"You don't have to die to go to hell."
― Tess Gerritsen, The Sinner
"Come in."
Rachel has no idea what to do. She realizes the second she hears those two words that Quinn has no idea it's her standing here and not her mom. She doesn't let anyone but her mom in to see her. She probably thinks it's either Judy or one of the nurses and doctors who take care of her. This was a really bad idea. Like…really bad.
Apart from that, going in and not talking would make for one really awkward situation and potentially make Quinn angry...angrier. Rachel has had her share of anger directed towards her since Quinn's accident. She's not actually looking for more.
Then again, she deserved the blonde's anger, didn't she? She's the reason for her paralysis. She's the reason she's in that stupid hospital bed, having to deal with anyone's worst nightmare just shortly after finally finding herself. It'd probably only be fair to give the former head cheerleader the chance to express the anger she must surely feel.
"Come in!"
The request is slightly louder and, as a consequence, also more strained than before. Quinn obviously has to put effort into speaking this loudly and Rachel wished she could just give her her own voice. It's not like she's using hers anyway.
She soundlessly presses down on the door handle and slowly opens the door, terrified of what is waiting for her on the other side. She is terrified of Quinn's reaction, of what she might say to her…or yell at her. But she's also terrified of what Quinn might look like. She's terrified of never being able to rid herself of the image of a broken Quinn Fabray.
As she opens the door wide enough to reveal herself to Quinn, she closes her eyes tightly, as if preparing herself for the impact.
"Rachel!" The blonde's voice is not, as expected, filled with anger or hate. It's filled with surprise and causes Rachel's eyes to open up instantly, her brown eyes locking onto hazel ones.
"You're here," Quinn states, as if she can't believe it, even thought the brunette is standing just a few feet away from her. Rachel stares at the ground, both embarrassed that it took her this long to visit and support someone she considered a friend and mortified that she, the one to blame for all of this, went in at all. "You erm, do you maybe wanna sit down?" The blonde motioned towards the chair right next to her bed and Rachel doesn't know how to respond to that at all. This isn't what she'd expected. This was not part of the list of scenarios she went through in her head. Why isn't there any yelling and screaming or anger or hate? Why does it seem like Quinn is actually happy to see her?
"Rachel?"
The brunette still doesn't know what to do, how to react. She still doesn't feel like she can actually verbally reply. The only thing she can think to do is sit down in the chair Quinn has offered to her. She approaches the chair slowly and intends to straighten out her skirt as she sits down, feeling like a fool when she realizes she's wearing jeans. She hasn't been feeling like herself in so many ways since the accident, since the day she was supposed to get married.
"Wow, Rachel Berry in jeans. I think I've only ever seen you wear jeans for performances, to be honest." Quinn's tone isn't malicious, but not quite friendly teasing either. It seems to be a simple observation. Then again, Rachel still hasn't gotten used to the scratchy voice coming from Quinn's obviously too dry lips. It sounds so unlike the former head cheerleader that it's hard to actually assess her tone.
The brunette looks away, embarrassed at the girl's inquisitive look. She felt like Quinn was trying to open her up and look into her, read her like one of the at least 15 books on the nightstand next to her.
"It's true then. My mom told me, but I wasn't sure it could be true until just now." Rachel looks at the blonde, confused but also desperate. Desperate for what exactly?
"Mom said you weren't talking and Santana said you'd left Glee club."
Rachel looked down again, watching her own hands fidgeting in her lap. There's nothing to say, nothing to do. There's just…nothing.
"You know, it might be for the best that you're not talking right now," Quinn tells her and it's like a punch in the face but, at the same time, it doesn't have the annoyed tone breaking through that she's so used to from the blonde. It just sounds so…matter of fact. "At least this way, you won't be telling me that things will be fine and that there's still so many things I can do and that I still have an amazing future ahead of me. At least you won't settle for lying just to make me feel better."
And now Rachel gets it. She gets why the blonde isn't annoyed. She isn't annoyed because, right now, she has company without the pity that comes with the other's company, without someone constantly attempting to make her feel better. Right now, Quinn doesn't have to feel alone, but she also doesn't have to deal with someone actually being there for her. Because, when it comes down to it, Rachel being there is not much different from her not being there, isn't it? But it still trumps being on her own all day.
"It's ironic because, of all people, I expected those speeches from you the most. I thought you'd be the one desperately trying to show me how great life can be even while in a wheelchair. I thought you'd be the one in her serenading me and making me express my own feelings through song. I thought you'd be the one constantly trying to cheer me up, scared I'd drive my wheelchair into a damn pool the second I was left unattended. And yet, here you are, not saying a word."
Rachel's eyes had connected with the blonde's throughout her speech, the guilt overwhelmingly heavy on her shoulders, on her legs, on her entire being. She felt like it was forcing her deeper into the uncomfortable hospital chair, desperately trying to merge the two. But her eyes never once leave Quinn's. They can't.
She opens her mouth, but no sound escapes. She closes it again, only to open it yet again.
"You know, you're gonna have to get over this pretty soon. You have your NYADA audition in a few weeks and you're gonna have to find a song and practice the hell out of it, Rachel Berry style." The former cheerleader's voice has changed. It has a lighter quality. Like her need to vent is satisfied and she could now actually talk to Rachel freely. Like someone has lifted a weight off of her shoulders…maybe they have put it on Rachel's shoulders instead. It would only be fair after all.
Rachel has no idea what Quinn is trying to achieve. In the end, the brunette is sure that they both know that she won't go to that audition, that she isn't going to NYADA next fall. Rachel knows it. She has accepted it. The blonde must know that, too.
"I could help you choose a song if you want me to," the blonde says and, to Rachel, she sounds almost desperate. She's probably just baiting Rachel, like they all are, desperate to get her to talk. Maybe it's easier to yell at someone, to hate someone openly, if they can talk back.
But, all it does is remind Rachel of the event that lead to this, all it does is make her look at the hospital bed, at Quinn's legs which she will never be able to use again, at the white walls which are currently the blonde's home.
She feels her face starting to heat up as her burning eyes announce the tears that were about to fill her eyes up. She holds her breath for a while, hoping to keep the tears at bay, forcing them back inside where they belong. Because, after all, her insides have been weeping since she found out about Quinn's accident. They haven't stopped, maybe they never will.
But, like most times, it's a battle she isn't meant to win and she feels tears well up in her eyes. And this might just be the one thing that was still left of her, the one thing that was still left of the old Rachel Berry: she is still openly emotional because she simply can't hold in her feelings. It isn't something she was ever taught by her parents. Her dads taught her to wear her heart on her sleeve, to always be true to herself, never ashamed, never fake. And that, at least, hasn't changed. She still can't hide her feelings.
That doesn't mean that she can't be alone with them, however. There is absolutely no reason for Quinn to be a part of what might just be the millionth breakdown she's had since the blonde's accident. There's no reason for Quinn to be subjected to this.
So instead, she takes a deep breath, begging her eyes to hold in the tears for just one more minute until she has safely left the room. She slowly gets up from the hospital chair and takes a tiny step closer to the blonde's bed, reaching out her hand for just a tiny second before withdrawing it again and turning around.
"The heart makes its choices without weighing the consequences. It doesn't look ahead to the lonely nights that follow."
― Tess Gerritsen, Keeping The Dead
The moment she turns around, she lets the tears fall freely, glad that the blonde can no longer see her and witness as she crumbles yet again. Just as Rachel is about the leave the room, the door opens and she finds herself standing face to face with Judy Fabray, the older woman's face portraying first shock and then outrage.
The brunette readies herself for what was sure to be a lecture on how Quinn needed to rest and Rachel being in her room would only help upset the blonde instead. She had really thought Quinn's mother would be happy she finally went in after everything. But the look on her face told a different story.
The brunette frowns in confusion, however, when the older blonde addresses her daughter instead of Rachel.
"Lucy Quinn Fabray, you don't let anyone in except for Rachel and, once she finally has the courage to come in here, you thank her by making her cry? Is this how you treat people who want to support you? The poor girl has been sitting in front of this room almost every single day since your accident and now she finally decides to come in here and instead of being grateful, you make her cry? That is not how I raised you, young lady!"
Rachel doesn't know how to react. She feels extremely uncomfortable and put on the spot, but she also feels bad for Quinn because, technically, the blonde didn't make her cry. This whole situation did.
"You've been here this whole time and never came in here? People made up lie after lie so I wouldn't think you didn't care, making me believe you'd show up the next day or the day after. I thought you didn't care about me, Rachel!"
The brunette lowers her eyes to the ground, ashamed of her actions, of her weakness, of feeling too guilty to enter this room before today. The pain in the blonde's voice is heartbreaking. All this time, Rachel had thought the former cheerleader must hate her, she thought she wouldn't want to see her anyway and, if she did want to see her, it'd only be in order to yell at her. She had to ready herself for that. She entered this room today ready to have the blonde scream at her.
She looks up and lets her tear-filled eyes connect with the blonde's hazel eyes for a few seconds before she lowers her head again, turns around and, this time, does leave the room.
"The most intimate feeling people can share is neither love nor hate, but pain."
― Tess Gerritsen, The Surgeon
Now, that was a quick update, huh? You must be SO proud of me xD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm pretty insecure about it because I'm not too fond of my writing style here, but I hope you liked it and continue to enjoy this ride with me.
And to those who asked about Quinn's POV. I can't promise I'll write it. It was supposed to be from Rachel's POV only, but I think of maybe doing an interlude from Quinn's POV. We'll just have to see about that, alright? ;)
