Disclaimer: I do not own either Glee, Spring Awakening, or any other production that may be mentioned.
Author's note:
1-I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors that may occur, or inconsistency in plot that may be sensed.
2- This story revolves around a sort of long distance relationship, so it's seemingly dialogue based with occasional intervals of narration. It's also over a course of several years, so it will move fairly quickly. That's all, enjoy :)
September 2016
Early morning, the sun was bleak, yet there was still some light shining through the blinds. The alarm rang out, rather obnoxiously, as it always did. All together, the atmosphere seemed hostile in an exaggerated sense. Because Quinn Fabray wasn't a morning person, which is why she chose a profession that mostly wanted her functional at night. She never would have thought in a million years that she'd ever end up in a band- much less a drummer in a two-member band with a guy she met in her current girlfriend's bed one night in college, not that she was ever threatened by Sam, but that's how it was. She groans, willing the sound to stop, and the light to vanish, expecting Rachel to wake up and turn it off anyway, but when she opens her eyes, slowly, grudgingly, turning her back to look at the other side of the bed, Rachel is not there-
There was a light rustling in the next room. She quickly gets out of bed, puts on her robe, and shuts off the alarm. Her feet slip into a pair of worn out bunny slippers, her hand brushes through tangled hair, and she tries to rub the sleep out of her eyes as she heads into the living room.
It's a complete mess. There are papers thrown all over the room, crumpled, flat, and ones shaped into paper airplanes. A dozen cups of what she assumes were used for coffee are on every possible surface, on the table, between the cushions, and one dangling from Rachel's hand. She's curled up between Sam's legs, which's sprawled against Santana's stomach, and then there's the cat sitting on top of them.
She starts laughing, because although it's not the first time this happened, it never gets old. She grabs her phone, takes a few pictures for the scrap book, and walks over, careful not to trip on any shoes, or guitars, and gently nudges Rachel awake, "Hey, baby."
Rachel groans, quickly reacting to her touch, "What?"
"Your stupid alarm woke me up." She says gravely, "Do you need to wake up?"
"What time is it?" She yawns, snuggling closer into Sam's chest. "You smell weird."
Quinn laughs, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Rachel's ear, "I'm right here, sleepy head."
Rachel opens her eyes, looks around, then glances between Sam and Quinn, "I can explain." She says in a panic, her lips tugging a little at the end, before breaking into a smile.
"Yeah, sure." She winks, "Are you going to work?"
"No," She yawns, "It's Monday, no shows today."
"Then come to bed. You need to make up for what your stupid alarm interrupted.." She says distantly, obviously frustrated.
Rachel knows that look well, "Oh, a dream!" She whispers, "About me? What am I saying? Of course it was about me."
"Untangle yourself from this heathen and come tangle yourself with me." She says with a wink, turning around, and walking towards the bedroom.
Rachel is lying on her stomach, her head resting on the pillow she's hugging, watching as Quinn traces something on her back. Quinn's fingers tread softly around a bruise that's starting to fade on Rachel's lower back, then adds in a throaty whisper, "Did I do that?"
Rachel tilts her head, and laughs, "No, it's from when Noah and I went rock climbing the other day."
"Since when did you get so athletic?" Quinn asks playfully, placing a kiss where her fingers were still teasing the discolored skin.
"That feels nice." Rachel sighs, "I don't know- ever since the cast and I went to that skydiving thing, something, I don't know- clicked, I guess."
"Just be careful." Quinn says, reaching her hand to curl over Rachel's waist, hugging her closer to her chest, "If you ever hurt yourself, I'm going to kill you." She adds, kissing her shoulder.
"I make no promises." Rachel says solemnly, her lips tugging slightly as she feels Quinn's fingers dig into her side.
Quinn bites her shoulder, loving the squeal Rachel lets out in response. She rolls over to rest on top of Rachel, gently tapping on her knees so she could spread them apart, and when her legs fall open, she crawls in between them, placing lazy open mouthed kisses, from Rachel's knees, all the way up to her clavicles, across her jaw, before resting on her lips. "I love you, you know?"
"I know." Rachel responds breathily.
"I don't think you do." Quinn says, and it comes out in a playful way, but she means it.
"Then show me." Rachel challenges. And Quinn does, gladly.
The smell of coffee brings Quinn into the conscious side of her brain. She never really liked coffee, but Rachel was an addict, and every time they kissed, she would taste it on her mouth, and eventually she grew to love it just as much as she loved the girl. Quinn stretches her arms, feeling the body wrapped around her, smiling as she watches Rachel's brow furrow in what appears to be a very unusual dream. She never would have pegged Rachel as a cuddler in high school, if anything; she assumed she was a flat on her back type of girl. She'd be lying if she said she didn't love it; the way Rachel curled her entire body to fit hers, almost like she needed her, rather than wanted her. It was nice. She had a theory that her biological clock readjusted itself when she and Rachel got together, because she loved watching her sleep, and not once in two years, did Rachel ever wake up before her.
She lies there for a while, watching the girl sleep, thinking how adorable she looks and how lucky she is that she was here, in bed, with the most amazing girl she's ever met. Her train of thought is briefly interrupted by the sound of Rachel mumbling something incomprehensible. She looks at her with an amused smile, silently wondering what must be going on in that head of hers.
"No, no… sto-stop it." Rachel whimpers. And Quinn goes from amused to concerned in that one instant, "Let go…"
"Baby?" Quinn questions tentatively. She feels Rachel's hands clutch at her waist, and the concern escalates to worry. She shakes Rachel slowly, "Baby, wake up."
"Please…" Rachel whimpers again, "don't."
"Rachel, sweetie, wake up." Quinn says, shaking her strongly this time, "Rach."
Quinn sees her eyes flutter, and waits impatiently as they open up slowly, "Quinn?"
"Hey." She says, softly, only slightly relieved. "What's wrong?"
"What?" Rachel asks, confused, her voice thick with sleep.
Not wanting to scare or startle her, she just smiles and says, "Nothing. Sam made coffee, want some?"
"Yes, please." Rachel answers desperately, laughing a little, as she stretches her arms out wide, her head resting on Qunn's lap, "When are you guys leaving tonight?"
"We should be at the airport by six." Quinn answers, her hands brushing the few strands away from Rachel's face, "You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, I filled my schedule with a lot of things to worry about and stress over in your absence." She winks, "That workshop Kurt and I have been telling you about- Spring Awakening- is getting a run at the Atlantic, and things are starting to get serious. My first original role, can you believe it?" She says excitedly, despite the hoarseness in her voice.
"You're going to be great, Rach." Quinn smiles, leaning down to place a lingering kiss on her forehead.
"I can't believe you aren't going to be here for my last Maria." Rachel pouts.
"Babe, I've seen almost every single version of your Maria." She laughs, kissing her nose, "And I'm sorry, it's a tour, you know how it is."
"Yeah, but still, everyone's going to be there except you." Rachel says, placing a kiss on the hand she was playing with, "It just sucks."
"Believe me, I know- but it's just a couple more weeks and I'm all yours." She tells her, "Sam promised we'd take a longer break before the next album this time."
Rachel reaches her hand to brush the side of Quinn's face, and in a dreamy voice, she says, "Listen to you." She smiles proudly. "You're amazing."
"No, baby, it's you." Quinn holds the hand by her face, placing a kiss on the inside of her palm. "All you." She breathes, leaning down to kiss her lips.
After a brief, disgustingly passionate, loving embrace, the two pull away from each other, Rachel sighing, "Come on, we both need a shower."
Quinn tilts her head to the side, pouting, "I don't want to wash you off just yet. Can't I keep you for the plane ride?
"Q, as romantic as you're trying to make that sound, it's really just icky." Rachel says, rolling onto her belly and placing a kiss on Quinn's lips, "But you can join me, if you'd like."
"I would like." Quinn answers with a grin.
"This is the last time…" Santana grumbles through her cereal, "No more opening act shit. I spoke with the record company this morning, you guys have a big enough following now to open your own fucking show."
"Umm, why are you so mad?" Rachel asks warily, tugging on a strand of her, and brushing it behind her ear. "Isn't this good news?"
"Because those shitheads are shitheads." Santana growls. "They tried to fire me! ME. Nobody fires me. Nobody talks to me without a tremble in their voice and fear in their hearts. Satan himself would not offer to buy my soul."
"Sam and Q would never let that happen." Rachel assures her, "They need Lima Heights on their side." She rubs her shoulder comfortingly.
"Damn right." Santana nods, shaking away her anger, "So Q, how's it feel?" She asks, breaking into a grin as she sees Quinn's shell-shocked face.
"I-I.."
Rachel beams as she notices her girlfriend. She jumps up onto the counter behind Quinn, to give her a better height advantage, and hugs Quinn to her chest, between her legs, and places a kiss on her cheek. "THIS IS INCREDIBLE!"
"God…" She breathes out, "Wow."
"Give her a few seconds." Rachel tells the room, " SAMMY!" She screams in the meanwhile, jumping down and into his arms as she hugs him tightly. "You did it!"
"I can't believe it!" Sam grins, twirling once with Rachel in his arms before she settles back on the ground, "But I will take it.
After a celebratory lunch, everyone goes their separate ways, agreeing to meet in a couple of hours over at Kurt and Blaine's apartment. Kurt was the only one out of the five friends that owned a car; so naturally, he acted as the chauffer for such things as airport drop offs. In addition to the emotional support Rachel would lean on whenever Quinn had to leave. She always took it silently, never displaying how much it actually hurt her for Quinn to leave, but Kurt knew her too well; the two were similar in more than just their musical aspirations, so he created a ritual for whenever Quinn and Sam left for a tour. They'd go down to the Corner Bakery by their Soho apartment, grab a cup of coffee afterwards, walk around searching for flea markets, buying complete nonsense; old playbills, screwdrivers, vintage video games for Puck, used classic books for Quinn, pimped up denim jackets for Santana, and rare action figures for Sam. It always made them happy, and afterwards, they'd check out a few galleries, because Kurt loved admiring the "struggling artists" that always hung out there. Rachel secretly loved it too, though she would always make sure their was a painting in her line of sight to avoid Kurt's accusation's of emotional cheating, which is hypocritical, given that Blaine is still in the equation. But it was always innocent, and it distracted Rachel well enough.
The next day, Kurt and Rachel were at the theater almost as soon as they woke up. Their director had an epiphany in the middle of the night, and he all but dragged them out of bed- as much as you can through the phone, that is- and into the theater. It was a chilly morning. Kurt had slept over, so they just put on a casual jean, t-shirt combination, and headed over there as soon as possible.
Duncan, the songwriter, was pacing the stage when the cast came in. He looked at them with a look of relief, lifted his hands, and motioned for them to sit on the first row of seats. Their director, Michael, was sitting at the edge of the stage, "Nineteenth century Germany." Michael says in a narrative voice, Duncan joining him as soon as he started talking, "Now, imagine that," he smiles, "as a rock musical."
"Okay…" Johnny, the guy playing the second male lead, drawls out. "Isn't that what it is?"
"That's it!" Michael laughs, "That is it."
"The music is contemporary, yes." Duncan agrees with Johnny, " But… what he means is, in an intense, radical split from what's happening in the scene sort of way."
"I'm not sure I follow." Kurt says, voicing the confusion everyone was feeling.
"Instead of singing to your counterparts, you're going to pull out microphones and just wail the songs, as if in a concert." Michael explains.
"When the music is happening, it's like out of time, kind of a fantasy, but as soon as it stops, the scene fades back into 1890's Germany." Duncan elaborates. "It creates an interesting historical juxtaposition."
"Or it could be plain bad." Michael shrugs, "I mean the concept is precarious." It's almost as if he was talking to himself, "It could be perceived as pretentious." He mumbles, before snapping out of it, clapping his hands together, "But that's why we called you kids."
"We want to try it out." Duncan nods, "We'll start off with Rachel and the girls, then with Johnny and the boys… Kurt and Blake, I think Steven wants to rewrite one of your scenes, go check with him in the back."
After they do a run through of the first couple of musical numbers, Michael looks over at Rachel and Gavin, and motions for them to follow him to the side of the stage, "Guys, we're doing some major rewrites, so we're going to skip the I believe scene for now. Let's do a quick run through of the beating scene…"
Rachel groaned inwardly. She hated this scene. Every night, she'd fall asleep looking forward to the next day of rehearsals- up until she thought about this particular scene. It was always nagging at her, and she couldn't figure out why it made her feel the way it did. She was an actress; it wasn't supposed to bother her as much as it did. And what was worse is that she didn't give it her all, and Rachel Berry always gave it her all. She put in the least amount of effort in that scene, but enough to get away with it, just to get it over with.
Everyone seems to be too distracted doing their own thing, so Gavin and Rachel take up the empty side of the stage, and read through the script- they throw the pieces of paper once Michael stands up to give them a few pointers, "Here, hold her arm, turn her around- I want to see the conflict."
Gavin tries to grab Rachel arms as gently as possible while also trying to make it seem aggressive, "Like this?"
"Yes." Michael agrees, looking at them inquisitively, "Rachel, darling, I need to see the pain, the fear, try to feel it for real, okay?"
"I'll try…" Rachel says uncertainly, willing to put a little more into it this time. She's not sure why her heart's beating a mile a minute all of a sudden, but she takes a deep breath, settling into the character, reaching down into her heart, and trying to convey a pain in there somewhere that she's always tried to shield from the world.
"Go on…" Michael says, leaning against the piano, "Action or what have you."
They don't start from the very beginning of the scene, but they've been working all day, so it wasn't that hard for them to get into their characters.
Rachel takes another deep breath, closing her eyes tightly, drawing the character from inside, and once she opens her eyes, she's not Rachel anymore, "I've tried hitting myself- to find out how it feels, really, inside." She says as Wendla, picking up the conductor stick on the floor and handing it to Gavin, "With this switch for example? It's tough and thin."
"It'd draw blood." Gavin says, looking at the stick from his place a few steps away.
Rachel looks down at the conductor's stick, envisioning every ounce of pain she's ever felt in her life into that one stick, "You mean, if you beat me with it…?"
"Beat you?" Gavin says, exaggerating the line by a few scales.
"Me." Rachel looks up at Gavin, with a look of complete longing: he looks like Quinn, but not Quinn, and she looks at him- Me, she thinks.
"Wendla, what are you thinking?" Gavin says, slightly out of character, a look of mild concern washing over him.
"Nothing." Rachel shakes it off, internally, to stop the emotions of reality and fiction from blending together, and externally, for the show, her character. It's almost as if she goes on autopilot for the rest of the scene as she tries to sort herself out, but then, she starts too feel and then out loud, "But I've never been beaten- my entire life. I've never…. felt…."
"What?"
"Anything." She doesn't understand what's happening to her. Why this sudden wave of emotion is suddenly passing over her, or why it hurts, or where it's coming from- but it's there, and she's never felt so suffocated in her life. "Please Melchior." And she turns around, offering him her backside. Gavin hits her lightly, and then she's angry, "I don't feel it." And then she loses herself again, but she's brought back when Gavin grabs her arm, just like Michael showed them a few minutes ago.
"I'll teach you to say please." Gavin says, and she's never really thought Gavin was that good of an actor, but in that one line, she's never heard him sound so… evil. He strikes her, not really of course. "How's that then?" He strikes her again.
"Nothing." Rachel cries, and she doesn't know when she started crying. She cries on command, not for anything else. He hits her again, "And that?" Gavin asks, the strain in his voice sounding almost as if he was really hitting her. "Nothing." She says again.
"You bitch, I'll beat the hell out of you." Gavin snarls his line, and just like Michael showed them, he nudged Rachel, rather than pushed her, and she reacted accordingly- making the violent choreography seem real, however synchronized it may have been. And when Rachel's Wendla is on the ground, a rush of emotion, too real, too vicious, crawls up her throat, and she sobs, not for the scene, but for herself. She curls up in the fetal position, still sobbing-
The scene carries it's course for a couple more minutes, with Rachel crying on the floor, and Gavin's Melchior reacting to the image.
But when Michael and everyone on stage literally give her a standing ovation, she's brought back to reality. She gets up slowly, quickly composing herself, and wiping her tears away before giving them a well-rehearsed Rachel Berry smile. "Good?"
Michael has tears in his eyes when he approaches her, shaking his head, and giving her a hug, "Perfect." He pulls away to look at her once more, and she laughs when she sees the look in his face, "Just… wow. Perfect."
Rachel excuses herself to the restroom after a few of her casemates came up to compliment her performance. Once inside, she takes a few deep breathes, an uncomfortable pain in her chest, "What the hell is wrong with me?" She looks at herself in the mirror, she almost gasps at the red-rimmed eyes and puffy complexion. She starts hyperventilating again, and she has to sit down to regulate her breathing. "Calm down, Rachel." She tells herself.
And just like that, she turns it off. She washes her face, and goes back out to the stage with a renewed sense of control over her emotions.
The rehearsal goes on from morning till night, leaking all the way into the next morning, and by the time Rachel gets home, she's exhausted, and ecstatic- her little episode buried deep back inside- but mostly tired. She sees a few missed calls from Quinn, smiling faintly- she loved that they bombarded each other with phone calls, texts, and emails. It kept them close. Sometimes she thought it kept them closer than it would if Quinn didn't have to leave so often, almost as if the distance had become a friend rather than a mortal enemy. It was good, she thought. She preferred this feeling than anything worse.
Rachel sheds her clothes, settling to sleep in an oversized hoody, too worn out to lift her feet into a pair of pajama pants, and too emotionally drained to think of an alternative. She tucks herself in bed, reaching for the phone, and dialing the familiar number, she says "Hi."
"Babe, where the hell have you been?" Quinn asks irritably, "It's 3am."
"Sorry, Q." Rachel exhales, breathing into a sigh, "Rehearsal was brutal. They did a complete one eighty on the musical approach, so we had to go through the entire script. I'm wiped."
"Aww, baby." Quinn sympathizes, "Want to tell me about it?"
"Well, I have to admit, though biased I may be, but it's spectacular." Rachel smiles, "I mean, it's like they transformed the entire show into one moment of emotional musical intensity."
"In what way?" Quinn asked, more interested in the way Rachel's passion spoke with her body, her hands, her everything, and how she could convey all that through a phone call. It was amazing, and she missed it. She missed her, so she asked questions to hear more answers, and more of her voice.
"Well, as you know, or should know if you've been listening to me, the show is set in 1890's Germany…" Rachel explains, sitting up in bed, "Then, all of a sudden, we yank out these microphones, and it's like a rock concert!"
"I can give you a few pointers there." Quinn laughs, "being a rock star myself, that is."
"Yeah, I'd like that." Rachel laughs.
"So, what else?" Quinn smiles, her eyes lighting up at the sound of her laugh.
"Well, that's basically it in a nutshell." She scrunches her face as she ponders her answer, "I'm too tired to give you a detailed explanation." Rachel says through a yawn.
"This is you tired?" Quinn chuckles.
Rachel rolls her eyes, "I just wanted to hear your voice before I passed out into oblivion."
Quinn laughs, "Call me when you wake up, baby. Get some sleep."
"Kay." Rachel says tiredly, "Love you."
"Love you too, Rach."
As soon as Rachel hangs up, she drifts off to sleep. Her body relaxes into the sheets, her mind empty, lulling her into her subconscious.
She's aware that she's dreaming. She's had the same dream for weeks. But this one felt different. She's still at the point where she knows what this is. There's a stage, her stage, and on that stage, the boy frozen in the scene. She walks there, because she's supposed to walk there. And when she's standing in front of the boy- he looks like Gavin, now. And when he starts to look even more like him, he starts moving again, he has her by the arm, and he strikes the back of her thighs with a stick. This was how the scene went. This was acting. Gavin was acting. She faintly hears herself speak the dialogue, and Gavin doing the same. But all she feels is pain. She feels it. It hurts, and the pain is so pure and raw, she can almost feel the tears leaking out of her body-
"No, no… sto-stop it." The pain is still coming. But Gavin is not there anymore.
"Please…" Another strike. But there's no one there.
"Don't." And then she sees faces. For the first time, she sees them. So many faces, in a montage, lockers, choir rooms, stages, pianos….
Rachel jolts awake; breathing heavily- she looks over at the clock by her bed, and sees that it's only 6am. She brushes a hand through her hair, trying to recall the dream she just had, but it's faint, and she tries to grasp it before it drifts away like dreams always do, but it's gone. Some part of her seems relieved, though she doesn't know why. And the other part, well, it just feels scared- whether from uncertainty or an unconscious awareness of what the dream actually was she's not sure. But she doesn't want to think anymore, about it or anything else for that matter, so she convinced herself that she couldn't go back to sleep, and then she decides to go out for a run.
