Dedicated to Beth, Shay, Sarah, Gemma, Alex and Janet.
A guide to names:
Brittany Pierce: Lobster A, Brenton, Britania, Marcus, Martha, Anne, Adelaide.
Quinn Fabray: Quinton, Jupiter, Tidus, Rose, Nathanial, Adriane.
Santana Lopez: Lobster B, Mela, Antonio, Tomas, Clara, Christopher, Marianne.
Reincarnation. It happens all the time. A soul dies and is reborn into another being, another body. But our soul recognizes other souls, it always does. The same soul who was their mother in one life will be their brother in another. The same soul who was their father in one life will be their son in the next. Souls surround themselves with familiar faces: the same friends, enemies, family.
And always the same lover.
That's what the word soul mates means. Soul mates are souls that, no matter how far away they drift from each other in one life, they will be together in the next.
Two Lobsters and a Fisherman's Daughter
Quinn lowered her eyes to the bottom of the net and frowned. "Papa, there are two lobsters here."
"We eat the lobsters, darling," her Papa said and shrugged, hauling up another net of fish onto their gradually filling boat. "Come on, grab them and put them in the ice."
"But Papa they'll die!"
"They're just lobsters, Quinn, there are thousands just like them!"
She looked away from him and reached her hand slowly down to grab one of them, and as she lifted it from its tail, she knew it felt heavier than it should have…
"Papa, look, they're holding onto each other!"
Her brother, standing next to Papa, looked over his shoulder and grinned under his 'fishing hat'. "Lobsters mate for life, Quinnie, didn't you know? They won't let each other go. They live together, they die together!"
Quinn looked back at the lobsters in wonder, smiling softly.
"Don't worry, I won't let my Papa get to you. You have plenty more life ahead of you."
And with that she tossed them over the edge, back into the water to live their happy lobster lives.
Two Models and an Arist
Santana held her thumb out of her fisted hand and closed her right eye, the paint brush in her mouth hanging by the tip as her tongue lolled over the wood.
"OK…Madam Pierce, I need you to move a little bit to your left – no wait, my left – yes, good. And Madam Fabray, please just angle your head a little more to your right. Perfect! OK, now, I hope you two can keep this position long enough for me to paint you…"
"Oh, please!" the Pierce girl snorted and moved her head, but quickly moved it back into its previous position. "We've kept our cool for various painters before you, Miss…?"
"Lopez. Santana Lopez. And I know. But a little humor never hurt anyone."
"Where are you from, Miss Lopez?" the Fabray asked, smiling at her through the corner of her eye. "You been in town for a while, I presume. Your English is impeccable."
"Why, thank you, Madam," she answered, blushing slightly as she dipped her brush into blue. "I was a servant for the St James family a while back. But their eldest son, Jesse, he let me take art lessons with him. I was trained by the best, and here I am today!"
"You're a wonderful painter. I've seen your other works," the Pierce girl said again.
"Thank you, Madam Pierce. I aim to please."
"Best painter on this side of the Mississippi River, I do declare," Fabray agreed, winking at Santana with the one eye that was facing her.
Santana gave her a cheeky grin and dipped her brush into green.
"OK, hold still, the ruffles on your dresses can't move for the next hour, right, Madams?"
Two Servants and a Master
"Santana! Quinn!" she called out as she exited the dining room, her ruffled dress leaving a wake of anger behind her, specifically directed at her husband. The two girls appeared out of nowhere, standing diligently, waiting for her request.
Or order.
"Please set the bath tub. I'm in need of a soak, and the heat is too stifling. Make it cold."
"Yes, Madam," the two girls bowed, rushing off to the bathroom, Quinn leading the way as Santana stopped to stare for a few seconds at her mistress as she held her head up proudly and walked on to her bedroom, stomping her feet as she went.
"What do you think happened, Quinn?"
Quinn raised an eyebrow at Santana and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her along with her. "It's not our place to know, Santana. We are servants, and that's that."
"Servants? More like favours…"
"Stop speaking about our mistress that way!"
Santana rolled her eyes, twisting the cold water tap in the bath, plugging it up and sitting on the edge, waiting for it to fill. "It's true, though! Whenever Master Arthur can't…satisfy…her, she comes to one of us. It's insane!"
"We're a white and a black girl-"
"Hispanic!"
"-working as servants on the Louisiana Purchase, Santana," Quinn went on, ignoring her outburst of correction. "Everything is insane here."
"Girls?"
The voice broke them out of their conversation, and Quinn quickly dropped two small, scented soap balls into the filling tub, opening the door for her mistress. She smiled at her wanly and let her step into the room, watching as Santana reached out to her and started to unbutton the dress from behind, her fingers fumbling over every new notch.
"I'm sorry about the outburst, girls. Master Arthur and I have found yet another disagreement."
"It's perfectly alright, Mistress," Santana gushed, blushing slightly as she realized how desperate she sounded.
"Of course," Quinn continued, stopping the water tap and moving to help her mistress out of the dress. "We're here to please you, after all."
She smiled at them both as she stepped out of the confines of her outfit, and winked at them as she kicked off her underwear, stepping into the tub.
"That's very good to know."
Two Lovers and a Priest
"Brenton, relax, you look fine."
The blonde boy looked up at the priest and nodded. "I know, Father Quinton. But…I'm just so…"
He stopped, staring at his shiny new feet, biting his bottom lip. "I'm just really happy right now."
Quinton smiled at him, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder (Brenton was so much taller than him). "Just relax, remember to breathe, and remember that she loves you just as much as you love her."
The wedding march started up, and his back stiffened as he turned around, mouth wildly stretched into a grin, eyes glinting happily with unshed tears. Quinton watched the beautiful Santana Lopez walk down the aisle, kiss her father on the cheek and walk to Brenton, accepting his embrace as he stretched his arms out.
Quinton raised his eyes to the ensemble before him and raised his arms out, reaching to the very darkest confines of the church.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join Brenton Pierce and Santana Lopez in holy matrimony…"
Two Romans and a Servant
"Where is your servant girl, Britania? She always travels with us in the canopy, you love her too much."
The tall blonde shrugged and winked at her companion as they lay in the canopy, being dragged around the ancient city of Rome.
"Relax, Jupiter. She is already at the Temple, readying the incense for prayers."
Jupiter rolled her eyes and squeezed Britania's hand in hers, her ring accidentally digging into her friend's fair skin. "She has been very close to you, lately, my friend. Is there something you do not wish to tell me…?"
The blush creeping across Britania's face was enough for her, she was just plainly giving herself away.
"Mela and I…we-"
"Mistress? We have arrived?" The canopy was slowly set down and the two of them pushed aside the curtains, tumbling out of the little box. They were greeted by the dark Ottoman girl Britania's father had so successfully bought into slavery, her brown eyes wide and glazed over with adoration as Britania walked towards her, holding her hand out to her. She bowed to it, kissing the tips of her mistress's fingers, and nodded acknowledgement at Quinn, all the while never taking her eyes off her mistress.
"Take us to the temple, Mela."
"Yes, Mistress."
She gestured forward, walking slowly on, making sure they were following. As Jupiter walked on, she couldn't help notice the way Britania's eyes were slowly glazing over with an emotion she was too familiar with. It was the same emotion she saw in Mela's eyes, the one that showed too much devotion to just a simple servant girl…
"What is happening between you and Mela? Have you strayed from the path of purity?"
Britania shook her head, not even able to look her best friend in the eye.
"Mela and I are very close friends, Jupiter. That is all you need to know." Her voice was hard, defiant, matter-of-fact. Jupiter had no choice in the matter. She could not press further.
But when she was left alone at the altar of Venus to pray, and briefly looked up to see her best friend and her servant walk away towards a secluded corner, she knew that there was much more that could be told…
Three Gladiators
Marcus hated his rotten luck.
He hated how he had grown too 'old' for his master, how the only hope for him was in the arena now. And he absolutely hated how he knew he was going to die.
But at least he wasn't alone.
"Oi! You! Fair one!" he called and walked over to the shorter blonde, swinging him around to face him.
"We look out for one another, yes?"
"Of course. I am Tidus."
"Why are you here, Tidus?"
"I am a follower of Jesus Christ."
"Good luck against the lions, then, friend."
"Why are you here?" Tidus asked, grabbing his spear and setting it firmly into the ground, leaning against it.
"My master got tired of me."
"Better than Antonio over there, then," and Tidus pointed out o a black haired man who was sharpening a sword, teeth gritting in concentration. "He is spoils of war. Nobody wanted him, so here they sent him. He's survived so far though, but he got injured pretty badly in the last fight and now…"
Marcus found his eyes wondering down to Antonio's thigh, where a large unhealthy gash was showing itself off. Red and blue, it looked like it would probably be the death of him.
"Oi!" he called out again, and Antonio's head turned around slightly, frowning at him. Seeing his attention caught, Marcus ambled forward and patted him on the back, smiling down at him.
"Good luck out there."
"Thanks…" he mumbled back, brushing his hand off and getting up, wincing as his weight fell on his bad leg.
"I am going to die out there…"
Tidus snorted and shrugged, throwing his arms up into the air slightly.
"We'll die together. The three of us."
Two Nurses and a Soldier
"Help us, quickly!"
Quinn shot up from her canvas chair and ran, following Nurse Pierce as she gestured wildly to her. "He is brutally injured, we need to get working on him quickly!"
And then they dragged him in.
He was young, too young. Only nineteen. His eyes were rolled back into his head, his mouth hung open, his body rocking in spasms.
"Who is he?"
"Tomas is his name. He is a French Spaniard. He took a few bullets to the knee and chest. We have to help him now!"
Quinn looked at Nurse Pierce, her superior, and watched as her face slowly transformed from her 'nurse in charge' look to something that looked like the way Quinn had looked at that soldier, Raymond Berry, when he had been dragged in with bullet wounds all over his legs.
It was something akin to love at first sight.
"Right, bring him here, I'll remove his bullets. Nurse Fabray? I need you with a bowl and some warm water. And antiseptic. Now."
Quinn nodded and ran off, returning in ten seconds flat with the supplies. Nurse Pierce was already working on the boy, removing the bullets one by one, plopping them into the bowl Quinn handed her. she was counting slowly under her breath, and when she removed the last one, she sighed.
"Nineteen bullets, huh, Tomas? That's exactly how old you are…"
"Do you know him, Nurse Pierce?"
She looked up at Quinn, as if she had only just noticed her, and frowned.
"No. But…isn't it the strangest thing? I feel like I should."
Three Cheerios, Three Gleeks
"Quinn?"
"Yes, Santana?"
"Doesn't it feel weird sometimes, this whole Unholy Trinity thing?"
Quinn looked up from her school book and raised an eyebrow, shrugging. "I don't follow…"
"Don't you guys ever feel like…like we've known each other before?"
"You mean like Day yah Voo?"
"Déjà vu, Britt," Santana patiently corrected, smiling at her. "And no, not like that. Like…this whole thing was meant to happen?"
Quinn grabbed the book Santana reading, which turned out to be an incredibly heavy tome, and laughed at the title.
"You need to stop reading this bullshit Reincarnation stuff."
Santana snatched the book back and huffed silently on her bed, moving slightly away from Quinn. "Look, just because you're Catholic doesn't mean I'm not free to believe in what I want to!"
Brittany, however, merely pecked Santana lightly, smiling as the darker girl calmed down considerably at the touch of her lips on her own.
"I don't know. I think Santana's right, Q. I do feel comfortable around you guys. Like…really comfortable. Like all this really was meant to happen."
Santana grinned triumphantly as she reached a hand up to her girlfriend's face, gently cupping her cheek. "Soulmates…"
"Yep."
Quinn gave a small gagging noise, but a soft happy sigh when they kissed again.
Maybe Santana was right after all.
Three British noble women
"Darling Rose, you must stop reading those fictions!"
Rose looked up at her best friends and gave a small laugh, clutching the novel firmly to her chest. "And what is so wrong with being familiar with the works of Dickens?"
Martha shrugged and nodded at the vendor looking at Rose expectantly as she handed him the money for the manuscript. "They are for the men."
"Martha, if you continue with this attitude, women will never move forward!" Clara sniped, crossing her arms over her chest, sending her hat askew as she huffed indignantly.
"I'm terribly sorry, Carla," Martha jokingly apologized to the dark haired woman, smiling at her. "But you must admit that these novels do none of us any good."
"It wouldn't hurt to read them, though," Rose countered, putting the book into her small – too small – bag and walking on through the streets of London. It was a busy day, and everybody was caught into their own little business, rushing through as they hurried to finish their errands.
"All they will do," Martha's turn to huff as she stuck her head into the air, giving a stubborn sniff, "is fill your head with fantasies of love that will never happen. Like that silly Wuthering Heights book. No love is that powerful!"
Rose was about to counter – again – when she saw the look on Carla's face.
"I beg to differ, Martha," Rose softly stated, putting a hand on the taller girl's shoulder and squeezing lightly. "There is always hope for love that is…too powerful for us to understand."
"And it might just be right around the corner," Carla mumbled lightly, unheard by Martha. But noticed by Rose.
"Yes. Definitely."
Three Friends, Two Lovers
"I can't believe – oof! – we have to do this – ah crap! – in the middle of the night!"
"Be quiet, Quinn."
"Brittany, I cannot believe you dragged me into this."
"We need a look out and you're the only one who knows!"
"How much farther?"
"The house is right there." Brittany grinned slyly and pulled out a small whistle, blowing into it. Santana appeared at her window almost immediately, grinned, and opened it, scaling down the ivy crawling up her wall. She almost stumbled over her feet as she ran to Brittany, jumping into her arms and locking her lips immediately with the other girl's, grinning the whole while.
"Right, I'll…I'll just stand here…" Quinn groaned, walking to the other side of the bush and leaning against it, rummaging for her book in her knapsack. The bush started to giggle behind her, and she rolled her eyes.
"Keep it under age in there!" she whispered to it, and she swore she felt a hand reach out and slap her in the darkness.
"Oh, be quiet, Quinn!" Santana's voice hissed back, and Quinn gave a small laugh as she heard the girl gasp soon after.
She loved her friends. She did, really.
But honestly, they could have picked another look out…
Three Shakespearean Actors
"Master Shakespeare wants you in the tire house, Christopher."
Christopher groaned, hanging his head backwards and almost chewing on his gristle of meat.
"Don't moan about it. You are his best Romeo."
"And you his best Juliet, Nathanial."
The blonde boy blushed, crossing his arms and stomping off in the direction of the groundlings pit, muttering loudly about the injustice of his age. Christopher rose off the barrel he had been sitting on, spat the small piece of meat out onto the floor, and ambled slowly towards the tire house, swinging his arms carelessly around as he went. He may be an actor in The Theatre, the best of his kind in fact, but that didn't mean he was going to be in any way graceful. He was a bumbling idiot in many a sense, but he was still the best there was and Shakespeare knew that.
"Excuse me?"
He turned to the feathery light voice, expecting a little apprentice boy, but was greeted by a beautiful woman, her eyes blue and wide, her figure lithe and long.
"Your pardons, sir, but I come looking for Master Shakespeare? His landlady requires to talk to him."
"Ah yes, well…come with me. He is in the tire house."
"Many thanks, sir."
"My name is Christopher."
She smiled at him, holding her hand out. "Mine Anne."
"Well then, Anne, you should know that the theatre is no place for a lady."
She laughed and sprang forward, a few paces before him, and turned her head backwards to look at him as she walked.
"I am no ordinary lady."
Three Defiant French Women
If you had asked these three women what they were doing, they would have easily responded that they were liberating their husbands from the Castile. Adelaide, Adriane and Marianne were very strong for their gender, and incredibly determined. They knew that their husbands had been put into prison on false judgment, and now that the Revolution had come along, they were ready to be a part of it.
The year was 1789, and the women were storming the prison.
"Adriane, over here! Come! Quickly!"
Adriane rushed over and handed her fair-haired companion another cannon ball and watched as she expertly lobbed it into the metal monster. Marianne quickly lit the fuse and covered her ears, turning away from the machine as it blew out the ball.
"We hit the wall!"
"Yes!"
Marianne fisted the air, her cheeks covered in soot as she yelled out "Another one! We can do this! Liberate your brothers!"
The women around her cheered in support, most of them running off for weapons and battering rams, others for more ammunition.
"Marianne, you should calm down…" Adelaide, laughed as she watched her order around, waving her arms in the air and pointing her makeshift wooden weapon at the walls.
"My husband was unjustly placed inside those walls! I will do everything in my power to liberate him!"
Adelaide sighed and looked at Adriane, smiling weakly.
Adriane smiled back. "Don't worry, she'll come around…"
And Marianne continued to shout out orders, giving another happy yell as the wall finally crumbled down.
A Photographer and Two Models
Quinn held up the camera to her eyes and smiled behind it, holding the shutter down. "Right, OK…focus and…perfect! Work it ladies!"
Santana (was that her name? She couldn't remember…) flipped her hair back and grinned at Brittany, winking slyly as she watched the other model hook her thumbs into her belt loops, sticking her tongue out at the other girl.
"Good pose, guys, keep it!"
"How long you been taking pictures, Quinn?" Brittany asked, taking another pose against the fence, bringing one leg up and using her hand to reel her fingers into the chicken wire behind her head.
"About two years. And you guys are awesome for answering that ad in the paper."
"We need the money, so we came," Santana shrugged, changing her position on the box she was sitting on and crossing her legs. "You're pretty good. We've seen your stuff."
"Thanks. First time modeling?"
"Yeah."
"You guys are gorgeous!"
"I tell her that every day…" Brittany hissed in Santana's direction, winking at her. Santana blushed and got off the box, moving to the other girl and wrapping her arms around her from behind, placing one arm around her stomach, the other over her shoulders.
"Oh, hush you…"
Quinn paused as she saw the darker girl's lips graze the blonde's ear lobe and frowned, but snapped the picture anyway.
