Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or The Time Traveler's Wife or any other materials I have used for this fic. Don't sue, okay? Also, I own all mistakes from here on. I'm sleepy. Sorry for any grammar mistakes. Enjoy!
"It's dark now and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing." — Audrey Niffenegger
Saturday, February 2, 2030
Quinn:
"When?" She asks me, her brown eyes threatening to spill.
"By the beach. Our beach. You're old, but it was—is—will be magical." I answer her, at the same time desperately asking something that wasn't fair to ask. I dare not voice it out, but I know that she understands.
"When?" She asks again, this time her tear streaked cheeks dampening the crook of my neck. "When, Quinn?"
"In time, Rachel. I promise we will see each other again."
I close my eyes. Because I feel her head moving against my shoulders. And barely, I can see her shiny black hair that was being swayed by the soft breeze, nodding against me. I feel so selfish for asking her to wait for me.
But at the time, it was the only thing we could hold on to.
Wednesday, July 24, 2075
Rachel:
Colors streaked through the slightly rusted windows. The paint was peeling, cracks showing on the yellowing railings. I look at the digits beside the wooden bedside table. My blurry vision almost couldn't make out the numbers. Charlotte, my daughter, insisted on getting the one with a bigger display. And I silently utter my thanks because at the very least, I can clearly see the date, for one more day.
It was always for another day.
I sat up slowly, looking for my overused slippers. Once I felt the soft paddings beneath my feet, I couldn't help but let out a small smile. Charlotte had always been bringing me new ones whenever she visits, but I would just leave them unopened in the dresser. She never understood the affinity I had for old, overused things.
They remind me of Quinn.
A small pang bit through me, but I shake it away, Quinn would have wanted me to only be happy. Instead, I think of Charlotte again. She would often ask me how long does it take for something to be considered old. I would always chuckle, never giving any real answer. Even I don't know.
Was it the passing of sunsets? I have waited for thousands of sunsets. Can I now be considered old? Can old be seen through appearances? When people are grey with shaking hands, and wrinkling skin, are they considered old? How long does it take? Was it on how much wisdom and insight they've acquired? Am I still considered old even when I don't know the answer to these?
Shaking my head at my early morning musings, I go on about to prepare my cup of tea.
"What would I do today?" I wondered out aloud to no one in particular.
Silently, I know the kind of day I will be spending. The small table outside the balcony was always waiting with a laminated calendar etched with 'X' markings, its chair calling me out to keep them company. Soft waves would occasionally meet with the sandy shores. The water would close in. It will give me an opportunity to collect the washed out shells and feel them at the palm of my hands.
I know exactly what will happen. But every day, I find myself hoping aloud that something different will happen.
I find myself hoping that it will be the day that she promised to me.
I sat gingerly on the creaky chair, setting my hand on the table to support my frame. My tea billows out faint hollows of smoke. The ocean breeze kept me company as the water meets the shore. There was something that makes me envious that the sand gets its parched plains quenched every time the sea laps on its side. On bad days it feels borderline cruel that I would have to watch nature running up and about towards each other, teasing me gently of my longing.
Quinn:
I feel a breeze creep onto my bare skin. This time, I'm looking at a small room. It was neat, very tidy, unlike what my office at home where Rachel would always scowl at me. I smile at remembering her frowning and glaring at me.
The room's light is slightly being miffed by the curtains, but I can hear waves crashing. My feet and curiosity bring me to open the door, my body covered with the only robe I could find.
There is something familiar about the scent of the fabric.
Bright light greets me, I see a small woman, her side facing me. It's peculiar that I feel something familiar akin towards her. Her hair was greyed and mostly white as an evidence of time. She looks longingly as the waves crash to the shore, as though something about it is making her feel an inexplicable yearning. The etches on her face tell me that she's tired. Something stirs inside me because I know what tired feels.
The creaking of the door betrays my presence. She faces me. On that instant, I see the weariness from her eyes disappear as joy replaced it. Her brown eyes sparkled as she looked onto me, taking slow steps with her.
It's Rachel.
This is her. She's old! And I feel nothing short of wonder. My feet find their ground as I race to reach her. My fast pace overcomes her delicate steps and I take her into my arms.
"Rachel." I breathe out when I've had her fragile small frame securely wrapped on my stronger arms.
I feel her tears falling slowly as I close my eyes and sketch this moment in my mind.
I see the laminated calendar, more than half of it covered with 'X' marks. I see, today is the 24th of July, year 2075, Wednesday.
Rachel:
Today could be just like any other day. Maybe it wouldn't be. I hope again.
The door creaked, and I felt being watched. I turned my head, and my blurring vision connected with strong hazel ones. And I carry myself, will my failing legs to walk as fast as they can take me. Blonde hair was being billowed by the soft wind, as she raced towards me.
The ocean breeze was soft like it was comforting me, apologizing that I had to wait for so long.
Except, now with Quinn standing in front of me, her arms around me, it felt just like those long nights when I used to stay awake waiting for her. I can still remember, my eyes were clearer then, but I remember until now.
Her arms encircled me, pulled me deeper. My tears raced as elation gripped me. I hear her whisper my name. It was finally enough.
Because it is her voice delicately wrapping around my name that at last frees me from being time's captive.
A/N: So, I hope you guys enjoyed. Because really, it's time travelling. And Faberry. What? I had to do it, okay? :) Review if you can!