Based on the book and movie of the same name. I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave a review if you did.
"Ugh, this is what we could be doing on a holiday. Not all the 'hiking up mountains' stuff you're planning," Allison giggled, dragging her fingernails up and down Quinn's back. Plush white blankets enveloped their tangled bare legs, while Quinn pressed her lips to the column of her girlfriend's neck.
Quinn lifted her head to look down at Allie and cocked an eyebrow. She smirked and dragged her left hand down to lightly prod at exposed ribs with her fingertips.
Allie gasped and squirmed underneath Quinn's body. "It tickles, it tickles!" She giggled, reaching down to pry lithe fingers from her skin.
Quinn couldn't help but smile at Allie's infectious laugh. She reached up to massage the brunette's breast, and her eyes twinkled when a small moan fell from Allie's lips.
"You want me to stop?" Quinn inquired as she felt her nipple harden beneath her fingertips.
Allie looked into the blonde's eyes and smiled contentedly. She felt her heart melt at the sight of her playful girlfriend and her unkempt hair. "No," she said softly, shaking her head. "But it's 6:15."
Quinn raised her eyebrows. "6:15?" She lightly tugged on a nipple and watched Allie's eyelids flutter.
"Mmhmm," the brunette moaned, her eyes now closed so that she could focus on the hand playing with her left breast.
Quinn watched Allie's chest heave and bit her lip. Allie's eyes lazily blinked open and a small smile graced Quinn's lips. "Oh, I've got to go." The blonde's husky voice dripped with lust.
Quinn pressed one last kiss to Allie's lips before sitting up and dragging herself out of bed. She grinned at the dopey post-orgasm look on Allie's face as she made her way to the bathroom. She walked over to the shower and turned the knob, watching as the light spray poured from the showerhead. She reached out to make sure the temperature was comfortable and walked over to the bathroom door.
Before she closed it, Quinn gripped the handle and looked at her girlfriend beautifully splayed out on pearly sheets, looking positively delicious. "I'll cook tonight," Quinn winked, before closing the door.
Quinn adjusted the hem of her navy blue dress one last time in the mirror. She looked herself up and down and nodded to herself when she decided her outfit was satisfactory. The blonde stepped out of the bathroom and stalked over to the bed on her three-inch black Kate Spade heels. She pressed a kiss to the lightly snoring brunette's forehead before grabbing her phone and exiting her apartment.
Quinn opened up her phone in the elevator on the way down and checked her notifications. She sighed when she saw she had three emails from her boss, and a text demanding to know why she wasn't at work fifteen minutes after she was expected to arrive.
The blonde looked up when the elevator dinged and opened up her umbrella on the way out of her apartment building. The heavy rain splattered against the pavement in front of her, splashing her heels. The blonde groaned and dialed Fred Lancaster's number in her phone. She jogged across the street as best she could in her shoes, trying to get out of the bad weather as soon as possible.
"Quinn," came a stern voice on the other side of the phone. "You're late. Where are you?"
Quinn tilted the umbrella towards the rainfall when the wind changed directions and tried to shout over the downpour. "Fred, I know I'm sorry. I got a late start this morning."
"We don't have time for late starts right now, Quinn. The biggest account of your career so far is hanging on you being on time and working hard." Quinn could practically see the vein sticking out of Fred's forehead as he chastised her.
She felt a man forcefully bump against her shoulder as she passed him on the crowded sidewalk and resisted the urge to say something to him while she was on the phone. Quinn shook her head and gripped her umbrella tighter, closing her eyes to calm herself down. "Yeah, listen, I'm on it," she assured her boss. "The West Coast will still be up, I'll call Carmichael and when I get into the building we'll close this before 9am."
"You better be right about this, Fabray."
Quinn made her way to the edge of the street and called for a taxi at the busy road. A small yellow vehicle pulled over on the other side of the street, and Quinn began to jog over to the stopped car. Before she could reply to Fred, before she could make her way to the taxi, and before she was safely across the street, Quinn heard a loud honk on her right side.
She looked over just in time to see a motorcycle heading towards her at full speed. The world froze as a small headlight light up Quinn's face in the overcast weather. The blonde didn't even have time to blink.
"Bye now!"
"Take care, John!" Rachel Berry called out as the shop bell chimed and an older gentleman in a tan trench coat made his way out the door.
Rachel dusted off her bright pink apron to match the bright pink walls of the bakery before turning to her next customer. Two middle-aged women peered over the glass case of various sweet confections and Rachel smiled at them in her bright yellow stockings and dark blue polka dot sweater.
"Um, how many calories in this one?" One of the women asked her.
Rachel slid a plate of cookies onto the lowest-level display rack in the glass case. "170 calories," she replied, giving her best customer service smile. "You did have that one yesterday."
"What about that one then?" The second lady asked, pointing to a golden cinnamon roll on the top rack.
Rachel leaned in slightly. "220," she said, giving them a knowing squint. "But it is less if you eat them standing up." She winked.
"Oh!" "Yeah," the women said simultaneously, smiling at each other before smiling at Rachel.
"Should we put them in a bag?" Rachel asked, suppressing a chuckle.
"Please," the woman on the left responded.
Rachel bagged the goodies and handed them to Frank, the owner of the bakery, allowing him to check the two women out at the register. She grabbed the pot of coffee and walked to various customers' tables in the shop, offering to fill up their mugs before clocking out. When everyone seemed satisfied, Rachel made her way to the back and untied her apron, hanging it in her little cubby next to the boxes of ingredients and piles of paperwork.
The brunette grabbed her purple peacoat and turned to walk out of the room, when she ran into Frank. He gave her a sad smile and handed her a sealed envelope. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Rachel took a look at the envelope and a small frown took over her face, causing her eyebrows to turn downwards. She looked back to Frank, who only lowered his eyes at her gaze. She opened her mouth to say something, but in a rare moment for Rachel Berry, she was speechless.
She opted for a silent, yet dramatic, turn and exit from the shop. Rachel hugged her coat tighter to her as she walked against the wind back to her home half a mile away. How was she supposed to tell her dads? This job was so important to her family. How were they going to support themselves now? She shivered at the upcoming uncomfortable family dinner this was going to cause.
The walk was too quick for the petite brunette, filled with worries and concerns for her family. Her father had already lost his job a month ago, meaning that their ability to pay for the house and food relied solely on the money that Leroy and Rachel brought in.
When Rachel pulled open the front door and hopped inside to get away from the cold, her wind-whipped cheeks were already numb. "Dad, daddy, I'm home!" She called out.
"In here!" She heard Hiram call from the kitchen.
Rachel hung up her coat and walked into a room filled with the smell of marinara sauce and the sound of Bon Jovi blaring through a set of speakers on the counter. She felt her heart sink as her dads looked so carefree, cooking dinner and dancing to the rock ballad.
"I have something to tell you guys…" She said softly, wringing her hands.
"Sorry?" "What was that?" Her dads yelled over the music.
"I have something to tell you guys!" Rachel tried yelling, to no avail. Her dads had barely turned their heads, too focused on what was happening in front of them.
Rachel groaned and stomped her foot. She absolutely hated being ignored. "I WAS LET GO!" She shouted over the loud guitar solo.
Both men's heads shot straight up and looked at Rachel, shock coating their faces. Leroy turned and pushed the pause button on his phone, laying a blanket of silence over the room.
"What did you say?" Hiram asked, looking straight into Rachel's eyes.
Rachel's voice grew small again as she looked at the floor and squirmed. "I lost my job. Frank let me go."
It took nearly half an hour to get Hiram to stop having a panic attack. Rachel knew her dramatics came from her daddy, but she still felt awful for the trouble she was causing her parents. In the end, Hiram settled for pacing back and forth in the kitchen, while Rachel and Leroy sat at the empty table, trying not to glance in his direction.
"A month's money? That's big of him, given that she's worked like a Trojan for him for the past six years," Hiram scoffed, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.
Leroy crossed his fingers in front of himself and sighed. "He's closing down, love. He had no choice."
Rachel could only stare at the checkerboard pattern of the tablecloth as her dads argued.
"And what the hell is she going to do now?" Hiram yelled. "It's not like you can get any more hours at the bank."
"Rachel will get another job. She has a lot of potential." Rachel tried not to glare at her dads for talking like she wasn't there.
Hiram stopped his pacing and rested his back against the counter, crossing his arms. "There are no jobs, Leroy. I should know." Rachel buried her head in her hands, trying to stop the oncoming headache. Hiram noticed, and softened his tone. "Look, I'm just saying, we… we needed that money."
Leroy stood up and walked over to Rachel. He rubbed her back as he spoke. "Let's not panic, okay?" He smiled down at Rachel. "She'll find something. Won't you, sweetheart?"
Rachel looked up at her dads and gave them a sad smile.
"Well, what do you want to do? Retail? Catering?" Finn asked, as Rachel scanned the wanted ads for a new job. He was sitting so that his back was leaned up against the armrest of the couch, with Rachel between his legs on her laptop.
"I told you, Finn, I don't know what I want to do. I've been toasting teacakes since I was 14 years old. I'll go for anything at this point," Rachel said with exasperation.
Finn ran his hands through Rachel's long hair. "You don't want to do the chicken factory, though," he frowned. "And you refused to work at that hair place."
Rachel sighed. "I would give myself nightmares handling poor dead chickens, Finn. And I'm not cut out to be a beautician. Hot wax is not my friend." She could feel herself growing desperate, though, and it was only a matter of time before she settled for something she hated.
"What was that thing you said about selfish beggars or whatever?" Finn asked, opting to massage Rachel's shoulders as she grew more tightly wound.
"It's 'beggars can't be choosers, Finn."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should be more open. Give something a chance, maybe you'll like it." Finn picked up one of the many pages of ads that Rachel printed off, on top of just plainly searching the Internet. Rachel had color-coded the details of each ad before looking at them, and a certain blue salary caught Finn's eye. "What about this one? It pays really well. It's not far from your house! 'Care and companionship for a disabled man'."
"What kind of care?" Rachel asked, closing her laptop and taking the paper from Finn's hand. "'Needs someone to drive, feed, and assist.' It's a six-month, fixed term contract."
Finn's eyebrows scrunched together as he struggled to understand the details. "It's the fifth time they've tried to recruit, Rach. They're desperate," he piped up. "And there's nothing about needing skills, so it's perfect!"
Rachel awkwardly turned her head to face Finn and gave him an incredulous look. Finn's eyes immediately looked anywhere else and he tried to save himself. "I-I mean, because you won't need any experience or anything, n-not that you're not skilled…"
Rachel rolled her eyes at her boyfriend before turning back to the paper. "I guess I could at least apply…"
Rachel wrung her hands and tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she rang the doorbell to the biggest mansion she had ever seen in person. It looked to be three stories, and Rachel could only stare at the tall Greek columns holding up the roof's overhang. Once she had been buzzed in past the gate at the entrance of the driveway, she was pretty sure her jaw never left the floor.
The tall mahogany door opened to reveal a slender blonde woman with a white blouse, black pencil skirt, and hair pinned up neatly in a tight bun. "You must be Rachel Berry," the woman spoke, eyeing Rachel pensively.
Rachel nodded. "I- Yes."
"I'm Judy Fabray. Do come in." It came out more like a command than an offer, and Rachel could only nod.
The brunette's nerves were radiating off of her as she followed Judy Fabray through what seemed to be a common area, up a marble staircase, and through the first door on the right. She could only gape at glass chandeliers and paintings that must have been worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.
The intimidating blonde woman took a seat on a modern white chaise and gestured at the sofa across from her in the minimalist room. "Please, sit down."
"Oh, okay," Rachel responded as she sat down and smoothed out her tight gray skirt.
Mrs. Fabray cut right to the chase. "Do you have any experience in caregiving?"
Rachel slid her purse off her shoulder and set it down right next to her on the sofa. "Um, I've never done it," she supplied. "But I'm sure I could learn." Her voice was eager, as she gave her mega-watt smile.
Mrs. Fabray had a face like steel, void of emotion. "Do you have any experience with quadriplegia?"
Rachel's smile faltered only slightly. "Well, no."
Judy Fabray sat up straighter and looked right into Rachel's eyes as she spoke. Rachel could only sit, wide-eyed, under the blonde woman's overpowering gaze. "We are talking about complete loss of the legs, and very limited use of the arms. Would that bother you?"
Not as much as it would bother him, obviously, Rachel thought to herself.
Judy Fabray's eyes widened considerably as she looked at the young girl in front of her and Rachel felt her skin turn cold immediately. She said that out loud.
"Sorry! No, I didn't… No, um…" Rachel's fingers erratically tapped against her knees, and her legs squirmed at the utter idiocy that fell from her mouth as she tried to save herself.
A ripping sound made its way to Rachel's ears and her eyes widened even further. She felt herself stop breathing as her skirt loosened. She chanced a glance at the side of her right leg and her jaw immediately dropped when she saw a tear right at the seam of her skirt about halfway up. She looked to the ceiling and did everything she could to keep herself from passing out.
"Are you alright?" Mrs. Fabray asked, watching Rachel fall apart in front of her.
"Um, I'm… I'm just a little hot…" Rachel said, both hands pressed to the side of her thigh. "Do you mind if I take off my jacket?" Her pleading eyes met cold hazel ones.
Mrs. Fabray didn't respond. The older woman only watched as Rachel fumbled with her red cardigan and slid it off her shoulders. She wrapped it around her waist and tied the arms, attempting to hide the tear. She was left in only a white button down blouse.
Judy Fabray chose to ignore the fidgeting brunette in front of her and continued the interview. "Your former employer says you 'are a warm, chatty, and life-enhancing presence with a lot of potential.'"
Rachel spoke up a little too enthusiastically. "Yes, I paid him." She let out a forceful laugh, trying to ease the tension with a joke.
Mrs. Fabray continued to stare, her face still unreadable. "So, what exactly do you want to do with your life?"
"Sorry?"
"Do you have aspirations, or dreams, or a goal you want to achieve?"
"Well-"
"Miss Berry, why should I employ you, instead of, say, the previous candidate?"
"Um-"
"Really? You can't think of a single reason why I should employ you?"
Rachel tried to keep up with the whirlwind of words being thrown in her direction, but it was hard with how absolutely nervous she was. She really needed this job. "Well, no. I mean, yes, Mrs. Fabray, I'm… I'm a fast-learner," Rachel, said, grasping at her composure under the woman's intimidating glare. "And I'm never sick. I'm always punctual, I am a hard worker, and I only live a mile away. I'm stronger than I look, a-and I make amazing cookies, you know, there really isn't much that can't be solved by a good batch of cookies. Not that I'm saying your husband's quadriplegia can be solved by-"
"My husband?" Judy Fabray's voice broke through Rachel's rambling. The brunette froze and looked at the newly tense woman in front of her. "It's my daughter."
"Your daughter?" Rachel's voice came out nearly breathless.
"Quinn was injured in a road accident two years ago. She lost all mobility in her legs and her left arm."
"Oh, I'm sorry," pure sympathy could be seen in Rachel's eyes. "I didn't know…"
"So…" Mrs. Fabray spoke up, continuing to stare directly into Rachel's eyes, making her feel like the intimidating woman could see straight into her soul. "Would you like the job?"
Rachel's lips parted slightly, and she knew she looked like a deer in headlights. Without hesitation, she spoke. "Yes."
"Can you start immediately?"
"Yes." Rachel said it with more conviction this time.
"Good," Mrs. Fabray acknowledged, standing up and smoothing out her skirt. "Then let's go and meet Quinn."
"Right. Yes," Rachel nodded enthusiastically, following suit and standing up.
Judy led Rachel back out of the room and into the hallway. "The hours are 8:00 to 5:00, Monday through Saturday," she explained, walking back down the marble steps. "If, for whatever reason you're running late or you need to leave early, please call and let me know."
Rachel nodded fervently to everything the taller woman said, nervously fidgeting with her torn skirt, trying to cover the rip with the sleeve of the sweater tied around her waist.
"I must stress that Quinn should not be left alone for longer than fifteen minutes," Judy told Rachel, not looking back once as she took Rachel through a long corridor.
Once they reached the end of the hall, she opened the door and turned to Rachel. "And, um, you might want to wear something less revealing."
Rachel's face turned bright red and she looked down at her poorly concealed, ruined skirt. "Yes, of course."
Mrs. Fabray nodded, her voice suddenly low as they walked into the next room. "This is the annex. It used to be the riding stables, before we had it adapted for Quinn."
Rachel looked around at a beautifully wooded room with tall ceilings and a kitchen with marble counters and polished floors. Circular lamps hung from the ceiling above the kitchen island. Across the room were a few white couches, but not much occupied the floor space. Glass walls covered most of the room, except for a solid white wall with sliding metal doors adjacent to the kitchen.
"I'll give you a set of car keys, and put you on the insurance. Santana will show you how to use the ramp," Judy continued to explain. "Tea and coffee are in the cupboards, you are welcome to help yourself. And there is always food in the fridge."
Judy paused in the middle of the room before looking towards the metal doors. You and Quinn can work out your level of interaction amongst yourselves. Obviously, I would hope that you could get along. It would be nice if she could think of you as a friend, rather than a paid professional."
Rachel gave her a confused look. Why wouldn't they get along? She shook it off and smiled. It wouldn't be a problem. She was Rachel Berry after all.
"Do you have any questions?" Judy folded her hands in front of herself, facing Rachel.
"No," Rachel breathed out, planning to commit everything to memory.
"Then let's introduce you to Quinn. She should be dressed by now."
Judy Fabray paused one more time with her hand on the metal handle and looked Rachel in the eye again. "She has good days and bad days."
Rachel stood up a little straighter and held eye contact with the woman in front of her. "I won't let you down, Mrs. Fabray."
"Good."
Judy knocked on the tall door, and Rachel could hear the faint sound of music playing on the other side. "I have someone to meet you," she called out to whoever was in the room.
"Yeah, she's decent, Judy," a raspy voice yelled from behind the door.
Mrs. Fabray slid the large door open and stepped inside the room. Rachel turned on her famous million-dollar smile as she scanned the room. Judy turned off the loud metal music playing on the stereo and the room was engulfed in silence.
Cold hazel eyes met innocent brown ones and Rachel froze. Her smile never faltered, but she was captivated by the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on. She must have been in her 20's and Rachel shifted her weight under the other woman's gaze. She was sitting in a tall leather wheelchair, wearing a black long sleeve shirt and black yoga pants. Blonde curls rested over a porcelain collarbone, and Rachel found herself tracing the curve of the woman's cheekbone with her eyes.
The awkward silence made a nurse with raven hair dressed in dark purple scrubs clear her throat and roll her eyes. Rachel was broken out of her reverie and she locked her fingers in front of her.
"Hi, I'm Rachel!" She announced in the doorway.
Quinn's demeanor didn't change in the slightest. Her steely gaze remained on Rachel as she spoke. "Hello, Rachel Berry. I'm Quinn Fabray." Her body stayed completely still, save for the fingers of her right hand tapping languidly against the arm rest of the chair.
Rachel dropped her smile and bit the inside of her cheek. She had to fight against wanting to know how Quinn knew her last name. Has she seen her resume?
"You appear to have a problem with your skirt," Quinn said, nonchalantly. Rachel could tell she perfected the uncomfortably icy demeanor from her mother. The nurse next to Quinn only snickered at the comment.
Rachel's face was flushed, as she tried to cover the tear in her skirt with her hands.
"That's cold, Quinn," the nurse laughed.
Judy rolled her eyes. "Miss Berry, this is Quinn's nurse, Santana. She'll stop by several times throughout the day to check up on Quinn, help move her muscles, et cetera."
"It's a pleasure to meet you!" Rachel grinned, holding out her hand.
"I'm sure it is," Santana looked Rachel up and down, ignoring the hand held out to her. Quinn smirked at the interaction.
Rachel awkwardly cleared her throat and dropped her hand to her side.
"Right, well, I'll leave you to it," Judy spoke up, moving to leave the room. "Miss Berry, Santana will talk you through Quinn's routines and equipment."
Quinn rolled her eyes and looked to her left. "You don't have to talk across me mother. My brain isn't paralyzed." Her gaze shifted to Rachel and an eyebrow rose as she said the word: "Yet."
Rachel could only stare with her mouth slightly ajar. She made eye contact with Judy, who could only quirk her lip up in sympathy before walking out of the room. Rachel's eyes pleaded with her, but she didn't turn back.
Rachel looked back to Quinn. The blonde continued to stare right into Rachel's eyes, daring her to make a move or comment, or anything really. The brunette did everything in her power not to cower under her gaze. She watched Quinn's jaw tighten, as she looked her up and down, searching for something that Rachel couldn't identify.
"Well, I'm Rachel Berry," Rachel said, placing her hands on her hips.
Quinn's eyebrow rose again at the statement and her eyes narrowed. "Yes, we've established this."
Rachel looked to Santana for help, but the nurse only matched Quinn's cold gaze.
"Um, shall I make us all some coffee?" Rachel asked, trying to find a way to excuse herself.
Santana laughed out loud and put her hand on Quinn's shoulder. Rachel watched the blonde smile at this, but it wasn't warm and inviting like a smile should be. Rachel felt her stomach drop at the sight of the cruel eyes above the wry smile. Quinn thought that the petite brunette's days were numbered, and Rachel knew it.
"Okay, this pretty much tells you everything you need to know," Santana told Rachel, shoving a large blue binder into Rachel's chest. Rachel let out a small cough at the force. "I do most of the heavy lifting, but there's a timetable in there, so you can see what she has to take and when."
Rachel froze. "I have to handle medicine?" She asked, incredulously.
Santana rolled her eyes and made her way to the cupboard. She flashed Rachel an annoyed look before throwing the door open. "Blood pressure meds, to raise it in the morning when she gets up," she told Rachel, pointing to a blue bottle. She shifted her finger to an orange bottle next to it. "Anti-spasm tablets. She needs to take them four times a day to control muscular spasms." She pointed out another orange bottle on the other side of the blue one. "Pills for nerve pain."
Santana snatched the last bottle from the shelf and handed it to Rachel. "If she asks, you can give her pain killers. Just don't give her sleeping pills," she looked at Rachel's meek demeanor. "If you can, Smurf."
Rachel rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip. "Why not sleeping pills?"
Santana took the bottle from Rachel's hand before placing it back in the cupboard and closing it. "They tend to make her a bitch." Santana paused and rocked her head back and forth. "Well, more of a bitch than she is now."
Rachel looked away at this and tried to ignore her insecurity. "It's a lot to remember," she said, tapping the blue binder in her hands.
Santana rolled her eyes once more and jabbed a finger at the binder. "It's all written down, Berry. Just follow the instructions in the binder. Are you always this dense?"
Rachel scoffed. "I- No! I mean, I'm not dense. It's my first day on the job. I've never been a caregiver before," Rachel defended herself.
Santana gave Rachel a once-over before sighing and walking past Rachel. "She knows what's what, even if she denies it." She grabbed her purse from the kitchen island. "And you've got my number. Most of my other patients are nearby, so I'm never far away. And Quinn is my best friend, so I'll be here immediately if something goes wrong."
Rachel fiddled with her fingers. She felt her skin grow hot as she struggled with what she wanted to ask Santana. "What if she needs to, uh…" She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper.
Santana gave Rachel a confused look, before nodding when she realized what Rachel meant. She slung her purse over her shoulder. "Don't worry, Smurf. You're not here for any of the physical stuff."
"Would you please stop calling me that, Santana," Rachel said, stomping her foot lightly.
Santana narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms at the movement. This was too much for her pay grade.
Rachel sighed and leaned against the counter. "What am I here for?" She inquired.
Santana shrugged. "To cheer her up, I guess."
Rachel couldn't stop the confusion from being etched into her features, but nodded anyway.
Santana checked the time on her phone, before spinning on her heels. "I'll see you in a bit, Berry." She gave one last glance before tossing over her shoulder, "Don't let her get the best of you."
And with that, the nurse opened a tall glass door and walked outside.
Rachel found herself engulfed in silence, and let out a breath for what felt like the first time since she entered the house. She gently set the binder on the kitchen counter before taking in the room once more. She tried not to be intimidated by steel beams holding up the roof of what once used to be the stables. She couldn't help but be enchanted by the incredible interior design of the room, though, her eyes scanning the panoramic view of the trees and rolling green hills outside.
She looked to the white wall with the metal doors ajar and bit her lip. What was she to do now? She couldn't help but stare at Quinn's golden hair capturing the sunlight and glowing with it. Her back was to Rachel, but somehow Rachel could see the cold and calculating expression plastered across her face.
Rachel crumpled her hands into fists to steel herself before walking over and knocking on the open door.
"Hello." Rachel nervously shifted her weight.
She watched Quinn stretch her neck from once side and to the other. "Hello," came the reply.
"So I thought we could go out this afternoon," Rachel suggested, leaning her hip against the doorway.
Quinn didn't look at her. "Where do you have in mind?"
Rachel smiled and walked closer to the blonde, placing one hand on her hip and the other against her chest. "Well, I was told you have a car that is adapted for wheelchair use."
"And you thought a drive would be good for me." It was spoken as a statement, and Rachel felt herself shrink a little bit. She watched Quinn's lithe fingers tap the armrest again and swallowed. "A breath of fresh air." The words were wry out of Quinn's mouth.
"What do you usually do?" Rachel asked quietly.
Quinn chuckled mirthlessly. "I don't do anything, Berry. I sit. I just about exist."
From two feet back and to the right, Rachel could see Quinn's jaw tighten, and she watched the column of her neck twitch as she swallowed.
"Okay…" Rachel felt uneasy. "Well, I could get you your computer."
"Have you found a good quad support group I could join?" Quinn pressed a button, and the wheelchair turned to face Rachel. "Quads 'R' Us?" Quinn's tone was condescending and Rachel grabbed her left arm as Quinn glared at her. "The Tin Wheels Club?"
Rachel's chest tightened but she persisted, letting go of her arm and taking a step closer to Quinn. "Or perhaps we could get to know each other a bit," she said, a tinge of desperation coating her tone. "Because then you can tell me what it is that you do like to do."
Quinn's eyebrow arched at Rachel's plea. Her fingers stopped tapping against the chair and her lips pursed at the girl in front of her. "Here's what I know about you, Rachel Berry. My mother says you're chatty," Quinn began, her jaw twitching at the word "chatty".
Rachel rocked her head back and forth at the statement before nodding. It wasn't untrue. She still clung to the smile on her own lips, though, refusing to let it go.
"Can we strike a deal? Under which you are very un-chatty around me?" Quinn's words were almost slow as she enunciated, making sure Rachel heard every syllable.
Rachel's smile slowly dampened, until her lips were now closed and her right hand was gripping her left shoulder. She looked into Quinn's eyes for any sense of gentleness or humanity, and found none.
"Okay." Rachel looked down to the floor. "W-well, I'll just be in the kitchen… if you need anything."
Quinn nodded. "Lovely."
Rachel slowly stepped away as Quinn turned her wheelchair to face away from Rachel and toward the window. The brunette gripped the metal handle of the sliding door once she was outside of the room and pulled it shut.
She walked a few steps away and pressed her back to the long white wall. Her hands folded against her stomach and she took a deep breath. Fear and nervousness tugged at her insides, and she stared off into the distance outside. She really needed this job.
And she was going to lose it as quickly as she got it.