated from one of the best performance art schools in the city... I have a steady job at a record store... I can bake... I'm, uh, I'm trying to get into this really great apartment."
"Well, aren't you just a catch?" Quinn cuts in with a grin.
The brunette lets out a soft laugh. "Are you a doctor?" Her gaze settles on the beautiful blonde's eyes, transfixed by the flecks of green swirling within the deep pools of molten gold.
"How'd you know?"
"Everybody's a doctor around here." She answers with a shrug, looking around with wide eyes. "This apartment house is all green pajamas and slippers. The guy I'm waiting for to vacate is a doctor. What kind of doctor are you?"
"Internal medicine."
The brunette smiles. "So if I needed a doctor, you could be it?"
"I... could be her." Quinn blushes when the brunette looks at her with an unspoken softness with those doe-like eyes.
"Her." The brunette echoes, a small smile etched on her lips.
"Yes, I could." Quinn pauses for a moment. "I have an office in the hospital."
The tiny young woman beams. "Well, I do believe this is my lucky day. I come to a new part of the city and I not only find a doctor, but a beautiful woman as well."
Quinn looks into her coffee, heat rising to her neck and face.
"I'm sorry, do you mind me saying that?"
Hazel eyes flutter, long lashes tickle cheeks, and pale cheeks color slightly with a hint of pink. "Not at all."
"Well, good. Because you're the prettiest girl I've ever met...but I can see that there's so much more to you than that." She looks away from Quinn, once more, and shoves another forkful of pancakes into her mouth.
The blonde clears her throat. "Thank you-"
"How about another cup of coffee?"
Quinn starts to shake her head, albeit reluctantly. "I've got patients coming in -"
"And I want to get into my apartment and go to work. Please, what do you say, another cup of coffee?"
Two pots are warming behind the counter, the young brunette reaches over and refills Quinn's cup. She pushes a container of sugar and pitcher of milk towards her.
Biting her lip, Quinn begins to fix up her coffee.
They smile at each other.
...
Russell proceeds through a high tech, but tasteful maze of spiffy executive secretaries at burnished desks. Neither looking right or left, somehow Russell- ages to acknowledge their bright smiles and deferential nods despite his swift entrance. He passes through an open set of doors, reaching his own suite, commanded by his assistant.
"Good morning, Mr. Fabray."
"Hello," he greets with a charming smile, entering his office, and closing the door swiftly.
Alone in his office, Russell's ebullient mood immediately changes. Leaning against the back of the couch, he stares out through floor-to-ceiling windows, surveying the Manhattan skyline: cogitates. He takes a seat on the couch, and reaches for a folder on the table in front of him.
Suddenly flinches as a spasm of pain burst through his shoulder.
It is sharp but brief.
He notices it but when it does not continue, he ignores it. He resumes looking at the folder when suddenly the pain comes again. He reaches for his shoulder and tries to massage the pain away, but it does not subside. Russell stands up, trying to shake it off, but it refuses to go away.
Something is unmistakably wrong.
A sound which he has come to recognize, makes itself heard.
"Yes."
Frozen with surprise, Russel's eyes search the room for the source of the voice, much like he did in the privacy of his bedroom.
It comes from no particular direction, yet surrounds him.
Russel's symptoms sharply intensify, and he finds himself sinking to the floor but somehow grabs a corner of the desk, holds on with one hand, with the other clutches at his shoulder and arm, the pain has violently seized the upper part of his body. He breaks out in a sweat, his pallor now waxen as the voice repeats itself.
"...Yes."
He grips the edge of the desk, the pain assaulting him.
The voice continues coming at him from the outer and the inner, each aberration feeding on the other.
"What is going on!" Russell is beside himself, consumed with pain and bewildered by what seems to be a hallucination, but which he is certain is not.
He is possessed. He angles his face in every direction, arbitrarily chooses one and now embarrassingly, unconsciously, enrage, responds to the voice.
"Yes."
"'Yes' what?"
"'Yes' is the answer to your question."
"I didn't ask any question." He all but yelled in his empty office.
"I believe you did."
Russell is absolutely confounded, seized up with pain and consternation at this unseen voice which has such presence and reality.
"Who are you?"
Silence.
"Goddammit, what is going on?"
"I think you know-"
"I don't!"
"Try. Because 'if you haven't tried, you haven't lived'."
A moment.
"What are you talking about?"
"What you were talking about."
Russell gasps when the sound of his voice talks back to him. "What is this? Who the hell are you!" He holds on tight to the corner of the desk, sweat dripping, his skin ashen. He addresses the voice again, searching for it in another direction.
"Tell me who you are!"
"Are you giving me orders?"
"I'm sorry, I-"
"No, you're not. You're trying to 'handle' the situation but this is the one situation you knew you never could handle."
A spasm, the worst one yet, finally it subsides and there is an eerie silence in the room, a desolate void, almost more disturbing than the voice that has filled it.
"Where are you? Are you there?"
"It's enough now."
"Please. Talk to me -"
"There's going to be plenty of time for that."
"What do you mean?"
"I think you know -"
"Know what?"
Nothing.
"Know what, goddammit!"
It was gone.
...
The place has cleared out now, the counterman busy cleaning tables laden with dishes and cups, Quinn still sat at the counter, staring at the young woman before her with barely concealed wonder.
"...I know it's not a very "steady" career," the brunette air quotes, "but...my fathers always taught me to reach for the stars and never settle for things that failed to make me happy. "
"And is that what you're going to be doing your whole life...'Happy'?"
"I know what you're saying." The brown eyed girl responds with a small understanding nod. "Everyone who graduates from art schools and such- they all wanna get out there and prove themselves. It's going to be tough, and I know I won't be making a decent living till at least my third role in some off Broadway production, but that's fine with me. I guess it depends on the woman I marry. Maybe she'd like a bigger house, a better car, lots of kids," she pauses briefly with a wistful smile. "College doesn't come cheap -"
"You'd give up what you want for the woman you marry?" The doctor interrupts with a look of disbelief.
"I would." The brunette's statement was laced with pure honesty.
Quinn get up from her seat, breathing in deeply.
The other woman rises with her, following the blonde as she headed for the door.
"If I married you..." the brunette began with an innocent grin and starry eyes. "I'd want to give you what you wanted, I know it's quite old fashioned and all that but, what's wrong with taking care of a woman? She takes care of you."
"You'll have a hard time finding a woman like that these days."
"You never know. Lightning could strike," The brunette declares dramatically with a charming grin.
Quinn's at the door now, she pauses abruptly, her eyes on the brown eyed woman.
The brunette holds the door for Quinn as they step out onto the street.
Quinn is staring openly at the other young woman now. The brunette wore a kind smile, looking back at her all open and vulnerable.
Her breath catches as she stares deeply into bottomless chestnut eyes. "I-um, I've got to go-" she stutters out, tearing her eyes away.
The brunette catches her wrist in a gentle grip. "Did I say something wrong?" she asks worriedly.
"No," Quinn breathes out shakily. "You said it all so right it scares me."
The brunette shyly lets go of her hand. "I've been thinking... I don't want you to be my doctor." She states in a serious manner, furrowing her brows at Quinn. "I don't want you to examine me."
"Why?"
If possible, the young woman's eyes get even rounder. "Because I like you so much." The tiny brunette smiles sweetly at the stupefied doctor.
'Those eyes are gonna be the end of me,' Quinn muses silently, her eyes fluttering shut as butterflies ravaged her insides.
"You have coffee here every morning, don't you?" The brunette continues on. "If I came by, could you give me the name of a doctor?"
Another moment of quietness passes by before Quinn gets her bearings in order. "Um, s-sure, I'll give you the name of a doctor." When the brunette send her another breathtaking smile, she bites her lip in hesitation. "...And I don't want to examine you."
"Why not?"
"Because I like you so much." Quinn flushes brightly.
They gape at each other wordlessly before breaking out into embarrassed giggles and shy smiles.
"Now, um, I've got to go."
"Of course! I-um-I'll see you."
They step away from other, reluctance evident in their steps. Quinn waves goodbye and hurries down the sidewalk, leaving the other woman to stand there in awe, watching her walk away.
The young woman turns and starts off in the opposite direction, wondering if that truly just happened.
Quinn looks back at the tiny brunette, torn between wanting to run after her, or shout to the sky how right her father was.
Instead, she bites her lip, puffs out a huge breath, turns, and walks on.
The brunette glances behind her just as Quinn faces forward.
The Distance between them widens.
Pausing once more, Quinn turns around once but the young woman is still headed in the opposite direction, her back to her.
She turns the corner and continues on.
Approaching the corner, the young woman looks back for Quinn yet again, but she is gone.
Still turned she steps off into the street, caught up in her thoughts, filled with hazel eyes and pretty pink lips.
Prettiest girl she's ever met.
...
"Run the risk, and if you get hurt, you'll come back."
...
A hospital supplies truck, speeding down the curb lane, hits her broadside. The impact is horrific, the thud echoes as her body arcs through the air.
Another sickening thud as it lands.
...
"Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this."
...
The young woman lies crumpled, still.