Never before had she been intimidated by a piece of furniture. But looking at the king sized bed sitting in the middle of the room left her rooted in place as she leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, unable to cross the threshold into the bedroom. The comforter was halfway to the floor, the sheets were rumpled, and she could smell the sex and despair from here. Miscellaneous clothes lay haphazardly among them next to the rectangular impression left on the bed by that awful, too often employed carry-on suitcase of Quinn's. A faded gray McKinley High Athletics t-shirt, worn away to practically nothing and an excellent candidate for the rag bin, was carelessly tossed on the ground, crumpled and forgotten. No, the metaphor was not lost on her. Metaphors were, after all, very important.
In a moment of tremendous bravery, Rachel stepped into the room and let out a shaky breath. Part of her wanted to fling herself to the mattress and sob, but she was all cried out and too exhausted to do anything but sleep. The kids were in bed; she should be, too.
The kids. God, that was the worst of this mess. They didn't deserve this. Nor did they understand how their parents who had once been so in love and had the best and strangest stories of their courtship—as she liked to call it—full of romance and laughter, could have fallen apart so brutally. Rachel had no real explanation. They grew apart. Become strangers. Forgotten what it really meant to be in love, to be together. Even last night was proof of that.
Rachel sighed as she sat on her side of the bed, listening to Quinn pull down the suitcase from the top of their closet. She couldn't believe this was happening. They'd been together since they were teenagers; they made it through their final year of high school in a close-minded conservative town. They'd survived the tumultuous years of college spent in different states. They'd powered through living in a tiny apartment in Washington Heights while Quinn attended med school and Rachel was auditioning and performing all over the city. Exhausted, nearly broke, and eating cheap, unhealthy, and non-vegan food because they couldn't afford anything else, they'd persevered and reached their dreams. Together. Even in the worst times they were there for each other, which made the best times even better. She won her first major Broadway role, and after they'd gotten married, Quinn landed a great residency and research position.. Things worked out. They were good together. Friends were known to comment on how disgustingly cute they were. And while they'd had some spectacular fights over the years, they saw them through. So why couldn't they get through this? Why weren't they trying harder?
The bed dipped as Quinn sat next to her. Timidly, she reached for Rachel's hand and long, slender fingers intertwined with hers, still fitting perfectly. This was so unfair.
"I hate this," Rachel whispered, afraid to break the stillness of their room. It didn't feel real. She didn't feel real. Just numb.
"I know. But it was a long time coming."
Since before Ava. Rachel bit the inside of her cheek. Having another child to save their marriage was a stupid solution, but she in no way regretted it. She was the one to carry this time around, wanting Quinn to see it as her way of pausing her thriving career in the hope that her wife would take a break from work as well. The plan backfired. Since she didn't have the physical burden of a bowling ball in her uterus to hinder further research, Quinn got more and more involved in her case studies and test tubes. The pregnancy and Ava's subsequent birth granted a small reprieve from only the constant traveling. Dr. Fabray still worked long hours, but she came home each night instead of prior occasions of sleeping at the lab. Yet, deep down, Rachel knew it wouldn't last. Admittedly, even in the very beginning of their relationship a piece of her always expected Quinn to leave.
"What are we going to tell the kids?"
The blonde sighed and squeezed her hand. "I'll talk to them tomorrow. Try and explain."
Explain. There was no explaining. They didn't plan this, and they certainly didn't ask for it. She'd been so happy when Quinn Fabray, M.D. published the innovative findings in her field, and overjoyed that she was finally getting the recognition she deserved. Rachel knew she couldn't stop her wife from leaving on those on-site treatment missions and conference trips, couldn't hold her back no matter how much she wanted to. She spent the better part of the last few years alone as her esteemed spouse toured the world, famous for her medical discoveries and accomplishments. Quinn didn't fly out as often during the pregnancy, and Rachel believed that she'd stay for good once Ava came. How wrong she was. Their baby girl was barely six months before a London symposium lured the doctor away once more.
A chill washed over her hand as Quinn let go and stood, heading back to her dresser. She shoved clothes—mostly skirts, some jeans, and t-shirts—into a large duffle bag that sat on the floor. Rachel watched, brown eyes refilling with tears. She was so sick of crying. The blonde zipped the bag and placed it next to the not yet packed carry-on. She offered the brunette a weary, half-hearted smile before grabbing her pillow off the bed and moving toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
Brow arched and clearly confused, Quinn said, "The couch...?"
She shook her head. "No you aren't." Her voice was small but determined. She wasn't ready to let go, yet. She'd never be ready.
Eyeing her warily, Quinn slowly approached Rachel, dropping the pillow to its rightful home. She stood between Rachel's now open legs and brushed a few dark strands of hair out of her face. The brunette had been blessed with good genes and didn't look a day over thirty even though she was more than ten years past it. Quinn, on the other hand was only half as lucky. Rachel smiled inwardly. The only thing that showed Quinn's age was the modicum of platinum silver, almost white hair that streaked back from her temples and wove through the rest of her summery blonde locks. She tried dyeing it when they first started popping up, but Rachel nipped that in the bud. She loved the shimmering hair, and she loved the fine lines at the corners of those hazel eyes even though she knew they came from the stress of traveling and not from the laughter they used to share. Still, it all made Quinn look even more beautiful. And Lord knew the woman was stunning.
"What are you smiling at?"
Apparently her appreciation couldn't be contained. "You. You're still so gorgeous." She knew this was the last time she'd be able to tell her and a small piece of her died inside.
Quinn's pale cheeks turned pink and a small smile sneaked out with Rachel's tears. So, she could still make her blush. She hadn't seen that in a long, long time. Rachel leaned her head forward, resting it against a toned, t-shirt covered stomach. She nuzzled into the ancient cotton, breathing in the divine scent of her wife. When she pulled away, a weird Shroud of Turin-like image peered back at her. Her tears and sniffly nose left damp impressions on the thin fabric. Unable to look at it, she tugged up the shirt's hem and drifted her lips over impossibly soft skin.
"Rach…?" Quinn began.
Never had she imaged that there would be a "last time" for them, but she recognized the moment for what it was. Rachel pushed Quinn's top up further until the blonde got the hint and took it off. Questioning hazel eyes locked on her own brown gaze.
"Give me tonight. Just let me have tonight," she pleaded.
The taller woman bit her lip as though weighing the pros and cons of the situation. Soon, she nodded and leaned down to join their mouths in a bittersweet kiss. Tears wet their cheeks as she followed Rachel to the middle of the bed, never losing contact. Then their kisses turned frantic and despairing.
Within moments both women were topless and the diva was sliding flannel pajama pants down and off alabaster legs. Everything was skin and heat, and she didn't know if the salt she tasted was from their tears or the glistening sheen of sweat coating their bodies.
One final time, they met without pretense. Naked in every way, they made love in near silence. Only gasping moans and hiccoughing cries cut through the quiet. And when the nimble fingers inside of her hit home, Rachel went rigid and came undone with choked whispers.
The slender frame above her shook not with pleasure, but with a pain so unspeakable that all she could do was hold on as tears drenched her neck. Eventually, Quinn calmed and rolled off of Rachel. The brunette merely followed to move on top, nipping and kissing every inch of skin she could reach as she loved her wife's body one last time.
Not too much later, Quinn came on a whimper and with a fist tangled in dark hair, the other gripping Rachel's hand as if their lives—their very survival—depended on that contact, that physical connection. When Rachel crawled up to meet the hazel eyes she so adored, she saw only closed lids as Quinn released her hand, slipping away. And Rachel died a little more.
"Mama?"
The small voice sliced through Rachel's reverie and she turned to see Ava clutching tightly to her stuffed Sneetch. Quinn's affinity for Dr. Seuss was charming, and when she gave such an oddly shaped yellow creature to Rachel during their first Hanukkah in New York, she'd fallen even more in love. And since Quinn had taken to calling her "Star Belly" during the nine months she'd carried Ava, they thought it only fitting that their little girl have a Sneetch of her own.
Shaking off the sentimental memory, one of very few in the last couple of years, Rachel cleared her throat and put on a completely believable happy face. She didn't win that Tony for just her voice. Swooping down, she lifted the child and balanced her on her hip. "You're supposed to be sleeping, Little Miss."
Ava just buried her face against Rachel's shoulder in response. The actress bit her lip, debating her next words. She knew Quinn would disapprove, saying that Ava should be able to stay in her own bed and not climb into theirs anymore.
With a sigh, she internally berated herself for never voicing her disagreement and saying that once in a while was normal, the boys had done the same thing at that age. Instead she was always carrying Ava up the small staircase and back to her own bedroom in order to appease Quinn. But Quinn wasn't here. And wouldn't be again.
Resolved, Rachel kissed the soft brown mane tucked under her chin. "Do you want to sleep in Mama's bed tonight?"
Ava nodded and Rachel carried her to the chaise lounge in the corner of the room. She kissed her again then began stripping the sheets from the mattress. There was no way she was letting her baby sleep on dirty sheets, tainted in every way imaginable. Briefly, she considered burning the whole bed-set as she dropped them in the hamper.
Clean, crisp ivory linen now covered the bed, and Rachel picked up her already sleeping daughter. Tucking the tiny child in, she changed into pajamas and crawled in bed, cradling her baby. Ava twisted around in her sleep and instinctively found the ends of Rachel's long hair, twirling it in her little fingers as she had so many times before. It was familiar and comforting for them both, but it didn't wall against Rachel's tears. She brushed Ava's curls out of the little girl's face and spotted the gold of her wedding band glinting in the city lights outside the window. She did her best not to wake her daughter as the sobs overtook her.
The weight on her chest when she woke was considerably less than the painful heaviness of grief at the death of her marriage, but still cumbersome. Ava was sprawled out and her tiny, footie-pajama feet were currently resting on Rachel's sternum. It was unpleasant to say the least, and she was mildly surprised to learn what sharp little heels her daughter had. She carefully sat up and surveyed the room, raising an eyebrow at what she saw. Daniel cut diagonally across the king sized mattress, his head next to Ava's as his semi-curled body seemed to unconsciously avoid disturbing Rachel. A snore erupted from the corner and her other eyebrow shot up to meet its mate as she spotted Joshua's lanky form stretched across the chaise, his blanket puddled on the floor from rolling onto his stomach while sleeping. Quinn was going to be so pissed when she found out.
Except…
Quinn wasn't going to find out. She would never know that their sons had crept in during the night to feel some kind of familial closeness as their parents' marriage dissevered in half. She wouldn't know that Ava and Daniel had shared the pillow she'd left behind or have firsthand proof that Joshua was indeed far too long to sleep on the claw-footed lounge in the corner. No, she'd never know any of this. Because she was gone. Because she walked away.
Anger brewing inside her, Rachel managed to climb out of bed without waking her children. Not that it was a difficult feat. They all slept like Quinn, anyway: practically comatose. Especially Joshua, that boy was worse than the Snorlax Pokémon and Rip Van Winkle combined.
The brunette grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from the bottom drawer of the dresser and moved into the bathroom. She threw on the old hoodie and spotted her reflection. Columbia. This was Quinn's. It smelled like her, too. Rapidly blinking her eyes, Rachel refused to cry over a stupid article of clothing just because it belonged to the woman who left her.
She frowned and took it off then went to grab another one—one of hers. Sparing one last glance at the children, she forced herself downstairs to make breakfast. Pancakes wouldn't solve their problems, but they'd fill empty bellies and maybe even make the morning bearable when she explained that the four of them were getting out of the house and leaving the city for a little while.
Besides, it wasn't as though this was the first morning they'd spent without Quinn. As cold and terrible as it was, they were used to it.
