Disclaimer: Don't own Glee, just letting the kids run wild.
A/N: The idea for this fic had been dancing around in my head since last year until I eventually started writing again to see what would come of it, and this universe just kind of took off on its own. It's not as plotted as TPS is, but it's been quite a freeing experience so far. I do know where I'd like it to go, but I hope you enjoy the ride as much as I do as it comes to life! It is an ensemble fic (I do like having them together), but this will be entirely in Quinn and Rachel's respective points of view.
Also, I do apologize for any scientific inaccuracies.
Prologue
...
"But better die than live mechanically a life that is a repetition of repetitions." - D.H. Lawrence
...
Just close your eyes, she tells her. Let's make our own fiction.
A story where it is just us, as we used to be.
The girl nods weakly, then shakes violently as she coughs. Hazel eyes look up at her, perhaps for the last time.
She takes a deep breath and holds the perspiring hands, squeezing them and bringing one up to cradle the visor of her suit's biological gas mask as their eyes watch each other from opposite sides of it.
There is nothing she can do but be there, now.
Do you think we were meant to look up at the stars? the girl asks with a dim smile.
She laughs though she is sad and says, Yes.
Will you see them?
Yes, she promises, though she is looking down at her universe. She begins to tell the girl about spring.
They reminisce about that time in April when the girl came to visit from Yale, finally fulfilling her end of their promise consisting of train passes, keeping in touch, and the distance between New York and Connecticut. They talked amongst the flourishing green of Central Park as she told her about her decision to switch to Biological Sciences and grad school, and the girl told her about Neruda and his poems, and about one that began with I want you to know one thing and ended with as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine. And that night they slept together for the first time with talk of more promises and sleepovers, and the distance between New York and Connecticut by I-95, until it was winter and they walked on ice.
It was winter now and the ice was cracking.
The trembling hands bring hers down to cheeks, burning red enough to melt snow. But it is not enough right now.
Will I die? the girl asks plainly.
Yes, she answers.
The girl breathes peacefully and says, Spring will come next year though, as the hazel eyes close.
Yes, she finally repeats. It is but a whisper.
She breathes back the oncoming tears as she runs her gloved fingers through the girl's blonde hair. She checks the vitals on the side of the bed, then gets up to press stop on the video camera. The recording light turns off.