A/N - so I have this feeling that my writing muscles have atrophied and I can't write anymore. My recent attempts just crashing and burning (figuratively only, at least). Anyway, this has been swimming around in my head and it's a sequel to The Coldplay Anthology. Tell me what you think...
The Civil Wars - From This Valley Part 1
Oh the outcast dreams of acceptance
Just to find pure love's embrace
Like an orphan longs for its mother
May you hold me in your grace
Oh won't you take me from this valley
To that mountain high above
Oh I will pray, pray, pray till I see your smiling face
I will pray, pray, pray to the one that I love
New York, Manhattan, 6th Precinct, Special Victims Squad, 15.12 pm
"Hey, Fabray...you're wanted down at interrogation. They brought in the Father. He's in the box..." Quinn nods at Gutierrez as she takes a deep breath, cantering her thoughts and schooling her expression. She knows that she needs to appear unbiased even if she knows deep down that he's guilty and her best bet is to get a confession.
She can hear Rachel's voice in her head, soft whispers as the words caress her ear, telling her to breathe in and out and that she had this. Quinn never had any misgivings nor illusions about her job even if Rachel was always going to be a bit uncomfortable with it. It was never a life long dream like Rachel had but it was still a calling of sorts even if she only realized it at Yale.
Her mom had been so proud that she had been accepted into the graduate program of the Department of Psychology, expecting her to excel in clinical psychology and get a job in academia or one of the private hospitals. It had been her practicum training that finally gave her clarity and the impetus to switch from clinical psychology to social and personality psychology.
She had so many offers even then and took the exams in secret, never expecting to get in until she actually did. The spectacular fight with Rachel when she showed her the acceptance for the New York Police Academy almost derailing all their plans. But Rachel had surprised her, not leaving even if her bags had been packed and were by the door. She had actually sat down just because Quinn said please. She had listened to Quinn's words, her hands clasped in front of her, fingers worrying over her smooth knuckles, making Quinn reach out automatically.
Four hours of words and tears and a fragmenting heart And they had come to an impasse of sorts. When she was younger, it would have signified the end, a good run of years of being together and maybe it was time to move on. But Rachel was always going to be the one for her. She had made so many mistakes early on in High School, pushing the brunette away, overlaying her inadequacies with false bravado and cruelty.
Each and every experience moulding her and giving her the skills to be better, to finally do good in her own way. The work allowing her to make a difference in people's lives and to protect those who could not protect themselves. She had been lucky because Rachel never gave up on her, she had saved her, was still saving her. And Quinn felt compelled to help and Rachel had acquiesced.
So, even if it was something that would eventually pry them apart, Quinn's steadfast in her love and belief in Rachel and for her, that was always going to be enough. And a year on from that, Rachel had been in the front row as she got her third grade detective shield. Clapping her hands until they were red, tears in her eyes that signified pride but unfortunately also fear.
Quinn pushes all those thoughts to the back of her mind before she grabs the coffee cup and the file and makes her way down to the catacombs and hopefully her third conviction in the four months since she started.
"You ready?" Steve Chen was a veteran at the 6th. A decorated vet and police sergeant who also headed the LBGT coalition for the precinct. Quinn nods but does not return his smile before she enters the room first, her eyes on the suspect as she takes the seat farthest from the door, her hands clasps in front of her on the table and her cross glinting around her neck. She can see that Mr Bannon take note of it and keeps quiet as Steve goes through the formalities of his right to silence and Counsel before introducing both of them.
"Mr Bannon, would you like a cup of coffee before we begin?" Quinn keeps her voice low, soothing as she starts, her technique still raw but it seems to be working as the man nods slowly. Steve, taking the cue and hurrying out to grab two coffees as Quinn leans back in her chair, her shoulders relaxing as she sips from the cup she had brought.
She leans forward again only after Steve returns and hands the suspect a cup. Her words timed to when Mr Bannon takes a sip from his cup, knowing that the coffee is too hot and the man will burn his tongue and be distracted by that. "Mr Bannon, can you tell us what happened to Priscilla? You were the last one to see her before the attack. Anything you can tell us will help your children's babysitter..."
His mouth curls from the burn but his eyes narrow at her question, "I told that police officer before, I dropped her off a few blocks from her place and she turned down the alley and I drove off. I didn't see her after that." his tone not defensive but there's that underlying smugness that Quinn picks up on.
"She was attacked from behind on her way to church." Quinn flips through the file, more for show as she had memorized most of the details. "Did you see anyone suspicious when you dropped her off? Anything that looked unusual?" Again timing the question just as he sips his coffee.
He shakes his head instead of answering and Steve dives in to ask the next question, already getting into the rhythm Quinn had set, "You've known Priscilla since she was fourteen, right? She's been your babysitter for four years?"
"Yeah..So?" His fingers are pinching the top of the cup but his voice remains conversational. "We go to the same church." His eyes glance at Quinn, trying to highlight that he's like her and nods when she smiles, her hand going to the cross around her neck.
Quinn thinks she has forge a tentative connection which she can hopefully exploit, "Even christians make mistakes..." her voice still low, her eyes not on him but on the wall behind. "Did you make a mistake, Mr Bannon?" She sees his head bowed and thinks that they may have a shot, only when he looks at her, she sees cold grey eyes and a predatory look that sends chills up her spine.
"No...and I want my lawyer now...My wife is cooking my favorite dinner and I want to be home in time for it."
"We just have a few more que.."
"Detective Fabray, I think we're done here." She hates that Steve had used that tone, like she had stepped out of line, like she had blown the interrogation. She knows she's probably overtly sensitive about it and he was just doing his job in protecting the rookie but it still rankled. She does not look back as she hurries to the stairwell, only stopping when she hears her name.
"Fabray."
Steve hopes that she will learn to grow that armor around her that will allow her to put up with the horrors of the job and still see the good in what she was accomplishing. He knows she's smart, graduate degree from Yale and a wife that was an up and coming actress on Broadway. But he can also see that she's fraying around the edges, her smile too tight and each setback this early in her career just chipping away at her. "You did well in there."
"He asked for his lawyer in less than ten minutes.." The frustration seeping through as she tucks the errant strands of her hair behind her ear. "The victim can't id him but she said that she had smelled that cologne...that the words he said had been similar to words he had uttered to her when he had been drunk one time.."
"Cologne you can buy at any drug store and she can't id him or confirm his voice. Its less than circumstantial.." He's at least relieved that she's distancing herself from the victim and not using her name. "Talk to the crime techs again. Maybe they found something more in that alley." It's a long shot and most likely they were not going to get a conviction for the case. He sees her nod even though he can see that like him, she knows they have nothing.
She had only ever learnt patience for Rachel. Its a trait she knows she needs but one she can't master though she was going to try for her sanity as much as practice for Rachel. She does talk to the techs to no avail and spends the rest of the time typing up the report of the interrogation and downs her third cup of coffee before she sees Mr Bannon walking through the hallway, his lawyer in tow.
She thinks she's being discreet as she tails him and parks down the street when he exits his car and enters his house. So she's a bit surprised when he knocks on her window, half an hour later, approaching from the passenger side and catching her by surprise.
"Detective Fabray, isn't it? The Christian cop?" There's derision in his tone but Quinn just smiles and nods.
"Mr Bannon." Her tone, civil even as her hand fists at her side.
"Why are you wasting your time here when you could be out there catching that horrible person who hurt Priscilla? Broke her arm, gave her a concussion and nearly raped her...isn't that awful." Its the smile that unnerves her. Like he's chatting about the weather or college ball. No emotion on his face and teeth shining through the smarmy smile.
"I'm going to catch him." She's been sure of only a few things in her life, numbering on one hand, her choice of career; her mom's love for her, Puck, Santana and Britt's lifelong friendship, her love for bacon and most of all her love and faith in Rachel. But she was also absolutely sure of her statement because she knows he wants to be caught. His personality disorder driving his behavior and she was going to catch him.
He smiles again, "You're not going to find anything on me here." as he strolls over to her side and leans on her car, "You're wasting you're time but you're still a rookie, right? Wet behind the ears..thinking that I'm going to just give you the evidence..letting the real criminals go free while you harass me..You should run along..little girl..maybe let that Sergeant of yours,do the real work."
Her eyes glint with anger, flint reflecting in the hazel as she stares him down unblinking, one hand tight on the steering wheel and the other still in a fist by her side, but Bannon's grin only gets wider.
"You want to hit me, don't you?" His tone now cold and taunting as he glances at her fisted hand. "Go ahead...I won't tell if you don't."
And Quinn lashes out, her left hand hitting the side of the dash as her knuckles split and hurting like hell but she finally sees surprise and underlying unease on Bannon's face. She does not give him the satisfaction of seeing her in pain as starts the car, not even waiting for him to make way before driving off, already regretting her actions but praying that maybe she was a little bit closer to catching the asshole.
New York, Hell's Kitchen, West 39th Street, 21.48 pm
Quinn feels so tired, like the ache deep in her bones have added weight but she still trudges up the stairs, knowing that she will find comfort soon. The red door on the fifth floor, always a welcoming sight though the dark that greets her as she opens the door is not.
"Rachel" her voice still rough but hopeful as she really needed to see Rachel, though her hopes fade when she registers the quietness, the loft is not small but even in the dark, she can view the length and breath of its loneliness. She shrugs off her jacket, the Sig Sauer P228 in her shoulder holster, always hanging heavy by her side. She knows that Rachel does not like to see it, always trying and failing to hide her shudder each time Quinn unbuckles it and her smile only returning after the gun goes into the lock box.
Its always been the first thing Quinn does, despite how bad a day she's had, even that one time when she had come home with a fractured arm, bruises down her side and her left eye swollen shut. Only after that ritual, does her shoulders relax as her hand goes to the tie in her hair to pull it out and she wanders into the kitchen area, trying to figure out what she could make that would take her mind off her spectacularly shitty day. Even though she knows its been all of her own making, from ruining the interrogation to getting made at Bannon's place.
She raids the freezer for the ice pack that Rachel always has in there. Initially meant for the aches the brunette endured after dance rehearsals but now mostly used for Quinn and her litany of bruises that she seemed to attract from the physical training for the job. Quinn hisses as she washes the blood off her swollen knuckles and wraps a towel and the pack around her hand. She finally gives up her pipe dream of cooking and pulling open the drawer with the take out menus.
The note in there finally eliciting the first smile of the day from her as she takes it with her right hand, reverently holding it up, lavender paper, thick and patterned with stars.
'I'm missing you right now. Its like this ache that burns and sizzles and I hope you have a really good day at work because I may be late tonight and if you didn't have a good day, know that I love you and miss you and will hurry home. Love always, Rachel. P.S. There's a new vegan place that delivers on 42nd street."
Maybe they were still at the same impasse they were 2 years ago, barely moving forward and only bound by that once in a lifetime love. Maybe it wasn't good to be scared to come home each day, praying that the apartment would not be empty but it was just another ritual for her, like putting her gun away. An acceptance of how things were for them now and all she needed was patience as Rachel would always come back because Rachel was her home.
End Part 1
