Not Meant to Know
Author: slacker_d
Fandom: Dead Like Me/glee
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Quinn, with brief appearances by Puck, Tina, Mike, Santana
Rating: R
Summary: Quinn struggles with keeping her reaper secret.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: 4,700+
Spoilers: 2x15 for Dead Like Me and 1x13 for glee
Warnings: Character death
Quinn has been a reaper for almost three years now and it finally feels like it fits. She seems to at last know all the little reaper rules, legends and tall tales. The guilt she initially felt about "killing" people is gone. She knows they're going to die either way and she's simply there to help them ease into the next stage.
However, the real reason she knows she's truly a reaper is the 180 she's done in terms of her ethics and morals. Things that when alive she would spend hours agonizing over are now done with a flippant attitude. And things that were a sin to even consider are done on a regular basis.
Still everyone once in a while, she'll hear her father's stern voice reciting the commandments or telling her how proper Catholic girls behave. Every day it gets easier and easier to shake it out, though. Quinn wonders how many years it'll take before her parents' morals and more specifically, her father's voice will only be a fleeting memory. The Catholic that's still hiding inside her feels mildly guilty for hoping it's very, very soon.
She's currently on a reap. It's at a bar and so Quinn figures a drunken moron is going to slip and fall. That seems the most probable. Thankfully, it's Tuesday, so it's not too crowded. Wandering, she overhears people and is able to eliminate over half the bar. V. Polowski isn't too common of a name.
And then she hears someone shout, "Victor, get another pitcher, instead."
She turns and only sees a short, balding man in his 40s at the bar. He nods in the direction of the voice. He seems the most likely and so she approaches the bar as well.
"Excuse me," Quinn says, turning to him. "Have we met? You look kinda familiar."
He examines her for a moment. "I don't think so."
"Is your last name, Garrison?"
"No, it's Polowski. Victor Polowski."
"Oh. Sorry. Quinn," she says, offering her hand.
He shakes it and she's able to take his soul with her right, pulling it out slowly from his grip. "Well, sorry to bother you, Victor."
"It's all right. Have a nice evening."
"You too."
The bartender brings her a rum and coke, so she moves to the end of the bar to watch and wait.
A couple minutes later, a cute brunette sits down next to her. "Hey. Mark," she calls to the bartender. "Vodka tonic. Actually, make it a double."
"Bad day?" Quinn inquires.
The brunette glances over at her. "Just frustrating. Work."
"I totally understand."
Mark brings over the double and then turns to Quinn. "Another?"
"Yeah," Quinn replies. "I don't want to fall behind."
This earns a small smile. "Rachel," she says.
"Quinn."
As her drink is being placed in front of her, Quinn sees Victor stumble towards the restroom. He definitely seems tipsy. He bumps into a tall stack of boxes. They wobble and the top one falls, smashing onto his head. He crumbles to the floor instantly.
A woman, exiting the restroom sees it all happen. She calls for help and whips out her cell phone. Quinn assumes to call 911.
Victor seems to have moved on by himself, so Quinn sees no reason to get up; especially since she has such delightful company.
Turns out Rachel owns her own music shop. She teaches singing and piano.
"But we also offer guitar and other instruments as well."
Quinn gives her usual story of doing data entry.
…
Quinn always tell people she does data entry; it's boring enough that if she goes into enough excruciating details, people will change the subject and never bring it up again. In actuality, she and Puck, her roommate, run cons.
Most of his don't work out. The worst one was trying to scam a son out of money by telling him his mother was contacting Quinn from beyond the grave. Which technically she was, but instead of asking for money, she was concerned about who was going to take care of her cats. His best scheme is buying alcohol for high school students. He steals as much as he can and then overcharges.
After experiencing a few of Puck's unsuccessful schemes, Quinn decides to come up with her own; plus that way she doesn't have to share the money with Puck.
The complete lack of restrictions make her like a kid in a candy store. Her favorite is the ATM scheme.
She goes to an ATM and withdraws $20. When the slot opens to give her the cash, she runs some glue between the two flaps, so that when it closes, it won't open again too easily. Next, she goes across the street and watches as customer after customer tries to get money and fails. Usually after a few hours, she'll return to withdraw another twenty, but when the slot doesn't open, she smack the machine, in just the right place, causing the cash build up to just spill out. Depending on the bank traffic, she usually makes enough money to last anywhere from a couple weeks to a couple months.
She's tried other things, but nothing works as well as this.
And no, she never goes to the same ATM and goes through the entire list of banks in the area, before she even returns to a bank she's been to before.
…
They end up talking until last call.
"Wow, I didn't realize the time," Quinn says.
"Thank you for making the end of this day better than the start."
"Same here."
"I hope I won't seem too presumptuous if I were to ask you on a date Friday night," Rachel says.
Quinn smiles. It took a bit to get used to Rachel's way of speaking, but now four hours later, she finds it adorable. "I'd love to," Quinn replies.
"Great. Friday, I have a lesson until seven. Do you mind stopping by the shop around then?"
"Of course not," Quinn tells her. "I'm curious to see it."
Rachel slides a card across the bar. "I'll see you then."
Quinn watches her walk out wondering if Rachel will glance back at her, but the brunette plays it cool. Still Quinn is left feeling glad about the results of her reap, for once.
…
When Puck first offered her a place to crash, she only assumed it was so he could perv on her. This was further proven by the broken lock on the bathroom and his seeming inability to knock. There was also his suggestions that they both sleep in his bed for warmth, even though was July.
Finally she couldn't take his pathetic attempts for sex and told him she was into girls. Of course, then she had to put up with him constantly making hook up suggestions for her. It's only slightly less annoying than being hit on.
So when she tries to sneak in at 2 a.m., she supposes she shouldn't be surprised at Puck's greeting.
"Well, well, well," he says as she steps on the squeaky floorboard. "You're back awfully late for a 10 p.m. reap."
"I figured you'd need time to masturbate and cry since you didn't laid again tonight," Quinn snarks.
"You offering a hand?"
"Good night, Puck."
…
The next morning, Puck and Quinn are the last to slide into the reapers' usual booth at Happy Chef. He's still pestering her about coming home late. And because Santana overhears this, she joins in as well.
"Did you finally get some last night, Q? It's about time. It's been what? Three years. That practically qualifies you for revirginization, doesn't it?"
"You're assuming she wasn't one beforehand," Puck adds. "I mean, we don't know what—"
Mike puts a stop to this by slapping a post it on Puck's mouth.
"Hey, watch it, dude," Puck snaps. "You could've given me a paper cut on my tongue or something.
"Good."
"Yeah," Tina adds. "Maybe you'll talk a bit less than."
"Blissful silence," Santana agrees.
"You guys are just jealous about how awesome I am," Puck growls.
"Yes, that must be it," Mike says as he hands out the rest of the post its.
Santana looks at hers. "This is down town," she says. "You know what traffic's like right now?"
"I guess you better get going then," Mike tells her.
…
Quinn's more nervous about this date than she'd care to admit. It's her first post death, so she supposes it's expected. She just wishes she had someone to talk to about it.
Puck is out of the question. If she could help it, he would never, never find out. Santana would laugh and mock her for twenty minutes and then maybeoffer some not useful advice like she did when Quinn asked about what to do if your reap refuses to cross over. Mike, maybe, though she's not comfortable talking about personal things with him. And though he's willing to listen, Quinn gets the feeling that he'd rather avoid hearing about interfering with their personal and dating lives. Such is the mantle of being in charge. Tina, on the other hand…
She eventually decides against it. She'd kinda like to keep this to herself a little bit longer. Things have a way of coming out, no matter what. Like when she accidently stopped someone from dying or when Puck lost his post it and nearly missed the reap. And she knows everyone will find out eventually, it's just that she wants this to be just hers a little bit longer; also, if she crashes and burns, then they'll have less material to mock her with. There's even a small silver of hope that they might never find out.
…
Friday morning at Happy Chef, she's a nervous bundle of energy. She drinks orange juice instead of her usual two cups of coffee, because she doesn't think she needs the caffeine; she feels wired already.
"What'd you fuck up this time, Q?" Santana asks, noticing how twitchy she is.
"Nothing," Quinn replies.
"Oh yeah, well then how come your leg is bouncing like that?"
Quinn looks down to see her right leg is indeed bouncing at a hyper active speed. "Ah, well, just want to get my reap and get out of here, I guess."
"Uh huh." Santana's eyeing her in a way Quinn knows means, "I know you're up to something and I will figure it out eventually."
Thankfully, Mike shows up and gives Quinn a reap that she's technically already late for. It gives her a great reason to take off like a shot, before anyone can say anything else.
…
At 6:40, Quinn pulls up in her beat up Ford Focus, that she "borrowed" from a reap, in front of Rachel's store. She's a bit too early, but she figures she can wait another ten minutes.
Apparently, she can't. It's 6:45 when she's getting out of the car and walking up to the door.
There's a bell that rings as she enters and almost immediately Quinn knows that this is a place for serious musicians. It practically hums with musical talent.
Rachel appears a moment later, smiling when she sees it's Quinn.
"I'm a bit early," Quinn says.
"That's all right," Rachel replies. "My lesson was cancelled anyway. Laryngitis. I would've called, but you didn't give me your number," Rachel points out.
That's true, she didn't. "Sorry about that. I was kinda distracted by being asked out by a beautiful woman."
This earns her a grin and a blush. Quinn finds this makes Rachel even more charming.
…
They decide to a little café two blocks over.
Quinn spends the first block resisting the urge to grab Rachel's hand as they stroll side by side. It feels so juvenile to be nervous; she's 26 years old, well, 23 years old with three years of afterlife, but that's just splitting hairs.
However, just as they're crossing the street, Rachel reaches out and grabs Quinn's hand, lacing their fingers together. Quinn lightly squeezes back and even in the low light, the blonde sees a smile blossom on the brunette's face. It leaves Quinn feeling giddy.
…
It took dying for Quinn to admit her sexuality. She assumes it's the lack of the perpetual parental iron fist she's so used to.
Maybe that's why she feels like an awkward teenager. She spent her entire high school career doing exactly what she was expected to, dating who she was expected to and being the perfect daughter.
Now with everything out in the open, she doesn't know exactly what to do. She's not used to the freedom, even after all this time.
…
They talk until the staff kicks them out. Walking back towards Rachel's store, the brunette turns to her and says, "I suppose this is good night."
"It doesn't have to be," Quinn points out. "I'm not quite ready for this evening to end yet."
The smile on Rachel's face is practically blinding. "I'm not either."
"Well, maybe I could get a tour?"
"I think that can be arranged."
…
When she arrives home, Quinn tries to be nonchalant as if she didn't just experience a perfect date. After a quick tour of the store, Quinn was treated to a song from Rachel. She had an amazing voice. They ended up dancing in the front of the store as Rachel sang.
They didn't have sex, just barely. The only thing that held them back was Rachel not wanting to do it in the store.
"It's just despite this store being cleaned more than daily," Rachel explained. "I still have concerns about certain contaminates that exist from the multitude of people that stop by. There's also things that may enter from simply the wind and the opening and closing of the door repeatedly; which is what little Tommy Baker was doing today for almost five minutes while I talked to his father about his sister Karen's voice. Nor do I think it would be prudent—"
Quinn stopped her lecture with a kiss and tells her she understood. And she did. Sort of. So they agreed to go out the next night and Quinn very reluctantly kissed Rachel good bye and went home.
Thankfully, Puck doesn't seem to be around. Probably off trying to pull some stupid get rich quick scheme; or maybe out trying to bag a cougar. Puck's always telling Quinn about how older women find him irresistible.
"The only good thing about this reaper gig, is that I'll never seem too old for a cougar," Puck confided once over a bottle of tequila. "I'm pretty much guaranteed to score for eternity."
"Whoopee."
"You're just jealous about how awesome I am," he tells her.
"Or nauseated by how disgusting you are."
With the house to herself, Quinn instead let's herself float upstairs while humming quietly under her breath.
…
The second date goes even better than the first. They don't leave Rachel's apartment. They order in and watch Funny Girlbecause the brunette had been appalled that Quinn had never seen it. The only reason she was forgiven was the blonde explaining her strict upbringing.
"I suppose you can't be faulted for the restrictive movie watching environment you grew up in."
"Thank you for your understanding."
Quinn doesn't leave until Sunday evening, albeit grudgingly. Going home to Puck and her lonely bed doesn't sound all that appealing, but Rachel's right; she has to work the next day and Quinn has to pretend to work, so she bids the brunette good night.
And even if she didn't want to go, Quinn knows she'll be seeing plenty of Rachel Berry after this.
…
They spend the majority of their time at Rachel's because of Puck. The one and only time they were at Quinn's, Puck pestered them the whole time for a threesome.
"Or, can I at least watch?" he asks. "I promised I won't say anything. You won't even know I'm there."
Quinn really wanted to smack him upside the head with a frying pan; mostly because she knows it won'treallyhurt him. But she doesn't think she could easily explain it to Rachel. So instead all he gets is a shoe thrown in his general direction.
But after that, they both agree it's just easier to stay at Rachel's.
…
The relationship was doomed from the beginning. Quinn knows this, but couldn't help herself. In her life, she never went after anything she wanted. So now she figures she should be able to go after everything she wants in her afterlife. If only she didn't love Rachel.
Still it lasts for a year and a half. It's the best and worst year of her life. Because once she realizes she's fallen in love, every lie she tells is an ice cold hand squeezing her heart.
She tells herself that the kindest thing would be to just end it. Dragging it on when she knows they can't have a real future is heartless and cruel to someone she claims to love.
When it finally does happen, the blonde feels like the break up has been building for weeks. Quinn's pretty sure that they've been walking on eggshells around each other and avoiding any sorts of fights or confrontations. They also spend a bit less time together and this helps fend off the end just a bit longer.
The final argument occurs when Quinn has to leave at 5 a.m. for a ridiculously early reap. She can't very well tell Rachel where she's going. She sort of panics and says she has some errands to run.
"At five in the morning?" Rachel is incredulous as she stares at the bright red numbers on her alarm clock.
Quinn can see her waking up and knows if she doesn't get out of there now, there will a horrendous, painful argument andshe'll miss her reap.
"I gotta go," Quinn says. "I'll call you later."
The only problem is that she has to pull that a lot. Because the longer they date, the more time they spend together. Even if it's just watching the Discovery Channel; Quinn has a developed an enjoyment of all the science reality shows like, Mythbusters or Time Wrap.
When it gets to the point where Quinn's practically living there, it's both blissful and stressful. Keeping her reaper duties secret is a huge sticking point. Granted, Rachel doesn't know whatthe secret is, but she knows the blonde is holding back something big.
For the most part, Quinn can work around it. She says she has to be to work really early so she can go get her post it from Mike at Happy Chef. And thankfully, it doesn't seem to be the type of place Rachel would ever go, so there's no worries of running into her there. However, the reaps themselves are a bit more difficult to explain. She brushes off lunches and dinners so she can reap. Or she'll have to show up somewhere later than usual because of one. And what's worse, is Mike will occasionally call with a very early morning reap or an emergency last minute one. Those are almost worse because she has to run off immediately after and she knows how suspicious it looks.
Between that, the U-Haul jokes from Santana and the pleads from Puck to just video tape it once, Quinn's not sure how much longer she can keep it all up. Something's gotta give. She doesn't want it to be the relationship. She loves Rachel. But she also knows the realities of letting out her secret and in no scenario does it end well.
…
When they meet for their usual Wednesday lunch, Quinn knows it's not going to be a comfortable meal. The smile on Rachel's face is practically pasted on and she answers all Quinn's questions with one word answers.
Once they've settled the bill, Quinn makes a move to stand but is stopped by the brunette's hand on hers.
"I'm sorry, Quinn," she says. "I didn't want to do this here, but I'm afraid I can't pretend anymore."
"Do what here?"
"It's over."
Despite knowing it was coming, Quinn is still stunned. "I'm sorry, what?"
"It's over, Quinn."
"What? No. Why?"
Rachel shakes her head, her face grim. "Don't be ridiculous. You and I both know it. You're hiding something, something big. And that's your right, but keeping it from me heeds us from being truly intimate. Whatever your secret is, it will always come between us."
"No, it won't," Quinn protests; for once not denying her secret. "Not if we don't let it."
"We already do," Rachel replies. "And I tried, I really did, Quinn. I thought you were worth it, but lately this relationship makes me very weary, but not happy. And life is too short to live like that."
"Rachel," Quinn pleads. "I love you."
A small smile chases the grimace off her face. "I know. And I love you. But it's not enough." She stands. "I'm sorry." And then without another word, she marches out, leaving Quinn dazed.
…
The others are more supportive than expected. Puck gives her a hug when he finds her crying in the kitchen. Of course he also tries to unhook her bra in the midst of it, but it's such a Puck move that it makes her laugh through her tears. Mike's response is a hand on the shoulder with an offer of support. Santana refrains from her usual snark and sarcasm for a whole week. She even goes as far to tell Quinn she's sorry. Tina offers a place to crash in case she needs a break from Puck.
"He's certainly not the person I'd want around if I just broke up with someone," she tells Quinn. "We can eat ice cream and watch Lifetime."
Quinn's touched. It's still more moral support than she ever got from her parents.
She does end up spending one night at Tina's. Getting away from Puck isn't the main reason, though it is a bonus. It's more about wallowing. She figures it's the first step towards moving on.
"It's like the five stages of death," Tina tells her. "You have to go through all the steps or else you'll never be able to heal."
Tina was a psychologist before she died. Quinn often wonders if that makes things easier or more difficult. It seems to make things easier because of all of them, T seems to be the most easy going. And she's only been doing it for a decade longer than Quinn.
…
Eventually, Quinn has to concede that Tina was correct. The day and a half spent wallowing in depression seems to have done her some good. She still feels horribly guilty about all the lies and deception, but she's able to admit to herself that the break up was for the best. It never would have worked out. Quinn knew this, but couldn't end it. She wishes she could have, though. She is a bit ashamed that Rachel had to be the one to end it.
Epilogue
It's been almost nine months since she's seen Rachel Berry and Quinn still isn't completely over her. So when Mike hands her a post it and she sees R. B. Berry E.T.D. 1:47 p.m. Tyler Road & Wellington Ave, she almost cries. However, she stays quiet. When everyone but Mike has taken off, she pleads with him.
"Please don't make me do this."
"It's not my decision, Q," Mike replies. "You know that."
"I do. But this," Quinn snaps, holding up the yellow piece of paper. "Thisis just too cruel. Isn't there a committee I can appeal to?"
"Before 1:47 today?" Mike asks.
"Mike, please…"
He sighs. "I'm sorry, Q. It's out of my hands. If you need to talk later, I'll be available."
"Whatever," Quinn snaps, standing. She stalks out, climbs into her car and drives off. When she feels that she's far enough away, she pulls over to the side of the road and cries.
…
Around one, Quinn makes her way to Tyler and Wellington. She's even more nervous than she was at her first reap. She wonders if it's just that she loves Rachel or that she's never reaped someone she knows before. Thankfully. If she knew she was going to spend her afterlife reaping in the same city she grew up in, she would have tried to be in another city when she died.
People watching, the blonde is torn. Part of her wants for some closure with the brunette, while the other half wants the reap to be more subtle; an arm graze as she walks by. After too much debate, she decides to go for subtle; it sounds less messy and awkward.
At 1:42, according to her cell, she sees Rachel. Luckily she's on her phone, so Quinn keeps her head down and shadows her. Looking for an opportunity, she misses the crack in the sidewalk and trips. Right into Rachel.
"Excuse me," Quinn says, keeping her voice low in hopes of not being recognized. She's unsuccessful.
"Quinn?"
"Oh. Hi. Rachel."
"I'll have to call you back." Rachel snaps her cell shut and turns fully to face Quinn. "How are you?"
"I'm all right. You?"
"I'm fine as well." Rachel looks at her watch. "I wish I had time to talk, but I'm running somewhat late. I'm meeting Jordon Syre at the coffee shop down the street. I'm hoping to obtain him as a part time instructor at the store. I've had a multitude of requests for violin lessons over the past year and so I've been exploring various options."
"Don't let me stop you," Quinn replies when Rachel finally gives her a chance to speak. "It was nice to see you, Rachel."
She offers her hand, which the brunette takes and Quinn is able to reap her. It tingles like always, but this one also feels like a heavy burden.
"Likewise, Quinn."
The blond watches as Rachel walks away, pulling out her cell phone again and dialing. She's so intensely focused on her conversation that she doesn't see or hear the half ton grand piano as it slips out of the movers straps and crashes to the ground, killing her instantly.
Watching, Quinn wonders if it's an ironic death; what with Rachel being a piano instructor. English was her worst subject in school. Maybe she could ask Tina, she always seems to know these things.
However, even as she ponders this, desperately trying to distract herself; Quinn still feels like a bucket of ice water has been poured over her. The last vestige of faith she had left from her life has left her. Whoever decided that sheshould be the one to watch Rachel die is heartless and she hates them for making her.
…
Rachel pops up a minute later at her side. The brunette looks surprised for a moment and then when she notices her half bent leg sticking out from under the destroyed piano, Quinn watches the realization dawn on her.
Oddly, she doesn't seemed surprised that Quinn is there though. "Hi."
"Hi," Quinn replies shyly.
"I take it this is the secret you were so reluctant to share?"
"Yeah." Quinn nods.
"Oh sweetie," Rachel coos, reaching up to caress her cheek, but instead going right through Quinn. "Of course," Rachel says. "I'm dead. Still, I wish you could have told me."
Quinn sighs. "Me too."
They watch the chaos for a moment.
"I realize," Rachel says. "That this must be agonizing for you, but I hope you know how pleased I am that it was you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Then I'm glad too," Quinn replies. "I always wanted to be who you needed, Rach. I'm sorry I failed so epically at it."
"You didn't," Rachel assures her. "I promise."
"Good."
They lapse into silence again. Rachel is, of course, the one to break it.
"So now what?"
"Now," Quinn replies. "You move on."
"Right. Of course." She ponders this for a moment. "What's it like?"
"We're not meant to know," Quinn recites. "But I'm told it's different for everyone."
"Yes, I suppose that makes sense."
Just then, the bright light appears behind them.
"I presume this is good bye, then," Rachel says.
Quinn just nods.
"I wish I could touch you, just one last time."
"Me too," Quinn replies. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Quinn watches her take a deep breath, straighten her shoulders and walk towards her white light. Once it surrounds her, everything disappears with a swirl of lights and flashes. And then Rachel is gone forever.
Quinn stares after her for just a moment, before walking away.