chapter one: out of focus, eye to eye
It wasn't a big house, but it felt too big, too empty. Inches spread out like miles, minutes like hours, as Rachel felt herself unwind in the gifted cabin. She made patterns for herself, teaching herself to chop firewood, meditating, trying to reach the end of her personality as she let the tension from Everlasting drain from her body.
But there was an emptiness in her. It spread from her chest to the gaps between her fingers, a hollow that echoed in the footsteps across the hardwood floor that only she heard.
Try as she might, Rachel couldn't banish Dr. Simon from her internal monologue. She could quiet him at times, but he'd come back full force analyzing her every thought.
It's hard for you to let people get close, he'd whisper as the emptiness ached with every breath, you can't have any intimate relationships.
No way, she had said, I have plenty of intimate relationships. I have Quinn.
Her hand closed around her phone. It was fully charged, but off. She turned it over in her palm, then set it back down and went to go take a bath, holding held underwater until the voices in her head shut up.
She crossed off days on the calendar. She read self help books, wrote cynical comments in the margins, then reread them and erased the comments.
She thought about Quinn.
Rachel burnt her hand on the whistling tea kettle, sharp and hot, bringing a flush of embarrassment and pain to her face. She hissed in pain, pushing away the memory of getting yelled at in the control room, a masochist mix of shame and pleasure at Quinn's undivided attention.
She tried not to listen to Dr. Simon's voice in her head, you just want to hurt yourself, Rachel, you self destruct to make other people hurt you.
She thought about the time they arranged a ball for the suitor and he hadn't put enough sex appeal into his dancing. Quinn had yell at him- no, that is not how you hold a woman, this is how you hold a woman- before pulling Rachel to her and staring into her eyes.
She saw Quinn in every corner of her cabin, thought about her begging Rachel to leave, to save herself- I love you, I love you.
She thought about the time one of girls slapped her. Rachel had thought Quinn was in the control room, but suddenly she was there, fist curled around the girl's hand, twisting it into an awkward position.
"Touch her again and I'll rip your fake nails out one by one," she'd hissed and made sure the girl was cut that night.
"I'm the only one who gets to knock some sense into you, Goldie," she'd said, hand brushing Rachel's shoulder later that night.
Have you ever thought about why Quinn acts so protective of you? Dr. Simon asked her subconscious, you said she can't have children, correct?
I LOVE you-
You mother also has a strong personality-
"Quinn and my mother are nothing alike," Rachel snapped, slamming her bowl down on the table. Her words bounced off the walls, reminding her of the vast empty that surrounded.
She found the radio she'd bought on a whim and turned it as loud as it would go.
For a week she watched the edge of her blanket grow more and more frayed. It's woven threads untied, twisting apart into a confused mess, full of questions and existential dread. What would she do about it? Would it even understand how to be a blanket again?
Rachel picked up her phone and carried it in her hand for several minutes before putting it down in the middle of the table.
It was still early, Quinn wouldn't be totally absorbed in planning a new season yet, she'd still be relaxing and maybe scheduling casual lunch meetings with potential suitors.
After a long moment of staring at her phone, she turned around. No, no this was a detox. No Everlasting, no sex, no lying, no drugs, no Quinn.
Are you ever really, truly honest with yourself about how you feel Rachel? The imaginary Dr. Simon asked, No one is going to understand you, Rachel, no one is going love you.
"I love you," Rachel had said, what felt like an eternity ago, "You know that, right?"
Quinn had looked away, expression unreadable, "I love you too, weirdo."
Thinking you have feelings for an older female figure of authority is perfectly normal, especially when your relationship with your own mother is damaging. I'll bet whatever Quinn feels for you is rooted in maternity and Freud even wrote-
"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up," Rachel snapped, snatching up her phone from the table. Her hands worked from muscle memory, turning it on and picking the number from speed dial. Before she even realized what she was doing, the phone was ringing, pressed up to her ear.
…
It had been two months since the season had ended. Two months since she'd shown up on Chet's doorstep. Two months since she'd last seen or heard from Rachel.
She was alone and Rachel was free, that's how it was supposed to be, right?
So when the her cell phone rang, she watched the screen, eyes locked to the caller ID as she counted out the rings. One, two, three; it was an act of penance, the infliction of punishment, and the old habit of never picking up on the first ring.
"What?" Quinn snapped as she picked up, but was met with silence.
She waited a beat before saying, "Rachel?"
The continued silence wasn't any more than she was used to at home, but it felt so much emptier. She could feel her own heart beating, hear her own breathing so loud.
"Rachel, you're scaring the shit out of me. Say something," she said.
"Quinn," Rachel choked out on the other end of the line, "Have you, uh, cast the new suitor yet?"
This was the closest thing to small talk either one had attempted in years and it made Quinn's skin itch. The connection was bad, both the audio quality and the words spoken.
"That's not why you're calling," she said. It was a statement, not a question.
"Can't I just want to talk about Everlasting?" Rachel asked.
There was another beat of silence, then Quinn said, "Why are you calling Goldberg?"
"I just wanted to talk," Rachel's voice had dropped in volume and Quinn closed her eyes, focusing on picking up Rachel's almost inaudible words, "I missed you."
Quinn didn't like feeling human. Mortality was a dirty mess of emotions and other shit, and after spending years watching what a fool it made of people, she knew it was only painful trouble. Emotions made for great tv, but not for great executive producers.
But Rachel had somehow slipped past her defenses and tugged on heart strings Quinn thought she'd cut years ago. Messy, disastrous, oh-so human Rachel, made her feel like a person in a way that no one else did. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once.
"Where are you?" Quinn asked.
"At the cabin."
"I'll be there in an hour," the words were out of her mouth before she could think, a gut reaction to Rachel's helpless tone. She hung up quickly, not giving Rachel any opportunity to refuse, and walked out the door.
…
Forty five minutes later, the sun was setting, casting long shadows and warm beams of golden light across the floor.
When she answered the knock at her door Rachel was met by Quinn, arms crossed, still in her typical armor of a tight dress and skyscraper heels. Rachel was her foil, clad in sweatpants and stocking feet.
She stepped aside, letting Quinn enter, and watched as she immediately walked over to the table and dropped two folders there.
"I'm going between two potential suitors," she said without preamble and Rachel felt the tension between her shoulders relax.
As Rachel joined her at the table to look over the headshots and psych evaluations of the possible suitors, Quinn made quick work of the bottle of wine and two glasses Rachel had left on the table.
"Thoughts?" Quinn asked, handing Rachel a glass.
"Vanessa," Rachel pushed the headshot across the table, "Definitely Vanessa."
"Because it went so well with Serena?" said Quinn rolling her eyes as she took a sip of wine, "Uhg, this is awful."
"Look at what it says under sexuality and sexual preferences," Rachel replied.
"It says she just got out of a long term relationship, so what?"
"Yes, but it also says she's bisexual," Rachel leaned over Quinn's shoulder to point at the word on the page, "Can you imagine? Everlasting's first LGBT contestant! We- I mean you- could have both guys and girls competing for her; it would be twice the drama."
"That is an interesting idea," Quinn nodded, smiling at Rachel, "You still got it, Goldberg."
"It's only been two months,"
"And how have you been doing?" Quinn asked, reaching Rachel's face for the answer. Rachel forced herself to maintain eye contact, she was fine, she was proving to Quinn that she was fine and healing herself. Because if you told a lie enough times it came true, right?
"I'm great, Quinn," she smiled, "Really."
Quinn's eyes narrowed a fraction before she took another sip of the cheap wine, "If you say so."
Quinn's phone rang, popping the bubble of tension that had been building between them. Rachel took another sip of wine, catching Chet's name on screen as Quinn declined the call.
"Work stuff?" Rachel asked.
"No, just… bullshit," Quinn slipped her phone into the bag, approached the couch Rachel had moved to sit on.
She looked down at Rachel and the couch with a touch of disdain creasing her forehead, "Your couch looks flea infested."
"It's not, I swear," Rachel punctuated this by scratching the back of her neck and Quinn laughed, sitting down next to her.
The silence that followed was comfortable, and the familiar feeling of Quinn's weight on the couch next to her was calming. The alcohol helped with that as well.
Quinn had taken off her heels and her blazer, reclining on the couch with her head back and her eyes closed. Rachel watched her as she sipped her own glass of wine. She watched as Quinn's chest rose and fell as she breathed, the way the red wine had stained her lips a bloody color, different than her normal shade of lipstick.
"What is it?" Quinn asked, her tone annoyed but not unkind, "I can feel you thinking."
"It's nothing," said Rachel.
"It's not nothing. You called me for a reason so here I am, now spill," Quinn set her empty glass on the floor then turned towards Rachel, crossing her arms and tucking one leg beneath herself.
Between the glass of wine and Quinn's intense gaze, Rachel lost her resolve.
"Am I- are we- do you think of me as a daughter?" Rachel said in one fast, volley of words. She felt her face flush, heat spreading from her cheeks, down her neck.
"What? Where the fuck did that come from?"
"It's just, Dr. Simon suggested that you may feel… maternal about me," Rachel replied, looking away.
"Dr. Simon? The man who put a secret video camera in your truck and stalked you?" Quinn said, "You actually listened to anything that creepy said?"
Rachel shrugged weakly, "It's just, not everything he said was bad, you know? That stuff about my mother? I feel so much better after cutting her out of my life. I just don't know how much of what he said is wrong and how much…"
"And how much is true?" Quinn finished. She sighed, "Rach, I don't think of you as my kid. Not at all."
Rachel chewed her lip, trying to believe Quinn and ignore the echoes of Dr. Simons past words in her head.
"He said maybe not consciously but-" Rachel began. But then Quinn did the unexpected. She rose up on her knees, leaning over to brace herself with one hand on the arm on the couch and one hand cupping Rachel's chin. With a single, fluid movement, Quinn kissed Rachel.
Rachel melted into the kiss, parting her lips to let Quinn deepen the kiss. It was slow and affectionate, not at all how Rachel had imagined kissing Quinn would be. Quinn tasted like the wine they'd been drinking and Rachel felt like she was getting drunk off her lips.
Just as Rachel's lungs began to burn, Quinn pulled away, breaking their kiss but lingering still, their foreheads all but touching.
"Not maternal," she said, breathless, "Okay?"
"Okay," Rachel whispered, feeling her eyes begin to go crossed as she stared up at Quinn.
CRASH! Both women jumped, Quinn jerking back, as a loud clatter could be heard from outside.
"What are that?" said Rachel as she turned to look out the window. But squinting out into the dark woods, she couldn't see anything and slumped back on the couch.
"I guess it must have been an animal," she said as Quinn stood to get herself more wine.
Rachel's gaze lingered on Quinn's figure as her kiss-addled mind tried to sort out what just happened. Quinn had kissed her. Quinn had kissed her with a soft passion that you couldn't produce out of someone, no matter how many lies they were told.
Then the cabin filled with light, followed by a rumble of thunder. Quinn and Rachel glanced at each other, then out the window as the skies opened up and a heavy rain poured out.
Quinn brought the wine back to the couch, refilling Rachel's glass, "I guess this means you're stuck with me for the night, Goldie, because there's no way my car's making it back down those roads in this rain."
Rachel moved closer, breaking the don't-touch-Quinn rule to lean against her shoulder. It was a soft, domestic moment that she let herself soak in as the rain soaked the dirt around her house.
…
Quinn scrubbed her face clean of make up, removing the last remnants of her armor in Rachel's tiny but clean bathroom. She had picked an oversized tee shirt from Rachel's drawers to wear to bed and it hung off one shoulder, barely grazing the tops of her thighs.
She hadn't planned to kiss Rachel, she just wanted to shut her up about that idiot shrink who had obviously fucked with her mind. Now, in the bright lights of the bathroom, she told herself not to think about it.
Not to think about the little noise Rachel had made when their lips touched, or the way she tasted, sweet and sour just like her demeanor. She told herself not to think about the way Rachel looked at her afterwards- which was how she looked at her most of the time anyway.
Quinn reminded herself that it meant nothing, it couldn't mean anything, not with Rachel leaving her for this place in the middle of nowhere.
Rinsing out the washcloth, she hung it in the shower and unlocked the door. Stepping out, she saw Rachel, clad in pajama bottoms and a thin tank top, looking over the file about Vanessa again, while Quinn's phone vibrated on the table.
"He sent, like, fifty texts while you were in the bathroom," Rachel said and Quinn looked at her phone.
Chet.
Of course.
"I'm surprised you can even get service up here," added Rachel, "Usually I have a hard time getting service. Seems to work for you though."
Quinn didn't take the bait. Talking about Chet was the last thing she wanted to do, especially right before she joined Rachel in bed.
Without her heels, Quinn stood several inches shorter than Rachel. As Rachel flipped through the pages of notes on Vanessa, Quinn took the change in angle as an opportunity to study her. Her eyes traced the slope of her throat to the freckle just below Rachel's collarbone. Thinking about the smooth curve of her skin made Quinn dizzy; she wondered if it was from the wine.
Rachel had seemed grow calmer the longer Quinn stayed, settling into a domestic air as she moved to set their wine glasses in the sink and recork what was left of the bottle of wine.
"I think I'm going to head to bed," Rachel said, "if that's okay with you?"
"It's your house," Quinn shot back, "Do whatever you want."
All the same, she joined Rachel in the bedroom, Rachel taking the right side since Quinn preferred the left. It wasn't the first time they'd shared a bed, and Quinn doubted it would be the last.
In bed, they lay side by side, listening to the rain pour outside. Rolling over, Quinn watched the storm that was behind Rachel's dark eyes. Rachel reached across, fingertips brushing Quinn's cheek as she brushed away a piece of hair from her face. Rachel's touch felt like lightning, sparking through her skin, but Quinn was tired of being burned.
Rolling away, Quinn pulled the blanket up to her chin and tried to sleep.
...
Rachel's bedroom was perfectly placed to fill with sunlight every morning. It stretched across the walls and across the quilt that covered her bed, and her and Quinn.
Much to Rachel's surprise and delight, she'd woken up to find Quinn's head tucked against her shoulder and even as Rachel tried to untangle herself, Quinn's arm tightened around her waist. So she settled for running her fingers through the older woman's hair, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the night before.
Quinn had kissed her. Quinn had kissed her and suddenly her head felt clearer than it had ever been. It was like being pulled under ice cold water. Everything was Quinn.
But had anything changed? Rachel was still Rachel and Quinn was still Quinn. For a brief moment Rachel thought there was something finally blooming between them when Quinn had cut it off short.
Quinn yawned, stretching her arm out before settling against Rachel again. Rachel stilled, her hand still resting on Quinn's head, and pretended that she was asleep.
Moving gently, so as not to wake her, Quinn untangled herself from Rachel. Rachel could feel her linger for a moment above her, before she felt the weight shift on the bed and heard Quinn quietly leave the room. Minutes later, Rachel got up, grabbing a sweater as she walked out to the living room. But she was just in time to hear Quinn's car start up and drive away, leaving only a note on the fridge.