The Weeks That Pass, a glee fanfic

The Weeks That Pass

Author: Lilylovett

Rating: T

Summary: Quinn is in college, and the weeks that pass never fail to bring her closer to one Rachel Berry.

Notes: Lyrics are from "Something's Got a Hold Over Me" by Etta James. This is my contribution to the December 2012, "Faberry Week" challenge. This will be a fic with each prompt being a chapter. Pretty much all of canon applies up until season four. Not that Glee has continuity, anyways.

I. Fairy Tales

let me tell you now
i got a feeling, i feel so strange
everything about me seems to have changed
step by step, i got a brand new walk

It was ironic, if Quinn Fabray thought about it, that Rachel Berry became the only stable fixture in her life, once graduation rolled around. The summer before the beginning of their real lives, Santana and Brittany went on some road trip that nearly worried their parents to death. Quinn could acquiesce; she was surprised they had not come back to Lima married. Puck recruited Finn and Sam to work with him on his pool-cleaning business. Mercedes moved immediately to L.A. to begin recording. Anyone else that Quinn might have hung out with seemed to either be on family trips, or busy getting ready for college. Only Rachel had been around, just waiting to go to New York.

Quinn was pleased when her animosity with Rachel was seemingly repaired over a lovely summer of movie nights, laughs over coffee at the Lima Bean, and spontaneous picnics in the park. She knew none of it, not even the metro passes, could make up for her treatment of Rachel throughout most of high school. But she did her best. More than once, in a heartfelt moment under the starry skies, Quinn would fill the silence with her sincerest apologies. She had even cried, and was amazed when each time, Rachel would only take her hand and tell her: "I forgive you. Really, Quinn, I've forgiven you since the beginning of our senior year."

Quinn was not used to this kind of generosity in her life. She had grown up with extremely pressed parents, in an environment that appealed to aesthetics more than substance. Her parents had raised her to value perfection and godliness. Some mistakes were not acceptable in the Fabray household. (See: Beth.) Quinn had assumed every family raised their children with such pressures. In Quinn's home, family pictures were perfectly manicured—affairs that took hours, involving color coordination of outfits, a paid professional photographer, and prints with photoshop airbrushing.

So when she entered the Berry home for the second time in her life during that summer, she could only gently graze her fingers over the candid pictures that seemed to be scattered, tastefully so but not over done, throughout. Here was Rachel's first birthday cake smeared over her grinning face, and here were the Berry men holding up their daughter in pride after her first dance recital, and here was a wonderful tiny Rachel in a baseball cap, staring back at her Bubby, both unaware that the moment would be captured forever. They all reminded Quinn of how rich Rachel's family was in love, and that fact made her grateful for their friendship. She hoped that someday she could feel the same way among her own spouse and children.

Yale is beautiful.

Quinn immediately loves the atmosphere and its ancient spires. Beyond all else, Yale is a place Quinn can imagine growing into the woman she has always wanted to be, not just the person her parents expected her to become. And though Russell Fabray is no longer necessarily part of the equation, Quinn can not help but the internalized pressure and influence he had a part in creating.

The first week is difficult. Her roommate is more of a quiet gal, introverted and conservative. While Quinn herself is in no rush to party or, god forbid, get pregnant again, she can't help be at least a little disappointed. She does not revert to her HBIC role or go skank again; Quinn starts her college career by being honest. And though honesty makes Quinn feels vulnerable, she feels pride blossom in her chest when she can report back to Rachel that she's made friends "without antagonizing anyone," a question that Rachel had posed only half mocking.

At first, their updates are restricted to email. While she had become more than familiar with Rachel Berry up close and personal, the emails provided just enough of that shining star personality to satisfy Quinn. Both girls were busy, and after a while, it was evident that NYADA was equally as competitive as Yale in many respects. Their exchange did not taper off from any less than at least one reply a week, but Quinn felt herself missing the tiny diva.

There was a lot email did not convey. Rachel's sarcasm and very dry humor could be reflected in text, but then, Quinn missed those sudden shifts from wit to pure goofiness. Rachel could write paragraphs about her favorite broadway shows and lamentations about not being able to afford seeing them, but not sing out a few spontaneous bars. Admittedly, Quinn had logged into her long neglected MySpace page to rewatch some of Rachel's meticulously labeled, and extensive musical library. Okay, so maybe she had gone through the entire archive. Quinn was in awe when she realized that Rachel had really changed since their sophomore year.

Thinking about Rachel becomes a bit of a past time for Quinn. It gives her an inkling of some feeling, some sort of elation that made Quinn unsure. This uncertainty is uncomfortable. Quinn can avoid it for the most part, so long as she stops herself from thinking these newer, stranger thoughts. There are the expected ones of remorse: "Why had I been so obsessed with Rachel before Finn joined Glee club? Why couldn't I have just tried to be her friend?" And: "How could I have ever though Rachel was not attractive? She's gorgeous, inside and out." But then there are the odder ones: "I wonder if her lips are soft? Is she thinking of me at this moment?"

Quinn let her inner conflict fester. There are classes to attend, club meetings to actively participate in, and friends to socialize with. Yale quickly becomes her home. After a while, memories of Ohio only seemed to involve a certain brunette that is currently, not in Ohio at all...

The first opportunity comes innocently enough. Rachel sends her weekly email, and at first, Quinn is disappointed that its shorter than usual, but then she notices an attachment. There is no subject line. Quinn is skimming through her emails in a coffee shop, animatedly distracting herself until she finds the will to finish her reading and notes for a Shakespearean play.

The prospect of finding out what's in the email is definite motivation for Quinn to finish. Her playlist is a mix of relaxing alternative and folk, and she finds herself quietly mouthing the words idly, penning notes neatly. She works in this way, alternating between completing an act of the play, writing intently, and smiling when she remembers the songs that either Rachel showed her, or she sent to Rachel. Quinn is act the final act when she is disturbed.

"Hey, beautiful, can I buy you a drink?" A slim, African American boy slides into the chair across from her, smirking. Quinn removes her headphones, quirking her eyebrow.

"Already have one. Nice try, though," Quinn points to her coffee cup, and then laughs when she realizes that he's actually somewhat intimidated by her expression.

"Oh, well then," He perks up when he sees her laugh, extending a hand, "I'm John. John Tyler."

"Quinn. Quinn Fabray," She gently mocks.

"So, Quinn, I've never really seen you around before. You a freshman?"

"Guilty as charged," Here Quinn is not ashamed. She knows she probably appears young and fresh, but she's not really afraid of it anymore. If Quinn Fabray can survive the hell of McKinley High School, she doubts Yale University will be much of a challenge.

"Awesome, I'm a junior. Biomedical engineer major, and certified nerd," He jokes.
"Theatre studies, and hopefully a prospective student to the School of Drama," Quinn recites, and feels herself comfortable with John. He is attractive in a simple plaid flannel, slate gray jeans, and moccasins. He is totally at ease, and she appreciates his confidence.

"We should hangout sometime. Usually I'm stuck in the Malone Center, but here," John slides over his phone, the create-a-contact page already open. "Put in your number and maybe I'll crawl out."

"Presumptuous, are we? Well, you're lucky. I like gregarious men," Quinn winks, quickly typing in her number. "I should finish up here and head back to my dorm. Deadlines are ever impending."

"Of course. I feel like the luckiest guy around to have had the pleasure to meet you," He is grinning at this, purposely coming across as laying it on thick. "Until next time, milady."

John saunters out of the shop, and after that Quinn is able to swiftly wrap up her notes. Her interaction with him was a welcomed distraction from her work, but the delay in seeing Rachel's message encouraged Quinn to hurry all the more. The discipline instilled by not only the Fabray reverence for a pristine, successful image, but ingrained from Sue Sylvester's gruesome instruction was ever present in Quinn's work ethic. Work first, then play.

Her roommate is, thankfully, still slaving away at the library. Quinn can finally feel some semblance of privacy, a true rarity in dorm life. She settles down onto her bed, laptop propped up, lights dim. By mechanical habit, Quinn opens her web browser and logs in.

Dear Quinn,

How has the start of your week been?

My roommate has managed to have multiple sexual encounters in the past 24 hours alone. I am concerned that I may, excuse my being crude, catch an STI sharing a living space with her. I apologize for the complaints of this, but I am simply astounded how she even finds the time!

NYADA, the city, and the thousands of people that live here, have my full attention at every waking hour. I fall more in love each day, and I sometimes wonder how I could have ever strayed from my passion for New York...To think that I almost married Finn and was willing to wait an entire year in Lima for him! We have broken up amicably enough, and don't mistake me, I still cry to "Somewhere" by Barbra thinking of it. But most of the time I can't help but wonder if I miss the idea of Finn, rather than Finn himself.

Regardless, I've been put to the test with this dance teacher. She is tough. But she is also the best of the best, and I believe NYADA is my destiny, meaning even impossible instructors will not impede by inevitable rise to fame. I reread that sentence and I am really only trying to remind myself that Rachel Barbra Berry can handle anything—it's been, admittedly, a difficult month here.

I really ought to be studying at the moment, and while there is more to discuss, I would like to leave you with a bed-time story of sorts. Unfortunately, it is not musical, but one of my assignments I actually to write a song, and I was considering using this plot as part of it.

We all know Walt Disney's version of The Little Mermaid, but this is the creepy, yet more romantic, star-crossed-loveresque Hans Christian Andersen version. Please let me know what you think, and I can't wait to hear back from you.

-Rachel Barbra Berry

Quinn reads the email and downloads the attachment. It is a much darker tale.

In this original version, mermaids live for three centuries, but do not have souls. The mermaid falls for the prince, and pays the price of great pain with each step she takes. She also gives her voice, although it is the most beautiful singing voice among the land and sea, to the Witch. But the prince only holds affection for her like a child, and is set to marry a princess. The mermaid's sisters sell their hair, for the chance that she might be able to have a fish tail again, so long as she kills the prince, letting him bleed onto her feet. On the dawn of the prince's wedding, the mermaid can not go through with this action. The sisters of the air come to her, however, and tell her that she may join them. Not naturally born with immortality, but with three hundred years of good service, they might procure a soul for themselves...

It nearly breaks Quinn's heart to read. She can not imagine that kind of sacrifice, and is upset when she thinks of the parallel between the mermaid and Rachel. Maybe she's reading too much into it.

And despite the weirdness of the whole story, she can not help but find amusement in the way that Rachel manages to find the dramatic, dark, ballet-potential in every story. The tiny brunette is much, much more complex than anyone in the Glee club gave her credit for. Finn let this side of Rachel confuse him, but Quinn relishes in it. Rachel's multifaceted personality makes her an interesting friend, and a beautiful person.

Quinn breaks their tradition of email. She sends a text to Rachel.

Read your email. I see why Disney was hesitant to include all of it in their cartoon film...Skype chat about it tonight? You can sing your song, which I know you've most likely already written and composed. –Q

"Hi."

"Hello, Quinn," And it's funny, but she could almost swear that Rachel looks shy.

"So about the story...are you being morbid or what?" Quinn does her classic eyebrow quirk, eliciting an uninhibited chortle from the other girl. Even through a web camera, it's a sound Quinn is always happy to hear, and even happier to be the cause of it.

"Cutting right to the point," Rachel grins. "I like that."

"It is a little disconcerting how much similarity there is between you and the mermaid. Except, luckily, you didn't need the decision of either murdering Finn or turning to seafoam to become a free spirit."

"Quinn Fabray!" Rachel mocks exasperation so well, it took nearly the entire summer before Quinn could recognize it. "I should like to think that I would never trade my voice for even a high school sweetheart."

"Yes, you're at NYADA," Quinn softens. "How has that been?"

"Wonderful and horrible all at once." And the diva takes a full breath before going into a long rant about her teacher, the broadway infamous, Cassandra July, and the current heart throb crush, Brody Weston.

It is a thousand times greater than a brief phone call or a long-winded email. Quinn scolds herself for not thinking of Skype sooner. Animated Rachel Berry is possibly one of the most adorable and lovely sighs in the world, and Quinn can not imagine how she could have ever found this quality a reason to hate her. Unexpectedly, their call lasts for three hours, and when Quinn leaves her commons she realizes she will have to stumble in the dark to not wake her roommate.

Their weekly emails swiftly become weekly Skype calls. Rachel Berry becomes a seamless part of Quinn's college life, and she has never felt more contented, despite the rapid changes her life has undergone.