AU: I've been working on this fic for too long - it started out as a little story I was telling my brother, and then grew into an actual fanfiction. My first Faberry fanfic, so I'm pretty excited, and I really hope you like it.
Reviews and queries are strongly encouraged! (you may also send them to my tumblr (thecapitolwhore), if you wish). Feedback makes me want to update faster!
Trust Me
"You said it was no problem! You told me that I wouldn't have to worry about it again – because you had it covered! This is not covered – she is not covered!" the frankenteen paced his bedroom floor, kicking stray objects out of his way as he walked. His whole form visibly trembled from his increasing rage. He spoke into a small mobile phone, pressed firmly against his left ear.
The responding voice was calmer, as if they were merely discussing a sunny day or the latest news in a politic run; "We apologise for this delay, Mr. Hudson but our -"
She was cut off by Finn's livid tones, as he barked out a humourless, cruel laugh. "Delay? No, no; you had your chance – you failed. And now I have to pay the price. I thought you guys were supposed to be professional."
"There are always cases where success takes time; this is not unusual. All we ask is that you remain patient in the meantime."
"I've been patient! I've waited weeks for you to actually do something and when you do, you fail!"
It was evident in the woman's tone that her own patience was running thin; however, it was the word 'fail' which seemed to irk her more than anything else the young teenager had said. "Mr. Hudson, we understand your -"
"No! No, you do not. For god's sake, stop telling me 'you understand'! What I want you to understand is that you didn't keep up your end of the deal! It's been over two weeks and I am understandably pissed off," Finn kicked a soft toy out of his way, so it ricocheted off his door with a helpless squeak. "What kind of company do you even run? You know what, the deal's off. You can forget being paid too."
The change in his correspondent's tone was enough to stop anyone in their tracks, so when Finn almost tripped up on his own feet, it wouldn't have been too much of a surprise to the invisible woman. "Mr. Hudson, I think you need to remember who you are talking to," there was a short pause before she spoke again. "...and what our line of work involves."
Finn paused, his heart thumping unnaturally fast, although not from anger. He stared at the floor of his bedroom and despite his wanting to throw the phone at his wall, he told himself to calm down and focus. "Yeah," he replied, somewhat shakily; his anger was still there, though under some control now.
"Good," she spoke as if she had just taught a lesson to an insolent child. "As I was saying, we understand your anger but we are accustomed to these sort of scenarios and we can assure you that your particular case will be dealt with as soon as possible; even now, we are working on it and I can personally promise you that you will receive your money's worth by the end of the month. Thank you." The line clicked and was silent.
There was a long pause, filled only by the sound of Finn's heavy, angry breaths; he cursed the woman, he cursed her company, he cursed their idiocy but above all, he cursed -
"Quinn," the knock on the door and familiar (albeit strangely shy) voice made the blonde jump slightly in her chair. "Can I come in?"
Rachel had been wanting to visit Quinn for too long; she felt an immense amount of guilt about her former bridesmaid's accident, not least because it was her wedding that Quinn had been rushing to, but had found it difficult to actually see the girl.
It had been a week since Quinn was hit by a truck; it was nothing short of a miracle that she'd survived. Her hospital room had been filled to bursting point with gifts and cards, all willing her to get better. The Glee Club would come to wish her well everyday, singing to her and keeping her up to date with what had been going on. Everyone wanted to see her – well, almost everyone; the guilt-ridden Rachel couldn't bear to see the broken girl in her hospital bed. Therefore, an impatient wait until Quinn's escape from the white, anaesthetically stained walls of her hospital room had begun for the brunette.
Unable to go upstairs, the downstairs living room had been transformed into a make-shift bedroom, upon Quinn's return from the hospital. Her mother had carefully installed disability-bars in the bedroom and connecting bathroom to help Quinn regain some of her independence when necessary.
Nearly everything from her old bedroom had been moved downstairs to recreate her haven. Her mother had made a huge effort to make Quinn feel comfortable, and her daughter couldn't be more grateful; she had even hung up fairy lights around the frame of the French doors that led out to the garden.
"Of course," Quinn called from behind the closed door. Rachel took a breath before opening the door, afraid that she would be met by a bruised, battered Quinn that was so much worse than the picture the Glee Club had described to her. Instead, she was met by a girl who was still as beautiful and lovely as ever, with a warm, welcoming smile on her pink lips; the only difference in her appearance was that she was sitting in a big, metal wheelchair.
And yet, Rachel still teared up at the sight, just as she promised herself she would not do. It was not only the guilt and regret that consumed her but she hated seeing her friend in such pain.
"I-I brought you this," she produced a CD from her bag: the Funny Girl soundtrack. It was the original Broadway soundtrack too – and Rachel's favourite musical.
"Oh, Rachel!" An involuntary smile found her lips. "Thank you!" She appreciated the gift far more than she thought she would, lifting her hands from her lap to wheel herself over to Rachel and take the CD, her fingers lingering on Rachel's for half a second before the contact broke.
Rolling over to the CD player, which sat on the floor, cushioned between her bed and bedside table for the optimum listening experience, she carefully removed the disc from its compact and placed it into the CD player. Almost instantly, the Overture swam into the bedroom, filling every crevice with its delicious notes, giving life to the basic furnishings of Quinn's new bedroom, and encouraging everything and everyone to dance to its lively notes.
"You'll love track eleven," Rachel said, after a moment; the music had danced her over to Quinn's bed, where she now perched, less than a foot from Quinn.
Quinn chuckled, picking up the CD case again. "Let me guess... 'Don't Rain On My Parade' is eleven?" she asked, casting her eyes down to the listing on the back of the case. A couple of seconds later, she nodded. "Yep, right as rain – excuse the pun," she added, rolling her eyes at herself.
Rachel's lips stretched into a huge, beaming smile; she wiped her few tears away with the back of her hand. "I thought you'd appreciate it; Barbra always cheers me up when I'm upset," she said.
"Then I think we need to play it a little louder, otherwise we may just drown," Quinn teased, turning the music up a few extra decibels. "Don't be sad, Rach. I'm happy. You should be. I have plenty to be happy for."
Rachel nodded in agreement. "I know, I know; I'm sorry, Quinn – for crying, like this," she amended quickly, aware that Quinn didn't want her feeling so guilty, even though Rachel couldn't help it. The brunette's smile was still present, however.
"Barbra really is brilliant," Quinn said conversationally, rolling her chair around so she was facing Rachel. "You're brilliant too, Rachel. Just as good, in fact – if not better. You are gonna be a huge star one day," she told her, her eyes shining with genuine honesty. She wanted Rachel to go far. Out of everyone in Glee Club, Rachel definitely had the most passion and ambition for the arts. Of course, there was no doubt that all in the Glee Club loved music but Rachel was the star. She was the burning fire that kept them all going. Unfortunately, there was little appreciation for her excellence now but when she hit the big-time, everyone would be quick to announce how much they had loved and acknowledged the great Rachel Berry when they knew her.
Was that a blush creeping up Rachel's cheeks? "I wish I was. Barbra is just... perfect. I could never reach that level of perfection. I can only hope to exceed the average singer's abilities and make do with that. That's all I've ever wanted," Rachel paused, a cheeky smile overtaking her bright features. "That and three Tonys by the time I'm thirty."
"Only three?" Quinn queried, an eyebrow raised and her eyes connecting with Rachel's, before each girl broke out in laughter. Quinn was certain Rachel could take the world and more if she wanted to. She believed in Rachel Berry.
The album's second song, "If A Girl Isn't Pretty", came to its conclusion and finally Queen Streisand's epic tones filled the room, telling the world, "I'm the Greatest Star," and meaning it. Not that either girl present could argue.
"Well, I'd better go; my dads will be worried," Rachel said, almost regretfully, when the CD player clicked, announcing the end of the Funny Girl soundtrack for now. The girls had spent most of the soundtrack singing along with it, although Quinn permitted Rachel to take the solo for the eleventh track – anyone else singing it would be unthinkable. They had discussed Glee Club and their futures during the quieter moments of the soundtrack, its music filling the times that conversation lulled and they had fallen into silence. Quinn had discovered that, initially, Rachel had wanted to be a princess, not a musical stage actress, whereas, in turn, Rachel found out that Quinn had her own fondness for vegan cooking – but her love for bacon would forever prevent her from pursuing a strictly vegan lifestyle.
The clock struck seven and Rachel stood to leave; however, it was Quinn who rolled forth and pulled Rachel down into a tight hug. No words were exchanged but no words needed to be; there was only Quinn and Rachel, friends.
"Quinn?" the brunette paused by the door, her fingers silently tapping the wood of the door frame.
"Yeah, Rachel?" Quinn had been watching her friend leave with a weird forlorn feeling and the pause caused her heart to involuntary and inexplicably bounce.
"Thank you, for talking to me, I guess," Rachel said quietly, finding it difficult to find the right words but her eyes twinkled all the same, as if there was some hidden secret behind them that she was trying to express – while simultaneously ensuring it remained a secret.
"Any time," answered Quinn. Rachel closed the door behind her, leaving Quinn in her wheelchair and her heart hitting her ribcage a mile a minute.
"Miss Fabray, if you would sit here please."
The office was not as busy as Quinn predicted it would be, especially in these peak hours of the day; only a few officers wandered back and forth across the large room, all with the same stern, deep in thought, frown moulded into their features.
Quinn Fabray wheeled her chair over to the detective's desk, looking around the room with mild interest and tired eyes from the long day. This was the first time she had been called to the Lima Police Department since her accident and its own subsequent questioning, and a few ideas had popped into mind as to why; few of them were positive.
Ms Belle Fair was not as attractive as her name suggested; with a haircut that belonged in the '80s and an upper lip in desperate need of a wax, this twice-married detective was not going to win Miss Ohio any time soon. Then again, neither was the blonde in the wheelchair.
The detective wasted no time in telling Quinn why she had been summoned.
"We believe someone was stalking you," she said frankly, but she gave Quinn no time to react as she hurried on; this detective obviously believed in a no-nonsense, tell-all approach. "Jonah Riley – the truck driver, as you know – he has been connected to some elite, black market organisation; we don't yet know the nature of this group but we can now confirm that the crash was not an accident – in fact, Riley had your photograph in his wallet, leading us to believe you were a target, most likely for murder – although we cannot be certain, only assume. It was just chance that you happened to be texting at the time (a fact I must remind you the Ohio Police Department has not taken lightly), but it gave him good opportunity to make it seem accidental.
"As for his epilepsy records, they were faked. I had a team investigate Riley after the collision and his records were found to be quite superficial – evidently whoever had created them didn't do a very thorough job of it."
She paused, taking a breath and staring Quinn directly in the eye as she continued, indicating to Quinn the importance of what she was about to say. "Miss Fabray, what I'm trying to tell you is that I think you may still be in danger. Whoever orchestrated the attack knew what they were doing. However (if there is a brighter side to be considered), it seems they are getting sloppy – this case mirrors one back in '07.
"Nonetheless, the Ohio Police Department believe it would be in your best interest to have an armed guard watch over you for the foreseeable future. However, do not fret, as this is only a precautionary measure; the chances of future danger are very low. Officer Jensen will be watching you for the time being. You will be perfectly safe," the serious, business tone that Detective Fair had been using up to this point changed to a chirpier, positive one as she finished her speech. The change of tone did not fool Quinn.
And then there was silence. Quinn stared at the middle-aged detective with the shock of someone just told they've contracted a life-threatening illness (not that this situation was completely opposed to that idea). Beside her, Judy Fabray weeped miserably, repeating, "why, why, why?" under her breath.
"Someone's trying to kill me?" Quinn summed up, her voice reduced to a hoarse croak. Judy nearly choked on her own sobs at the word 'kill'.
Detective Fair paused, only just regaining her own voice back after her speech. "That is a possibility."
Quinn's world crashed.
She was a strong girl, no doubt; she had braved a teen pregnancy, been kicked out of her home, lost and gained and lost her popularity (and status as head cheerleader), loved countless people and hated just as many, been accepted into a club she initially set out to destroy and only a few weeks ago, was accepted into the prestigious Yale university. She had been halfway to Hell and back, and she was only eighteen years old.
But now she was there – and it burned.
"I need to go," she said suddenly amidst the tears that refused to halt. "I have to get out of here."
The detective was about to argue, stress the importance of her staying and their discussion of plans of action. She had to tell the girl how sorry the Ohio Police Department was and how they would do all they could do to keep her as safe and comfortable as humanly possible.
The look in Quinn's eyes told Detective Fair it would have to wait.
Without asking permission, Quinn spun her chair around and sped out of the now silent office (evidently she hadn't been the only one listening to Fair's speech because every wide eye followed her out).
The unmarked police car drove her to school, parking outside the empty back entrance to the school. Quinn had to take that entrance now anyway, it having the school's only ramp and being as steep as Niagra Falls is dangerous.
Officer Adam Jensen was in his late 20s and had the kind of good looks that every teenager would dream about. He had a large muscular frame and short brown hair, with a determinedly serious expression almost permanently glued onto his handsome face. Despite this, a cheeky, different spark of life still glinted in his focused eyes.
He didn't aid Quinn in her arm-numbingly sore climb up the school ramp; instead, he sat in his driver's seat, fumbling with his papers and such. Either he was trying to be discreet, in case someone came along and saw them, or the more likely option that he was a thoughtless bastard.
Jensen would be spending most of his time hidden away at the back of the school, mobile in hand should Quinn have to call for any reason; other than that, he would travel with her to and from school. Fortunately for him though, he lived on the same street as her, so staking out in front of her home wasn't compulsory.
The watch would last two weeks, with an additional week or more available if Quinn and the Ohio Police Department felt it necessary. The organisation that Riley supposedly worked for was known for getting jobs done quickly so an attack in the near future rather than later was more likely, especially after an initial failed attempt.
Quinn's school day was pretty average, all things considered; well-wishers followed her about all day, teachers decided to take Miss Pilsbury's job, bullies and jocks mocked her, Artie showed her the ropes and the Glee Club was, well, accepting.
Rachel sat next to her in Glee Club.
Finally, after a long day of taking notes and prepping for oncoming exams, the last bell rang and the Glee Club rose to leave.
Finn wanted to vacate the room as fast as he could when school ended; just looking at Quinn made him feel sick. Seeing her wheel herself around in that huge metal chair and fawned over by everyone who passed her by, as if they had been friends for years, he was nearly running to the bathrooms.
Rachel, on the other hand, was doing all she could to ensure Quinn's comfort; the guilt that had encased her heart, soul and mind had eased only slightly since her visit to the Fabray household. She was by Quinn's side every chance she got, carrying her books and pushing her wheelchair all over the school. A glare and berating was awarded to anyone who dared to try and upset the broken girl. Rachel was both a fierce rottweiler and a warm, glimmering presence that lit up the darkness in Quinn's current world.
As for Quinn, what could she do to stop this constant attention without causing Rachel any more pain. Truth be told, Rachel was doing a far more superior job than the silent Jensen, still seated in the wheelchair-friendly people-carrier outside, who was quite probably reading his newspaper contentedly or texting his girlfriend.
Quinn had to shake Rachel off at the back entrance though, despite protests that Finn and her would happily drive the blonde home. "I have a ride, thanks," Quinn told her gently to the dismay of her eager friend.
"Just... be safe, okay?" asked Rachel nervously; she felt fearful for Quinn, even though, for all the brunette knew, there was no apparent danger ahead.
Quinn was about to make a light-hearted joke about her already being in a wheelchair when she gazed into Rachel's warm brown eyes, full of care and concern for Quinn, and told herself firmly that it was too soon to say such things. "I'll be safe," Quinn confirmed with a grin that could charm a snake.
Rachel bent and kissed Quinn's cheek, giving her a tight hug at the same time, before heading down the corridor with her solemn boyfriend. It was only two minutes later when Quinn had just sped down to the bottom of the ramp that both of the girls simultaneously realised what had happened.
Rachel had kissed Quinn.
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