Prompt: Finn is thirty minutes late. The train/plane is leaving in thirty minutes. You look at your watch, fifteen minutes. You sigh, he's not coming. Someone taps your shoulder and you turn around puzzled. Quinn.

Pairing: Quinn/Rachel

Author's Note: The above prompt comes from the awesome chrismukkah, as I am the humble creative hands and chrismukkah is the brain. Intended as an experimental chapter to start with, and if it goes well & you guys desire it, it'll then become a multi-chapter piece. Lyrics utilized belong to Rae Spoon, from their song "If You Lose Your Horses."

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If you lose your horses because they ran off when lightning struck

I'll come home from wherever I am until the last one is rounded up…

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Finn was not, by all means, known for his punctuality. It should not have surprised her that he was late. Rachel Berry was never late, yet it seemed her 'leading man' was forever destined to be her complete and total opposite. Infuriatingly so. After three phone calls and a text, he had still not responded. Perhaps she should've been worried, but it was fifteen minutes before their train was supposed to take them from Boston to New York. Rachel had finally landed the chance to audition for a Broadway production; her managers had been working hard, and after Rachel finally convinced Finn to move them from Boston to New York (so she could actually pursue her dreams) they were on their way. Or, they were supposed to be on their way.

Ten minutes. Rachel checked her watch again, hoping it was a miscalculation, but lo and behold, Finn was now 45 minutes late. The short brunette massaged the bridge of her nose in frustration. Back in high school, she'd been much less reserved in situations like this, but the last couple of years living with Finn full time had taught her a thing or two about staying calm under stress. The thing was, Finn meant well. He just didn't really understand the nuances of treating a woman well. Often, Rachel's fathers would inquire into the health of their relationship; they also would barely mask the hope that they'd broken up.

Finally, Rachel felt a tap on her shoulder and whirled around, "Finn! I can't believe you took this long to get here! We have to board the train in — " her fists uncurled from her sides, her jaw dropped. Finn wasn't the one who had tapped her on the shoulder.

"Rachel," her name was said so reverently that Rachel thought for a moment she'd imagined it. "I — " Standing merely a foot away from Rachel was Quinn Fabray. Her blonde hair had grown back. The beret she wore let loose a lock of that thick, blonde hair. Hazel eyes lingered on Rachel's, and for a moment Rachel forgot everything. Even in high school, that gaze could still Rachel, root her to the ground and empty her mind of everything. "I found you."

"Quinn … you … I … "

A half-smirk made Rachel's words stop all-together, shook her to the core, "Not as articulate as I remember." Quinn was teasing her. She was being playful.

"What are you doing here?" An unexpected surge of emotion caused Rachel's eyes to cloud with tears. Quinn had never known how much she'd meant to Rachel, and if she had, she'd neglected the knowledge of it. "Of all places, and how did you know I'd be here?"

Concern knotted Quinn's eyebrows. Rachel could feel everything, every nuance of Quinn's feelings seemed to find their way to Rachel as if they had come from her. "Are you okay?"

"Just … just surprised I guess. Why are you in Boston?"

"I needed to find you," the sincere answer made Rachel feel even more confused.

"Find me … but — " Over the intercom, Rachel's train was being called. As she turned around, instinctually ready to chase after the train, she felt a hand at her elbow.

Quinn didn't speak, she just held to Rachel's arm and searched with those intense hazel eyes.

"Quinn?"

"I have so much to say to you, Rachel."

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Rachel woke up startled. It was the same dream she'd had for the last week. Beside her, Finn was snoring loudly and had managed to take over most of the covers. Feeling uncomfortable and melancholy, she climbed out of bed. They were to leave that day, and she'd been having this darn reoccurring dream about that day. If she still believed in that sixth sense nonsense, she might think her dream was an attempt to reveal something important.

However, she hadn't heard from Quinn Fabray since they all graduated. Everyone had largely gone their separate ways, and though she and Quinn had begun to strike a friendship, inevitably Quinn couldn't handle Rachel's decision to go with Finn to Boston instead of New York. She'd told Rachel she was making a mistake, and she couldn't watch someone she cared about give up all her dreams for a mediocre guy like Finn. So, Rachel had told her that she didn't have to watch. And she didn't. They never spoke again after that.

She'd never really understood the Cheerio completely. While she'd always been able to pick up on all that Quinn was feeling, there was always an undercurrent of motivations that Rachel knew she'd never be able to grasp unless Quinn let her in on the translation.

When Rachel finally climbed back into bed, Finn had managed to steal the last of the covers and the brunette's mind was too clouded to be concerned.

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Just like her dream. Finn was late. There wasn't anything she could do about it; she felt anxious enough that she kept looking over her shoulder. She half-expected to see Quinn there, waiting in Boston. That was impossible.

As she checked her watch, agonized over the boarding time, she felt a tap on her shoulder and went rigid. She turned on her heel and wondered perhaps if she was about to be face-to-face with her past.

Finn.

Her muscles went slack and she felt an unnerving sense of disappointment. "Sorry," Finn breathed heavily, panted in her direction. "I'm here."

"It's okay," Rachel murmured, looked darkly at the air between them before she motioned to the taller man. "Let's get ready to board."

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"I'm going to head out and get us a taxi," Finn grasped Rachel's hand before parting from her. "You get our bags at the carousel."

Rachel nodded quietly. It hadn't quite hit her yet that she was in New York, her home away from home; the place she'd always dreamed of was right beneath her feet now. She was far too distracted by something she couldn't quite grasp or explain. Her troubled gaze moved through the busy crowd. In the distance, she could hear the thrum of New York City — horns honking, ambulances, the barely detectable murmur of people — and it made her smile ever so slightly. She padded to the carousel and spotted her bag almost immediately; it was a small insubstantial bag, but Finn's bag was markedly heavier. She tried to pick it up with both hands, grunted a little at the effort.

The bag nearly spilled on her toes and she jumped back; she felt hands at her shoulders and gasped.

"Rachel?" An incredulous, silken female voice greeted her ears as she instinctively jumped forward, hitting her ankle on Finn's heavy carry-on. Rachel couldn't believe the voice she was hearing. "Is that you?"

This was too uncanny. It was impossible. It defied all laws of … everything. Rachel's mind went blank. Again, she felt hands steadying her as she gripped her ankle. Soft hands at her arms. "It can't be." That electricity was undeniable. She would know those hands anywhere. Carefully, masking the twinge of pain from hitting her ankle, Rachel turned around as the hands dropped from her arms.

Eight inches from her stood Quinn Fabray. Rachel forgot how to breathe. She was so completely startled that she could only take in the sight of the girl before her. Widened brown eyes met surprised hazel eyes, and the short brunette wasn't sure she knew how to react or what to say.

"Hey."

Quinn's voice was like some kind of elixir; it filled Rachel's blood with radiating warmth. Her muscles all but melted in response to just that one syllable. "H-hey…" Rachel breathed the word and felt her heart hammering against her chest. She could feel herself trembling from the inside out.

Apparently also at a loss for words, Quinn opened her arms in a familiar gesture, "Come here."

Speechless, Rachel nodded, felt the warmth of tears in her eyes, and all but threw herself forward into Quinn's arms. She was trembling from head to toe and she was sure Quinn could feel it. She smelled that familiar perfume that Quinn's skin gave off. Rachel's fingers trailed over the intimate curves of the blonde's back, gripped her shoulders from behind. She buried her face near Quinn's collarbone.

"You're shaking like a leaf," Quinn observed sweetly against Rachel's ear.

"Why are you here?" Rachel breathed, eyes filling with tears. She was coming face-to-face with her past. She was in the arms of the person that had consumed her for her entire high school experience, both for the good and bad.

Quinn's fingers slid around Rachel a little tighter, lifting Rachel just slightly from the ground. Rachel never wanted to let go. It had been so very wrong to lose touch with this beautiful girl. Suddenly it was just them. She was gravity itself, pulling Rachel to her. "I just got back from visiting my family. I live in New York City."

"You do?" Rachel was surprised, moved back just slightly. She still couldn't believe she was looking at Quinn. The disbelief must have been obvious in her eyes, because the blonde was smiling amusedly at her.

Quinn nodded. "I heard you were living in Boston…"

Rachel didn't want to talk about that. Didn't want to break this moment, the reality of feeling Quinn's hands on her hips. Her heart was aching and it confused her. The brunette grasped Quinn's arms and slowly buried herself back in Quinn's arms. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to spoil it. She breathed Quinn in, heard the fast-beating of Quinn's heart beneath her ear. "I kept having this dream I'd run into you and I just … "

"Well, you do have that sixth sense you were always bragging about," Quinn joked, her lips dangerously close to Rachel's ear. "Just 'cause we grew up doesn't mean you lost it."

Rachel's fingers trembled as they grasped at Quinn's shirt. "I'm so sorry I disappeared."

"I'm sorry I didn't support you." And just like that, their old arguments resolved.

They didn't say anymore, just clutched to each other like survivors to flotsam. They'd gone far too long without this connection, and as Rachel held on to Quinn, she heard in her head the voice of Will Schuester talking about that red string of fate. It bound them tightly together and Rachel had always known this.

"Friends?" It was poignant that Quinn was the one posing this question now, years after they'd last been spoken by Rachel.

"Always," Rachel breathed tearfully. She could feel Quinn trembling as the blonde pressed her lips to Rachel's temple.

It wasn't until Finn came bumbling through the crowd that they split apart. Finn didn't notice the way Rachel held to Quinn's hand to the very last second, clutched to the blonde's feminine fingers with both of her own hands, brown eyes unable to tear themselves away from Quinn.